Olo Books

Black Friday Sale: Dancing Through the Chaos, 50% off!

melissayuaninnes — Fri, 25 Nov 2011 17:22:35 +0000

In the spirit of Thanksgiving, Dancing Through the Chaos is now on sale for $2.99 (half of the usual retail price).

Three best friends.

One belly dancing class.

Every Monday, on penalty of death or cheesecake.

Kate Zhao, the corporate lawyer, worries mostly about her billable hours and Asian no-ass syndrome…until she gets bushwhacked by a friend request on Facebook. Her best friend/first lover dumped her at age 17, but now that he’s all grown up, he wants to make it up to her.

Hailey St. Laurent, the über-mother of an infant girl, barely makes time for their belly dancing class, until she figures out that she loves it more than her husband.

Gavriella Schumacher, the sassy Jewish engineer, picks up a guy who turns down the fornication. Is he crazy, or does she smell that bad?

Dancing Through the Chaos.

Sex. City. And a little bit of rhythm.

On special for a limited time only: $2.99 on the Kindle, iPad, Kobo, Nook & Sony ereader formats.

Winners of the Code Blues/Devil’s in the Details Contest

melissayuaninnes — Fri, 25 Nov 2011 15:20:28 +0000

Congratulations to the wonderful winners. Instead of posting little details like “My respirologist has a squeeze toy in the shape of lungs,” these people offered full-fledged stories!

First place: Michael Angel

Second place: Anonymous

Third place: Cindie Geddes

Honourable Mention: Dr. Michael Moreton

And now, on to the stories!

First place:

Michael Angel

My only medical ‘detail’ story is really a small item that many others would miss, as it was about a young doctor, not a device or strange implement.

Back around 1999, I ended up in the emergency room when my ulcers ended up rupturing a blood vessel in the stomach. Once it was determined which end of my GI tract was bleeding, I was prepped for surgery to put a scope and a laser, I believe, down the esophagus to cauterize the leak.

I was very woozy, but remember being by myself in the hospital bed, late at night, feeling all alone. Two doctors, one crusty old resident and one young doctor, came to check on me one last time before I went in. I put on a brave face, but honestly, I was flat-out terrified. I’d never been so close to feeling out of control, completely at someone else’s mercy as to whether I’d make it through the night.

So I shivered. The older doctor noted this, saying something to the effect of “What’s the matter?” I replied, “I’m…just…cold.” He huffed, “It’s not that cold in here.”

The younger doctor didn’t say anything. He saw the look in my eyes, and simply reached out and took my hand in his. The very act, that ounce of compassion, instantly calmed me. He knew I was scared, knew I was shamming the ‘cold’, and let me know that though I wasn’t out of the woods, they were going to do their best.

I stopped shivering.

As you can guess, I made a full recovery, which included a regimen of drugs to kill H. Pylori. And though I never learned the young doctor’s name (I was too out of it that night to note his tag), I’ll never forget what he did.

- Michael Angel

*

Second Place (Anonymous)

Make Me a Woman

I recall as a teen contracting The Clap in the early ’70s, back when it was the second worst STD on the scene. (It was more fun to horrify each other with stories of Syphilis-inspired brain rot and madness.)

Although I made light of it, waxing lyrical about the “annoying drip, drip, drip of Gonorrhea”, and singing, “Gonorrhea, Why?” (to the tune of “Cara Mia Why?”) I was actually quite distressed, and I was a very shy young thing, too. I slipped into the VD Clinic as anonymously as possible (as I am now writing this post) and submitted with quiet dread to a pelvic exam given by a retired (back from the dead) male doctor with a hearing problem. Like going to Grampa for an oil check. (Oh, God.)

On my back, blinking at the bright light, trying my best to keep my mind elsewhere, I endured his fumblings with the speculum, which wouldn’t go in. Instead of taking it out and having a peek, he kept pushing on it, rather painfully from my end of things, as I, having analyzed the problem, called out, “I think I have a tampon in! I think I have a tampon in!” The nurse at his elbow lent her voice to mine. “Doctor, she thinks she has a tampon in!”

