Most people, unless they are good friends, see me walking around SF cons, and they usually don't realize I'm handicapped. Yes, that's right, handicapped. Officially. Car placards and everything. I have a congenital malformation in both knees that caused them to wear out at twice the normal rate. The cartilage is shredded and gone, and I am bone-on-bone in both knees. My orthopedist says it's only a matter of time before I need knee replacements.
Now, I know that's a very successful surgery and I've collected stories from people who've had it done, singing its praises, by way of research. The problem is, I've been cut on enough lately and am not over-eager to have more cutting anytime soon; and frankly, the idea of hacking out my bones and replacing them with metal and plastic gives me the willies. Yes, I'm a scientist. Yes, I think it's wonderful technology. But there is a psychological factor involved that I haven't yet managed to overcome. May never overcome.
In fact I went through a period of depression after he told me. I've never really considered myself athletic, per se, but I've always been very active in sports - everything from golf and tennis to karate and polo. Most of those have had to be curtailed. I fought it, tooth and nail, but these days my athletics come mostly in the gym. I eventually came out of the depression when I found I wasn't relegated to a rocking chair on the porch - yet.
When I bend my knees it sounds like a whole mixing bowl of Rice Krispies. It feels much worse. There is hardly a day that goes by that I am not in pain as a result. But you get used to it. You learn to deal unless something happens to really make 'em flare, and you learn to use other body parts to compensate. My arms and shoulders are stronger because of using them to assist; there are down sides to that, however. Like impinged rotator cuffs, which has happened something like 4-5 times since my knees were diagnosed. I no longer even see a therapist for that - I simply start the appropriate exercises. I have a nice collection of canes for the really bad days, too. Most people don't see those much anymore; sometimes they're more in the way than they are help.
Now, there are things that I do periodically to help the knees. One of the most normal and most regular is to get into the gym and keep my leg muscles strong. My orthopedist is in agreement that this helps stabilize my knees. But the most invasive, and most effective, of these things I do is to have an artificial lubricant injected into the joint to take the place of the cartilage that isn't there anymore. It used to require a six-week protocol, 3 weeks for each knee. Now that I'm used to it, they do both knees at once.
The first step in the process is to swab the injection site on the outside of my knee with alcohol, then hit it thoroughly with "freeze spray" to numb it. Next comes a novocaine injection directly into the joint. Leaving the needle in, my orthopedist swaps out the empty novocaine syringe for a full Synvisc syringe, and pumps that in. Back out, apply a band-aid, and repeat on other knee. Do this for 3 weeks, to give each blob of Synvisc time to spread out around the joints, and I'm good to go for anywhere from 6 months to a couple years. Yeah, it's kinda cringe-worthy. I don't watch while he's doing it. (I did once.)
But the cool thing is, between the novocaine and the Synvisc, there's a period of anywhere from 12 to 24 hours when my knees DO NOT HURT. At all.
This is an incredible blessing and it always surprises me. When you're used to living in pain, no matter how small (and this is not especially small, but like I said, you deal and you ignore) and that pain suddenly goes away, it's amazing. I had the first injections of the 3-week protocol this morning, and I am so relaxed I could easily fall asleep sitting here. There is a tension missing from my body, something I'd grown used to that's not there right now, and as a result I'm all but a puddle of Jell-O.
It's nice. I intend to enjoy it while it lasts. I'm not allowed to work out today or tomorrow, due to the potential of swelling. But I'm certainly not going to let this wonderful, relaxed, pain-free feeling go to waste.
I'm going to take a nap. The pain can wait until tomorrow.
-Stephanie Osborn
http://www.stephanie-osborn.com
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Thursday, November 17, 2011
Friday, October 28, 2011
R.I.P Comet Elenin (and rumors, too!)
It's dead, Jim.
Comet Elenin is no more.
