"A Year in Ink, Vol. 4" Wins Best Anthology/Collection at San Diego Book Awards

It's an excellent feeling to be part of an award-winning anthology. That's about all I have to say about that. Winners listed here.

"A Year In Ink, Vol. 4" Nominated for San Diego Book Award

Last year, the good folks at San Diego Writers, Ink. published its annual anthology, A Year in Ink, Vol. 4. I had submitted a piece and was delighted that it was accepted.

I just found out that a couple weeks ago, the San Diego Book Awards Association nominated Year in Ink for a 2012 award: Published Anthology/Short Story Collection.

If I seem ridiculously pleased, it's because one of my short stories is in an award-nominated anthology - and the award is being given by a serious literary association.

You can bet me a buck that's going in my new submission cover letters. Hopefully I'll have to change that to "award-winning."

I Feel a Little Stupid

There are moments when one’s brain simply betrays you. I had one of those about a week ago, when I realized I had something I desperately wanted to say. The problem was I had no platform from which to say it. You may blink.

It took almost an hour before I remembered I had a blog, a platform of my own. This told me a few things.

1. I have spent way too long away from the Washroom – so long that I’d forgotten it existed. That’s bad.

2. I’m thinking about blogging my thoughts again. That’s good.

3. I should be smacked. That’s right.

I’ll be back in a day or two with some thoughts, and a few ideas, and maybe a plan.

Apparently I have a few things to say.

A Letter to District Attorney Bonnie Dumanis: You Thanked the Wrong Folks

On December 20, 2010, San Diego County District Attorney Bonnie Dumanis sent members of the SDPD and her own office (along with some Union-Tribune reporters who were somehow invited along) to the homes of numerous officials of the Sweetwater Union High School District and the Southwestern College District.

They brought search warrants. They were finally looking into the corruption scandals at the two schools – many of which I have written about on this blog.

Three of those individuals were former Vice President of Business and Affairs Nicholas C.A. Alioto, who can be found on about eight-seven posts here; John Wilson, the former facilities director at SWC; and Henry Amigable, the former Seville Construction Services manager who oversaw construction contracts at SWC.

On January 4, 2011, Ms. Dumanis threw a press conference by standing with a veritable Justice League of District Attorneys and made it clear that folks were going down. This first round of indictments including numerous folks from Sweetwater and Seville’s Henry Amigable.

I can find no one who doesn’t believe that we’ll see a round including Alioto, Wilson, and probably a few others.

Just before she signed off, DA Dumanis made a big deal about thanking some of the press for the hard work they did in uncovering the corruption.

Who did she thank?

The Union-Tribune.

This is a copy of the letter I sent to Ms. Dumanis, the U-T, the San Diego Reader, the Southwestern College Sun, and the “Save Our SWC” blog.

January 8, 2012

Ms. Dumanis:

It was with delight that I watched you stand tall with four other members of your department and announce a series of indictments against members of the Sweetwater Union High School District. Knowing that I would soon see the five of you stand together and announce indictments against members of the Southwestern College District community made me even happier.

Imagine my surprise when you went out of your way to thank the Union-Tribune for all their help in reporting these events, and specifically mentioned the Watchdog section for its work.

Not to ameliorate the credit given to the Watchdog section – particularly the wonderful Tanya Sierra, whom I believe now works in your office as Public Affairs Officer – but to thank the Union-Tribune for their hard work while ignoring those who actually went out of their way to originally write about the mess that was both SWC and SUHSD is short-sighted and questionably honest at best.

 Months before the Union-Tribune even got involved, the San Diego Reader’s brilliant Susan Luzzaro wrote about pay-for-play corruption at both school districts – and was sourced by everyone who wrote about it later.

SWC’s own award-winning Southwestern College Sun got into the act, questioning the timing and bids of Nicholas Alioto’s Napa Valley trip – also long before the U-T got involved. After Sun articles which question Alioto’s actions were printed, the former Vice President of Business and Financial Affairs attempted to shut down the newspaper by forcibly ceasing printing, stripping the faculty advisor of the reassign time he received for his work (though he continued to work without receiving it), and threatening the arrest of numerous student journalists. Following this, the Sun editorial board opted to seek funding from outside the school and continue printing without Alioto’s permission. It was this action against a hostile administration that earned them the 2011 College Press Freedom Award, given out by the Associated Collegiate Press and the Student Press Law Center.

There were also three blogs active in the South Bay which continually disseminated information and opinion to the residents of the district. The first, “Save Our SWC,” uncovered and reported numerous problems with the school administration and did so in a tight, professional manner.

