I told the origin of the story when Safeword: Davenport first came out, but here it is again.
My husband needed to have emergency open heart surgery involving a heart valve. He was in surgery for something like eight or ten hours, and if we hadn’t had one of the top thoracic surgeons in the nation there’s a very good chance I wouldn’t have him with me any more.
Both his surgeon and his cardiologist were carefully preparing me for the worst, at first. The first few days I sat in the ICU waiting room and typed when I couldn’t be by his side, and then when he went to a room, I sat by his side while he slept, and I typed. My kids stayed at my parents house, and I Skyped them in the morning, and then helped with homework over Skype in the evenings. Otherwise, I was typing.
I believe time heals all wounds, so I wrote a story of someone who’d lost her husband a year before, and was just beginning to figure out how to start living again. He’s my soul mate, and working to convince myself I’d survive, eventually, was the only thing that kept me sane.
When the doctors finally started talking about him eventually going home again, I set the story aside and didn’t go back to it for over a year. It took a piece of my soul to write these books.
My husband is fine now. He needs antibiotics before he goes to the dentist, and he has quite the scar running down his chest, and I can still feel the wires they used to reconnect his sternum, but otherwise, there are no residual affects. We’ll celebrate our 17th wedding anniversary in February.
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