According to both NASA and Sky and Telescope, Comet Elenin has disintegrated. A first-time comet, meaning it had never been into the inner Solary System before, Elenin was predicted by astronomers to be a bright, beautiful comet, if not quite in the same league as Hale-Bopp. It was simultaneously predicted by some (who didn't understand orbital mechanics) to be the end of the world. Instead, its falling inward toward the sun proved to be the end of the comet.
Coming in from outside the plane of the ecliptic, it would have made for a gorgeous sight for Northern Hemisphere observers, who haven't had a bright comet placed for good viewing in some time. The inclination of this comet relative to the ecliptic (plane of the solar system) would have changed that.
Instead, by April it was showing signs of coming apart at the seams. In August, it was hit broadside by a large coronal mass ejection from the sun, which blew away much of the volatile material that would have made it a lovely comet.
(Contrary to some claims, there was no "energy shield" which protected it from the CME. Any "sightings" of such a thing were likely inadvertent misinterpretations of a bow shock between the cometary material and the CME. Tetrahedral "shields" are unlikely in any event due to the difficulty in producing such a shape - spherical would be much more likely, IF such a shield had existed. I love the way the "true believers" shifted from "natural object" to "alien spacecraft" as soon as evidence for the former vanished in a puff of dust and gas.)
Three weeks before perihelion (closest approach to the Sun) which would have been on September 10, it completely disintegrated. According to comet expert John Bortle, "The decline/fade of Elenin was abrupt and dramatic."
All that's left of the once and never "planet-killer" is a loose, wispy cloud of gas and dust, rapidly dispersing, according to photographs.
Hopefully, so too will be the rumors of its threat.
-Stephanie Osborn
http://www.stephanie-osborn.com
Comet Elenin is no more.
According to both NASA and Sky and Telescope, Comet Elenin has disintegrated. A first-time comet, meaning it had never been into the inner Solary System before, Elenin was predicted by astronomers to be a bright, beautiful comet, if not quite in the same league as Hale-Bopp. It was simultaneously predicted by some (who didn't understand orbital mechanics) to be the end of the world. Instead, its falling inward toward the sun proved to be the end of the comet.
Coming in from outside the plane of the ecliptic, it would have made for a gorgeous sight for Northern Hemisphere observers, who haven't had a bright comet placed for good viewing in some time. The inclination of this comet relative to the ecliptic (plane of the solar system) would have changed that.
Instead, by April it was showing signs of coming apart at the seams. In August, it was hit broadside by a large coronal mass ejection from the sun, which blew away much of the volatile material that would have made it a lovely comet.
(Contrary to some claims, there was no "energy shield" which protected it from the CME. Any "sightings" of such a thing were likely inadvertent misinterpretations of a bow shock between the cometary material and the CME. Tetrahedral "shields" are unlikely in any event due to the difficulty in producing such a shape - spherical would be much more likely, IF such a shield had existed. I love the way the "true believers" shifted from "natural object" to "alien spacecraft" as soon as evidence for the former vanished in a puff of dust and gas.)
Three weeks before perihelion (closest approach to the Sun) which would have been on September 10, it completely disintegrated. According to comet expert John Bortle, "The decline/fade of Elenin was abrupt and dramatic."
All that's left of the once and never "planet-killer" is a loose, wispy cloud of gas and dust, rapidly dispersing, according to photographs.
Hopefully, so too will be the rumors of its threat.
-Stephanie Osborn
http://www.stephanie-osborn.com
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
First Book of a New Series!
Book 1 of the Displaced Detective Series, The Case of the Displaced Detective: The Arrival (for more information see http://www.sff.net/people/steph-osborn/DDTheArrival.html) will be released in November! The official release date is 15 Nov, but that's the day it comes from the printer. Books won't be available from stores (website or otherwise) until around 28Nov-1Dec. Currently Barnes-Noble is accepting pre-orders, and it will be on Amazon as well, but hold that thought for a moment.
Because I am proclaiming Thursday, 1 Dec, to be The Arrival Day!