Two of my own blogs, “The Writer’s Washroom” and “SWC Board Must Go!” took a less-neutral stance. I used my own sites to try and affect change, and did so by focusing frequently on the dishonest actions – including pay-for-play ones – of Nick Alioto.

I am willing to have my websites be ignored, but I am less willing to let Susan Luzzaro and the Reader, the editorial board and staff of the Southwestern College Sun, and the anonymous blogger behind “Save Our SWC” go unnoticed.

These people deserve most of the credit you believe the Union-Tribune earned. Every voter in the district with any knowledge of this is aware of these facts.

Allow me to point out that the U-T’s editorial board not only ignored the issues at Southwestern College, but instead of hearing the complaints of students and faculty, they chose to interview Dr. Raj K. Chopra, the superintendent/president at the time, and write about what a fine job he was doing. Of course, all this was going on while Henry Amigable was involved in nearly-constant pay-for-play actions on the campus.

In fact, when a group of faculty, students, campus employees, and citizens (of which I was a proud member) chose to unify and organize in order to vote out the members of the board – some of whom are already mentioned in your documents – who continued to support John Wilson, Henry Amigable, Nick Alioto, and Raj Chopra, the U-T strongly endorsed those same incumbents. When the election was over, and the voters had sent Yolanda Salcido and Jorge Dominguez packing, the U-T’s editorial board wrote a lengthy screed about what a terrible thing the voters of the district had done.

These are hardly good reasons to thank the Union-Tribune for helping uncover these terrible things that happened on these campuses. Ms. Sierra, on the other hand, should still be commended for her stories, but I must again point out that what she wrote, she wrote after many others had already blazed the trail.

Lastly, though you did mention the “public,” as tipping your office about this, I must strongly state that the “public” is the reason investigations were done – at least on the campus of SWC. Were it not for the students of SWC who held rallies and demonstrations to attract attention and the faculty and classified employees that risked their jobs to get involved, the blogs, the Sun, and the Reader would never have researched and written about these criminal actions. Without that, conscientious politicians like Congressman Bob Filner wouldn’t have taken a stance against the corrupt administration. And without all the noise that this created, the Union-Tribune would never have gotten involved.

Please remember that the next time you thank someone for all the hard work that they’ve done.

Respectfully,

Nickolas Furr

(Copies of this letter have been sent to the San Diego Reader, San Diego Union-Tribune, Southwestern College Sun, and the “Save Our SWC” blog.)

Good News and a Stern Warning (Heart Sick, Pt. 4)

First allow me to apologize for taking longer than I had planned to write this. I genuinely didn’t mean for so much time to pass before continuing. All I can say is that it’s right near the end of the school year and I’ve been quite busy. And now…

To recap… the doctor who had first diagnosed me wasn’t even my own primary care physician. But I had called their office – unable to do anything but breathe very shallowly – and another doctor in the office saw me that day. It would be tough to complain about that level of quality service, and I won’t. The doctor realized there was something amiss with my heart, not my lungs, and took an x-ray of it.

Let me be clear. I saw it. It was huge. When I was referred to the cardiologist, he ordered an ultrasound. The ultrasound confirmed that I had an oversized heart and that there were going to be complications and problems.

I have an arrhythmia. In my case, it takes the form of an atrial flutter. This means that it might, for no good reason whatsoever, simply start racing. The risk of sudden death, of going into congestive heart failure is minimal. It can happen, but it would have to get up to about 300 beats per minute and stay there.

There is also an increased risk of stroke, which is why they’re pumping me full of Coumadin and trying to thin my blood out.

On its own, an atrial flutter can be managed by medication, which is the goal.

While the doctors were learning what was wrong with me, I encountered a situation and had to visit the emergency room (story told here). The ER doctor who took care of me (I think I’m going to have to call him Dr. Doug Ross because… well, he was handsome) made sure I stayed there until my heart slowed and the beat got stronger. Before I was discharged, my heart had slowed to 94 beats per minute – the lowest it had been since this whole blasted thing began. He said the rhythm was strong and the beat was steady, and it was safe for me to return home. And he also gave me some really shocking news.

I’ll get to that in a moment.

A few days later, after I’d spent time at home doing nothing but thinking, I went to the cardiologist’s office for a previously scheduled appointment. The first thing he did was order an EKG. I sat through it and waited until the results were in.

It beat at 75 beats per minute – strong, steady, and constant. He smiled at me and said with some real deserved pride, “We are now chemically maintaining your heart.”

It’s better than it sounds. It means that the various pills I’m taking had taken hold and started working. As of right then, we are able to count on having my heart working like it is supposed to. I’ll have to keep taking the various medications for some time, though he and my primary care physician both said I may not have to be on them for eternity.