At last he heard us, stopped trying to shove my cervix up my nose from the inside, and allowed me to take the tampon out. It is no surprise that after the exam, when he got me to stand up and gave me a nice big injection in the butt, that I finally passed out cold on the floor.

Gonorrhea, why, indeed?
–Anonymous

Third Place: Cindie Geddes

I went to my favorite doctor for an allergy shot. We got to talking and I mentioned some pain I was having in my abdomen. He felt the spot I pointed to and said it was likely some kind of calcium deposit (he probably said something more medical, but I’m not a doctor, so I don’t really remember) on my sutures from a hernia operation a year earlier. He used to be a surgeon. “We can just go in the next room, and I can get it right now,” he said.

“Can I watch?” I asked. I’m always fascinated by how my body works.

“Sure. We’ll use the vasectomy table.”

We went in, set the table so I was nearly sitting up, and went to it. He gave me some numbing injections, cut my ab open and dug around until he found the sutures. Sure enough, he found what looked like little rocks at the ends of my sutures. But cutting them off was going to be awkward because he was the one holding the retractor thingies.

“Can I help?” I was loving the whole thing. Couldn’t feel anything but tugging, but he was giving me the tour of what he was cutting and why, and it all looked pretty damn cool.

“Sure,” he gloved me up and handed me the retractor thingies, and I held them while he snipped the little rocks off. Then he let me feel the little rocks (still gloved), and that’s exactly what they felt like — rocks. Suddenly, my pain made perfect sense.

My recovery was the easiest I’ve had of any ab surgery (I’ve had, I think, nine) because I knew exactly what had been done and understood exactly what was happening during recovery.

I had a similar little surgery two years earlier. Cost: $7,000 (thank dog for insurance). With that one, I was knocked out, had the usual huge staff, waited in pre-op for three hours, post-op for six. Cost for this one: $700. Complete time from entering the vasectomy room to going home: 35 minutes.

My doc gave me his cell phone number to keep him posted on how my recovery was going and insists I use it still for any little question or concern I have.

This is all very very wrong in the US. I don’t use his name because I suspect he could get in big trouble. But it’s my favorite interaction with a doctor ever. And the easiest procedure I’ve ever had. I love this guy.

–Cindie Geddes

Honourable Mention: Dr. Michael Moreton

Dr. Moreton was gracious enough to contribute two stories.

The call came when I was in the Ante-Natal clinic at the United Family Hospital
in Beijing. It was from the Consular department at the American Embassy. A
pregnant American woman who was working with an aid agency in Tibet had
gone in to premature labor, they had contacted the assistance company to fly her
out but Washington had insisted that an Obstetrician go with the team. A wise
precaution. As, at that time in 2000, I was the only licensed western Ob in Beijing
there was not much choice of who should go.

I picked up an Emergency delivery pack from Labor and Delivery and the
appropriate medications that we were using to relax the Uterus from the
pharmacy and while waiting the SOS team to pick me up, did a little shopping.

We were using a military plane as they were roomier than any other planes. The
Chinese military is very business orientated and their ambulance planes were
available for hire.

We took off and had an uneventful flight and we landed in Lhasa. It was crystal
clear day and after the murky skies of Beijing the intensity of the light gave
everything film-set appearance. Unfortunately there was no time for sightseeing
and we drove to the hospital.

I was apprehensive; I had been to Chinese hospitals on evacuations before where
they were reluctant to release the western patient. Partly as it was a loss of
face but also a loss of a golden goose. This time it went without incident and
the staff were very accommodating. I handed out the products of my shopping,
canned hams, pantyhose and cigarettes always seemed to be useful for this part
of the ceremonies. The patient was pleased to see us and her contractions were
infrequent and mild. After monitoring things for a few minutes we loaded her
onto the ambulance and started for the airport. It was at this point that I started
to feel light-headed and a little breathless. I discounted this feeling that just
thinking about Mountain sickness had caused psychosomatic effects.