I am asking all my fans to WAIT and place their orders/purchases on that day, 1 Dec, in the hopes that we can push it as high as possible on the best-seller listings! So please hold off ordering until that day, and then EVERYONE buy on that day! Also please feel free to forward this email to anyone you think will be interested in a science fiction spy mystery that INCLUDES Sherlock Holmes! That means SF fans, mystery fans, spy mystery fans, Sherlock Holmes fans, and anybody that likes a good read!
This story idea hit me and came spewing out in two months! I've never written so hard, so fast! I'm very proud of it and I think you're going to really enjoy it! So let's work together to ensure it does great!
-Steph
http://www.stephanie-osborn.com
Because I am proclaiming Thursday, 1 Dec, to be The Arrival Day!
I am asking all my fans to WAIT and place their orders/purchases on that day, 1 Dec, in the hopes that we can push it as high as possible on the best-seller listings! So please hold off ordering until that day, and then EVERYONE buy on that day! Also please feel free to forward this email to anyone you think will be interested in a science fiction spy mystery that INCLUDES Sherlock Holmes! That means SF fans, mystery fans, spy mystery fans, Sherlock Holmes fans, and anybody that likes a good read!
This story idea hit me and came spewing out in two months! I've never written so hard, so fast! I'm very proud of it and I think you're going to really enjoy it! So let's work together to ensure it does great!
-Steph
http://www.stephanie-osborn.com
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Ten Years. Not Forgotten. NEVER Forgotten.
September 11, 2001. A day that will live in infamy, if I may make so bold as to paraphrase a famous speech - and one that launched us into a war just as surely.
For though time has dulled the memory for some, it has sharpened it for others. And perhaps, on this tenth anniversary, it is time to refresh the memory, so that all may have sharp, poignant memories of that day. So that all may never forget - whether the families of the victims, whose hearts were ripped out that day; the terrorist perpetrators, who assuredly will one day receive their just deserts, whether at the hands of those they attacked or those of a Just Providence; and the rest of us, witnesses to the events of that horrible, dreadful day.
Ten years.
Two weeks before the attack, I myself flew out of the airport where the doomed flights originated; there but for the grace of God went I. The morning of the attack, I rose to prepare for work, turned on the television, saw one of the Twin Towers already ablaze and gaped in horror. As I watched, the second plane crashed into the other tower and I understood sufficient to know that we were being attacked. Since I was then working on a space defense program, I promptly called in and left a message for my boss to ensure that he and my coworkers would know what was going on. There was, in my mind, the possibility that our program could be called into active operations at any moment, though I considered it unlikely. Still, it is best to be prepared. Desperate times. Desperate measures.
Then I did my utmost to perform my morning ablutions in front of the bedroom television. So I saw, watching on in horror, when the towers collapsed. I knew they were full of both innocents and heroes, emergency responders who flung themselves into the heart of the catastrophe with no thought for themselves. I was helpless to do anything but pray. But that, I could do; and that, I did.
I saw the Pentagon attacked; heard of the fourth plane somewhere in the air. Considerably later I heard about the bravery of the men and women aboard it who prevented the terrorists from carrying out their evil deed. I also heard that the son of a friend, attending Penn, saw that crash take place with his own eyes and was deeply upset.
Eventually I made it in to work. By then all flights across the country had been grounded, and remained so for several days. Since the main Boeing campus, where I was assigned, was between the ends of the runways of Huntsville International Airport, and we were used to hearing all sorts of aircraft taking off and landing through the day, the silence was eerie. And ominous. One part of my brain longed for the familiar sound, but the other part knew that if I did, it likely foretold my imminent death.
Descriptions began coming back from people I knew who had either been in NYC at the time, or had to travel there shortly after the resumption of flight. The smoke, the stench of death, of decaying flesh that could not be alleviated: the realization that there were no bodies, really, left to recover. The victims - thousands of victims - had become integral parts of the rubble.