There is always the chance that the atrial flutter will kick in again and my heart will start racing, but the experts say the chance of that is much less now, and will be even less in the future. Apparently a heart in rhythm wishes to stay in rhythm.

The one thing I haven’t mentioned is the first thing that I was told – about my enlarged heart. There’s a reason for that. In the emergency room, Dr. Doug Ross told us that my heart, actually, was not enlarged.

My jaw dropped, and my girl and I immediately started questioning him. He insisted that he could tell the heart wasn’t enlarged. In fact, he had the hospital’s tech take two separate x-rays of my chest, to make sure. I asked him about the first x-ray taken and described what I saw. He made a point of telling us that if a chest x-ray was taken at an angle, it could ‘shadow’ and make the heart and heart cavity look much larger.

Between leaving the ER and seeing the cardiologist, we wondered if a terrible mistake hadn’t been made. Was that first one nothing but a shadow? Why did I have a hard time breathing the first time? Was it a racing heart that sent me to the ER or just a mad, bad panic attack?

With a list of questions written up and ready to go, I waited until the cardiologist had given me all the good news and started to ask…

No. He was firm about that. The ER x-rays were not accurate. I have an enlarged heart, he insisted. I gave him the same spiel that Dr. Doug Ross gave me about angles and heart cavities and misrepresentations…

No, the cardiologist said. An x-ray is like a shadow animal made on a wall – you can see the outline and shape of what I’m doing, but you can’t actually see what’s wrong with my hands.

Assuming that’s right, I asked, what is the best way to see what’s wrong with my heart? An ultrasound, he answered. He’d already given me one.

He reminded me of the same thing that Dr. Doug Ross had reminded me – I could seek a second opinion. I decided that everything would wait until I saw my primary care physician and see what he said. I had a chance to do that a little less than a week later.

He strongly suggested that I listen to the cardiologist. This is what he does, he said. He is a cardiac interventionalist. It’s his job to intervene and save peoples’ lives.

Neither my primary care physician nor the cardiologist said anything nasty about Dr. Doug Ross’s findings. Instead, they pointed out as an emergency room physician he knew a lot about a lot of different things. But a cardiologist is a specialist who basically knows everything there is to know about his specialty – which I fell into.

I’m still considering getting a second opinion, but I haven’t yet. It’s not because of what they disagree about; it’s because of what they agree on. An atrial flutter can be managed by medication, and that’s what we’re doing. But it can also make a pre-existing situation worse… which is why I don’t think the second opinion matters that much.

I weigh too much. Up until mid-October, I was a somewhat-regular smoker of cigars. I don’t get enough sleep, I wallow in too much stress, and I’m not getting enough exercise. Oddly enough, I do eat pretty healthily, but that’s about all I’ve got going for me, healthwise.

Whether or not my heart is enlarged – and for the record, let me state that I suspect it is – it doesn’t really matter. I need to continue to make some sweeping changes in my life. Improving my heart health happens the same time that I improve my all-over health. The doctors all agree that the best way to shrink my heart is to improve everything. The more weight I carry, the harder my heart works. I’ve quit smoking entirely, so my lungs will begin to return to a like-new condition and I’ll get more oxygen into my system with less effort. Getting sleep, removing stress… these keep my heart beating well, strong, and slowly.

I received good news. It just happened to come alongside a very stern warning: fix this or nothing will change.

I’m fixing this. I’m making the changes.

More next time.

From Bad to Worse to Pretty Good, Actually (Heart Sick, Pt. 3)

Click here to catch up on what's gone before.

November 10 went wrong from the moment I woke up. Within minutes, my heart started to race. I couldn’t breathe. My thoughts muddled then sharpened. I was upstairs and needed to be downstairs. Since I was brushing my teeth when this began, I left the bathroom, grabbed the nearest clothes and my phone, and hurried down to the living room.

As bad as I hate to say it, I have suffered a panic attack once or twice in the past. Needless to say, I didn’t like it. I was familiar with the feeling of helplessness and anxiety, the racing heart, and that adrenalin-fueled desperate need to fight or fly that marked a panic attack.

I don’t think this was it, but I’m not so naïve to fail to note the similarities.

I thought I was dying. Trying to take deep, calming breaths, I sat on the couch in the living room and tried to take control. My breathing was shallow and difficult – like it was the first time – but my heart beat so quickly that my fingers began to turn red and when I tried to pick up my phone, I was unable to operate it.

