So a couple weeks back, I ended up hospitalized for three days after seven hours of sex.

Not because of the sex, mind, though that would make for a much more interesting story. After we finished, I started feeling what I thought was indigestion, and…

Hang on, wait, lemme back up. I was in Missouri, because…

No, wait, not back far enough.

I started out in Florida. My mom was diagnosed with cancer last November, so I’ve been spending a fair bit of time shuttling back and forth between Portland and Florida, as I help my dad care for her.

And not incidentally take tons of photos of her cats, which, and I say this purely objectively, are two of the most gorgeous felines ever to grace humanity with their presence. I mean, look at these two!

That’s Thelma (right) and Louise (left), and those names should give you a hint as to their attitudes and general disposition.

Anyway, I went to Florida in September, and from there flew to Springfield, MO to see my Talespinner and attend a sci-fi con with her. One of the cool things about being a writer, I can work from anywhere I have an Internet connection.

At first, all was good. No, scratch that, all was lovely. We had a wonderful time, that included a seven-hour marathon sex session during which we gave the xenomorph facehugger gag a thorough shake-down test cruise (verdict: it works splendidly but still needs a few design tweaks).

After that and some Chinese takeout, I started feeling a bit yucky. Yucky enough that we set out at 2AM for some Rolaids at the local Kum & Go, which, hand to God, is actually what they call convenience stores in Missourt.

The Rolaids didn’t work. In fact, in the span of about three hours I went from “I think I have indigestion” to spewing blood from both ends, quite literally. It was…distressingly disgusting.

So, long story short, I ended up in the hospital. For three days. While they put an endoscope down my throat and discovered a tear in my esophagus and a hole in the lining of my stomach. Both of which they fixed, but yeah, that was even more unpleasant than you probably think.

Side note: they shot me full of Dilaudid, which is injectable hydromorphone, think heroin but less kind and fuzzy. That honestly sucked almost as bad as the spewing-blood part. I will never understand why people use opioids recreationally. Dear God.

Anyway, I got to ride in an ambulance! Not as much fun as TV makes it seem. The guy riding in the back with me spent most of his time on his phone.

The doctors aren’t entirely sure what caused the malfunction, though the leading hypothesis is a bad reaction to a drug my Portland doctor put me on to control nightmares from complex PTSD. So, y’know, that’s a thing.

Still, a successful trip both to Florida and to Missouri, hospital stay notwithstanding. Apparently I have a $17,000 hospital bill heading my way, because I live in a savage country with a healthcare system optimized for profit, and there’s some question about whether or not my insurance will cover it, so that’s also a thing.

Had a blast at the sci-fi con. Think I’ll probably attend rather a lot of cons in 2024.