And the anger. The injustice. Crazed zealots determined to kill innocent people, men women and children, and themselves as well - simply because they could. Just because they hated this country. I could see performing a suicide mission in an act of desperation, to protect my family and loved ones. But just because I could?! Just to lash out at someone I disliked, someone with whom I disagreed, someone who didn't believe as I did? Dear GOD! I ask You - what were they thinking??
What ARE they thinking?
Since then, my friend Travis S. Taylor and I have written a science fiction novel revolving around futuristic terrorism and homeland security, called Extraction Point! In some ways I think it was our way of trying to put things into perspective, at least for oursleves. For my part, I don't think it succeeded, although by all accounts it certainly makes for a roller coaster of a read.
What are they THINKING?
I will never understand the thoughts of the terrorists responsible for 9-11.
But I can assure you, I will never forget.
-Stephanie Osborn
http://www.stephanie-osborn.com
For though time has dulled the memory for some, it has sharpened it for others. And perhaps, on this tenth anniversary, it is time to refresh the memory, so that all may have sharp, poignant memories of that day. So that all may never forget - whether the families of the victims, whose hearts were ripped out that day; the terrorist perpetrators, who assuredly will one day receive their just deserts, whether at the hands of those they attacked or those of a Just Providence; and the rest of us, witnesses to the events of that horrible, dreadful day.
Ten years.
Two weeks before the attack, I myself flew out of the airport where the doomed flights originated; there but for the grace of God went I. The morning of the attack, I rose to prepare for work, turned on the television, saw one of the Twin Towers already ablaze and gaped in horror. As I watched, the second plane crashed into the other tower and I understood sufficient to know that we were being attacked. Since I was then working on a space defense program, I promptly called in and left a message for my boss to ensure that he and my coworkers would know what was going on. There was, in my mind, the possibility that our program could be called into active operations at any moment, though I considered it unlikely. Still, it is best to be prepared. Desperate times. Desperate measures.
Then I did my utmost to perform my morning ablutions in front of the bedroom television. So I saw, watching on in horror, when the towers collapsed. I knew they were full of both innocents and heroes, emergency responders who flung themselves into the heart of the catastrophe with no thought for themselves. I was helpless to do anything but pray. But that, I could do; and that, I did.
I saw the Pentagon attacked; heard of the fourth plane somewhere in the air. Considerably later I heard about the bravery of the men and women aboard it who prevented the terrorists from carrying out their evil deed. I also heard that the son of a friend, attending Penn, saw that crash take place with his own eyes and was deeply upset.
Eventually I made it in to work. By then all flights across the country had been grounded, and remained so for several days. Since the main Boeing campus, where I was assigned, was between the ends of the runways of Huntsville International Airport, and we were used to hearing all sorts of aircraft taking off and landing through the day, the silence was eerie. And ominous. One part of my brain longed for the familiar sound, but the other part knew that if I did, it likely foretold my imminent death.
Descriptions began coming back from people I knew who had either been in NYC at the time, or had to travel there shortly after the resumption of flight. The smoke, the stench of death, of decaying flesh that could not be alleviated: the realization that there were no bodies, really, left to recover. The victims - thousands of victims - had become integral parts of the rubble.
And the anger. The injustice. Crazed zealots determined to kill innocent people, men women and children, and themselves as well - simply because they could. Just because they hated this country. I could see performing a suicide mission in an act of desperation, to protect my family and loved ones. But just because I could?! Just to lash out at someone I disliked, someone with whom I disagreed, someone who didn't believe as I did? Dear GOD! I ask You - what were they thinking??
What ARE they thinking?
Since then, my friend Travis S. Taylor and I have written a science fiction novel revolving around futuristic terrorism and homeland security, called Extraction Point! In some ways I think it was our way of trying to put things into perspective, at least for oursleves. For my part, I don't think it succeeded, although by all accounts it certainly makes for a roller coaster of a read.
What are they THINKING?
I will never understand the thoughts of the terrorists responsible for 9-11.
But I can assure you, I will never forget.