I dropped the phone and sat for some time, doing nothing but taking controlling breaths, as long and deep as I could. When I had control of my hands, I picked up the phone and called my doctor. I left a message about my condition and asked for someone to call me back.

I hung up and still sat there. Taking those controlling breaths, I realized I should call 911.

I didn’t. Just about the moment I’d decided I needed to do it, I couldn’t. Oddly, I focused on the realization that I had managed to grab a few little bite-sized chunks of control, and I held onto that. It seems to me that the moment I realized that I held some control, my heart slowed just a bit.

I knew that if I called 911, I would lose control. I’d be on their schedule, I’d have to get them in the gate, and go with them in their bus, and do whatever they wanted me to. And, speaking with complete honesty, I didn’t think I’d survive that.

I needed that control.

I called my girlfriend at work and told her what was happening. I asked her to get here as soon as she could, but safely.

She did. Knowing that she was coming gave me a bit more control. Very slowly and deliberately, I took the meds I was scheduled to take a bit later. I put the pill bottles in a zip bag, grabbed the clipboard with the pertinent medical information on it, and even let the dog out to handle his early-morning business. I put on my shoes and waited.

My girl picked me up and got me to the emergency room very quickly. I sat in the passenger seat and took those breaths and tried to ignore the rapid beating.

I survived, but I’m guessing you already knew that. The staff at the hospital was tremendous. They got me triaged and in to see someone in about a minute. I grew calm and my heart slowed down. By the time I was laying in bed with all the little various wires and whatnot attached, by beats per minute were down to 94 – which is almost 40 points lower than the last time they’d checked it with an EKG.

I was exhausted, freaked out, emotional… and my heart was beating better than it had since this whole thing had begun.

My girl was as frazzled as I, if not more. I may have been the guy in bed, but she was the one sitting there next to me, asking good questions of the doctors and putting things in perspective.

We went home that night, and I had orders to stay mellow over the weekend. My doctor called the next day to tweak my meds and reminded me that I had an appointment to see the cardiologist.

The emergency room doctor had given me some shocking, but wonderful news. The cardiologist had a different take on things… but it was still good.

Next time: The Good, the Bad, and the Unimportant.

Read "Heart Sick" here.

Read "Heart Sick Pt. 2: Pills, Pills, and More Pills" here.

Pills, Pills, and More Pills (Heart Sick, Pt. 2)

I’m having health issues. We’ve established that now, right?(Go here to read “Heart Sick.”)

One of the annoyances of chemically trying to manage one’s heart – besides the possibility of it all just going feet-up with no warning – is actually taking the medication that’s been prescribed. I’m on a few things right now. Most of these I’d never heard of before being diagnosed, but now I’m becoming good friends with them.

As one of those people who really would benefit from some nifty single-payer insurance, I opted to go ahead and get the generic of everything, providing it did the same thing – which it does.

Having the name brand didn’t mean a darn thing to me. It’s not like I was going to be showing off my pill-bling at the 7-11. I just went with what was effective and what was relatively cheap.

Everyone knows these blasted things by their bling names, though, and it’s easier to just refer to them that way. So when I say I’m taking the blood-thinner Coumadin, I’m actually taking the generic version Warfarin. And let’s be honest, that has a much cooler name.

I’m also taking Digoxin and Cordarone to keep my heart beating regularly and slowly, and on Furosemide to get excess water and salt out of my body. And I’m taking a metric poo-ton of Potassium, because that also tends to get washed out by the water pills.

It’s the combination of side effects and warnings that are the most fun. These cover most of the usual medication side effects: nausea, dizziness, dry mouth, you know the kind. But they also have some really spiffy ones, like possibly losing short-term memory, liver damage, and… something else. I can’t remember.

That was a joke. Rest easy.

I can’t have ibuprofen or aspirin, since those may affect the blood-thinners. So when I get a nasty headache, I have to take Tylenol instead. As far as I’m concerned, that’s like a painkiller on training wheels.

I also have to watch how much leafy greens I can have. I can’t have cranberry juice, cranberry sauce, grapefruit juice, or grapefruit. And – even better! – I get to have blood drawn at least once a week to see how all these are working.

Woo boy. Good times.

I can’t stand needles. I used to be phobic about them, but over time that’s gone away. I still don’t like them. I also don’t like taking excess medications. Grapefruit juice and cranberry juice are two of my favorite things. And when a migraine comes roaring in, I want nothing less than real aspirin to go to work on it.

But those are fairly unimportant in the scheme of things. If it will help keep me going, I’ll make all those changes, take all those pills, have blood drawn every week, and miss out on all the rest.

Man, I want some cranberry juice.