Station 3 – Episode 12 – Bowels and Pumps

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Station 3 – Episode 11 – Breach and Control

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This podcast presentation of Station 3 is copyright 2022 by Paul E Cooley and is protected by a creative commons, attribution, non-commercial, no-derivatives license.

This has been a presentation of Shadowpublications.com
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Station 3 – Episode 08 – Junction

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Station 3 – Episode 07 – Scuffle

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Moms are scary (a health update)

Howdy, folks.

Let me tell you a little story about how I ended up at the doctor. In full disclosure, my parents will no doubt read this and might complain about some details, and I must admit there might be an embellishment or two, but trust me, this is damned close to what happened.

My father, calls me under the pretense of discussing the Lightning’s drubbing of my Colorado Avalanche. Was an ugly affair and one I hope is not repeated.

We talk a bit about the game, joke about a few things, and my father asks, “You been to the doctor?”

Then I hear as if from another planet, my mother shouting “IS THAT PAUL?” My mother does not have a strong voice, so I cannot explain to you how ominous it is when she uses all of it.

Suddenly I’m an animal caught in the headlights of an oncoming semi. What should I say? She sounds pissed. Should I lie? Gripped with panic, I finally find the word I don’t want to say and stammer, “No.”

“IS THAT PAUL! HAS HE BEEN TO THE DOCTOR?”

The voice. It conjures the look of fury only a mother can have for their spawn or partner. It bores into you like a super heated laser, melts the flesh of your resolve, and shatters any delusion you ever had that you were an independent human being and completely beyond the childhood terror an angry parent is so adept at inciting.

“Now you’ve done it,” my father says and I can see the shit-eating grin on his face, the way his skin wrinkles around his blue eyes when he’s on the verge of a belly laugh.

I hear my mother breathing and my imagination conjures a dragon looking with disappointment at her hatchling that didn’t properly consume the human she had brought for a meal. The dragon is about to breathe fire and not the kind the hatchling enjoys.

She’s no longer far away–she’s taken the phone.

“YOU CALL THE DOCTOR THIS INSTANT!”

The voice shrieks through the phone making my hearing aid crackle with static and my body tremble with fear.

With that, she hands the phone back to my Dad.

Still in the throes of childhood terror, I say dumbly, “You set me up, didn’t you?”

My father merely laughs. “Call the doctor, son. She has spoken.”

*****

I have COPD. I have had respiratory issues since I was a kid and after 30 years of smoking, it should surprise no one that I’ve made things worse. Poor judgement and a lust for self-destruction tends to be an excellent mix for finding ways to kill yourself. Cigarettes were certainly mine.

Be that as it may, I was diagnosed with COPD when the first C-19 wave came sweeping through town and ended up with a high-powered inhaler that works quite well for the condition. The problem is that it can wreak havoc on your immune system and can even give you thrush. Not going to describe that one–go look it up.

So my immediate thought was that I’d gotten thrush or something similar from the inhaler. With that in mind, I visited my doc this morning.

After checking my respiratory and pulmonary and O2 absorption and all that other garbage, and after I mentioned I’d had a negative COVID test two days before, he wrinkles his nose and says, “Strep. Might be strep.”

He departs and the medical assistant arrives, takes a painful swab from my throat, and disappears leaving me to continue reading and enjoying Ed Lorn’s Bay’s End (highly recommend it, by the way). After a fifteen minute wait, the assistant enters the exam room with two pieces of paper.

“No strep,” she says.

I blink at her. “So…”

“Tea and honey. Gargle with saltwater. It’ll really help. Also, try and limit how much you talk until you’re better. Allergies are terrible for everyone right now and you’re susceptible to the awful air.” She shakes her head. “Bad for everyone like you.”

Like me.

Since C-19, I’ve worn an N95 mask, not worn a mask, etc, just like most other human beings on the planet that have become complacent. The funny thing is, because of the masks, I can walk the dog and actually do lawn work without being doubled over and hacking like a man thirty years my senior. The sad part is this is probably my new normal.

Guess I need to be more diligent about wearing it outside until we actually get some rain here. Dry as a bone, hotter than hell. It’s only June.

Regardless, I’ll have a little jibber jab in Friday’s episode, but I doubt it will be much. I’m going to rest my voice and focus on writing for the moment.

The content is coming folks. Thank you for your patience.

Cheers.

Station 3 – Episode 06 – Medbay

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This podcast presentation of Station 3 is copyright 2022 by Paul E Cooley and is protected by a creative commons, attribution, non-commercial, no-derivatives license.

This has been a presentation of Shadowpublications.com
where some mysteries shouldn’t be solved.

“The Black”–RIP

Many years ago, The Black podcast resulted in my first Parsec Award and the novel itself was my first bestseller. It brought a lot of people to my work and still does. Today, I nuked the podcasts and the YT vids in prep for the new editions. It hurt. It really hurt.

I hadn’t expected that, to be honest. Ever since I immersed myself into The Derelict Saga, my favorite mistake of all time, The Black became this series I was associated with, loved for, and didn’t want to write anymore.

Wait. I didn’t want to write it anymore?

No. I didn’t.

The challenge of a series like The Black is finding ways to constantly raise the stakes, do something new with the creature the audience hasn’t witnessed in previous volumes, and make it all advance both the mythos of the creature and the characters caught in its maelstrom.

At some point, you feel like your plumbing the ridiculous just to put out another book. I didn’t want to be that person. Still don’t.

Fear of failure is a special neuroses that all folks have at some point or another. You’d think after so many years of writing books that didn’t sell, but were well received, I’d be completely immune to that kind of self-doubt. I’m not. Probably never will be.

It wasn’t until after I struggled my way through Evolution that I saw a new book that could successfully wrap up the entire series. I started work on it, but Derelict: Trident demanded to be written, and therefore, I abandoned Extinction yet again.

However, Oceania popped into my head. A chance to do something new, something cool, and drag one of my favorite characters from the series into a new and hazardous situation that spawns new horrors, new possibilities, and more importantly, would add significant portions to the mythos that will help Extinction become an absolutely incredible finale for the series.

I think the series is well served by my extended absence from it. Perhaps it will do even better with someone else’s voice reading my words and adding their non-mush-mouth performance to the tales.

For better or worse, the deal is done, and it’s time to move forward into an uncertain future.

RIP, old me.

Station 3 – Episode 05 – Stalking Survivors

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Station 3 – Episode 03 – Elevator

We’re on an elevator to hell?

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This podcast presentation of Station 3 is copyright 2022 by Paul E Cooley and is protected by a creative commons, attribution, non-commercial, no-derivatives license.

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where some mysteries shouldn’t be solved.