-Stephanie Osborn
http://www.stephanie-osborn.com
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Extraction Point! Ch 1 part 3
Extraction Point!
by Travis S. Taylor & Stephanie Osborn
http://www.stephanie-osborn.com
Ray turned the corner and nearly slammed face first into a brick wall, stopping just in time to scratch his right elbow up a little more on the rough brick as he caught himself against the wall. Ow. Really needed THAT. Quickly he scanned around for an exit. There was only one--a primer-coated metal staircase up the side of the building--and the man had a full story and a half head start on him. It was almost as if the man knew the route he was going and had known the staircase would be there.
Shoving his way through the pain and exhaustion, Ray threw himself up the staircase, keeping his pace steady and the man in sight. Twice he saw the man slip on the wet metal steps, and each time Ray made a slight gain on him, his treaded boots proving a better grip on the metal than the man's street shoes. Pushing harder than he thought he could, Ray closed the gap to only half a story behind the man as he went out of sight over the rooftop of the ten story building.
Ray crested the rooftop cautiously and there was the man, sitting on the edge of the rooftop barely a couple of meters away, looking over the edge at the street below and then at his watch–or one of them; for some reason, he was wearing two. Different ones, at that. His pale blond thatch, cut short enough to stand in upright spikes but not short enough to qualify as a buzz cut, wilted a bit in the rain.
"You… you are rather good," the man offered, wiped blood from his aquiline--though now slightly misshapen--nose, gasped for breath, and looked at his watch again with bright blue eyes.
"Listen, I've got backup right behind me. There is no way down and I can keep you busy long enough for 'em to catch you. What d' you say we just sit down, take a breather, and wait on 'em?" Ray panted and smiled at the same time, hoping to stall long enough that he wouldn't have to fight the guy any more before backup arrived.
"I've got a better idea." The man looked at his watch one last time and then leapt over the side of the rooftop, pushing off with his hands as he slipped gracefully from the lip of the ledge. There was a brief flash of white light--Ray assumed it was lightning--that caused him to flinch and cover his eyes for a moment. And the man was gone.
"NO!" Ray rushed to the edge of the building, peered over, and… saw… nothing. "What the hell!?" No blood on the street below, no screaming passersby, no squished and maimed body–nothing.
"Ray! You all right?" a voice from behind him gasped.
Ray stood there, confused--no, flabbergasted--peering over the edge of the building, visually searching every nook, cranny, alley, and pavement all the way down. Nothing. The man had simply vanished like a ghost. No body, no visible escape route, no sign.
The rain continued to wash the red blood from Ray's broken nose and swelling lip down the front of his already stained and ripped shirt and he could still hear the music off in the distance somewhere. He stood in a contemplative calmness, surveying the volume of space off the side of the building, and gasping for air as his heartbeat slowed. How in the. Bloody. Damn. HELL did he get away? This time, is it… nah, can't be.
"Your pistol, Ray." A young man in his late twenties with a blond military haircut and an athlete's build scanned the rooftop as he offered Ray his weapon.
"Huh? Oh, thanks, Jay." Ray took his favorite handgun, checked the magazine and safety, and slipped it in the clip holster on his waistband at his back. When he did, cold water squished from the holster, down his back and into his already soaked underwear, giving him a severe chill. He shivered violently for a second. He was still more than a bit dazed by what had happened moments ago--and the beating he'd taken--oh yeah, and the running.
"Uh, Dr. Brady?"
"What? I know, he got away." Ray panted, still having a hard time talking between breaths.
"Uh, no sir, uh, Ray, you've been shot." Major Sampson pointed to the bloody mess on his left shoulder. The young Army major said it nonchalantly as if he had seen the same situation before.
"Oh, that. It's just a flesh wound," Ray waved his hand in dismissal–right before he collapsed backwards onto the rooftop.
"Man down! Medic!" Sampson called over the radio.
---
Extraction Point! is available for purchase through Barnes-Noble and Amazon, as well as Twilight Times Books.
See other books by Stephanie Osborn at http://www.stephanie-osborn.com
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