When we were on the runway loading the stretcher on which she was lying
was a difficult maneuver. It took four of us to do it as we had to raise it to chest
level to get it onto the plane and I was in a position where I took a lot of the

weight. When the stretcher was loaded, I stepped back and at that point it hit.
A blinding headache, a wave of nausea and a desperate feeling of shortage of
breath overwhelmed me. They bundled me onto the plane, shut the door, gave
me oxygen and within minutes I felt better. Luckily the plane had two beds, so the
patient and I lay alongside each other on the return journey. She was very calm
and reassured me that everything was under control.

Dr Michael Moreton is a Canadian OB/GYN who spent over nine years in China. He is now the International Medical Coordinator of The Bangkok Hospital, Thailand.

___

I was a House Physician at the Liverpool Royal Infirmary in 1964. A

patient was admitted with confusing symptoms and after investigation
it was found that he was suffering from chronic arsenic poisoning, as he
had been exposed to arsenic in his workplace for many years.

Even on the professorial medical service nobody had any experience in
treating this problem. We made rounds and presented the case to Dr
Sutton the junior consultant on the service. When we came to therapy
he turned to me and said “Phone Dr Preble and see if he has any
advice” This was quite logical Dr P was a Consultant Veneriologist and
had had experience in using arsenic in the treatment STDs before the
advent of penicillin. He surely would have seen overdoses and would be
able to advise.

I called him at his private clinic in Rodney St.

‘Good afternoon sir, I am Dr Moreton, a House Physician at the Royal
and I need your advice —- “ He cut me off.

“Don’t say a word on the phone, dear boy. Come and see me this
afternoon”

For more of Dr Michael Moreton’s tales, please read the Medical Post.

Werewolves, Unite!

melissayuaninnes — Wed, 19 Oct 2011 01:25:14 +0000

Wolf Ice

Wolf ice killed Leila’s best friend. And now it’s stealing Leila’s self-control.

Wolf ice disinhibits werewolf brains: it makes them act like animals. Lusty, angry, hungry animals.

Wolf ice drives Leila straight into the arms (and on to other anatomical parts) of her ex-boyfriend.

Wolf ice could slay all Montreal wers–in fact, all wers around the world–unless Leila stops him.

Can she fight past the lust in order to save her species?

Available on the Kindle, iPad, Kobo, Nook & Sony ereader formats

She’s baaaack

melissayuaninnes — Tue, 11 Oct 2011 14:35:21 +0000

I’m baaaaack.

That’s right. You can’t keep the Most Unfeeling Doctor in the World away, not even with hate mail and one-star reviews (been there, done that, don’t need any more T-shirts, thanks). If you’re tired of empathy and all that patient-centred milk of human kindness mumbo jumbo, roll with me, baby.

This collection is called unplugged for a few reasons. Not only is “unplugged” a fun ’90s musical reference, but dictionary.com also defines it as “to remove an obstruction from.”

And you, the readers of my first Unfeeling Doctor book, have helped me remove an obstruction, namely, any of my lingering doubts about indie publishing. Thank you so much for (temporarily) driving The Most Unfeeling Doctor in the World into the top 0.15 percent of Kindle sales. I now officially consider indie publishing a splendid shortcut for readers to access writers and vice versa. So that’s why I have unleashed a tidal wave of material on you, including these all-new, all-original essays about life in the medical lane.

As for the haters…I once met a guy in Montreal whose T-shirt said, “I Heart Haters.” I pointed at it and said, “Why would you do that?”

He smiled. “Because if I hated them, I would be just like them.”

Whoa. I don’t know if I can go there yet. But in the meantime, I can at least unplug. And you can come with me.

Available on the Kindle and Kobo, iPad, Nook and all other popular devices.

The Notorious Doctor Is in the House

melissayuaninnes — Tue, 06 Sep 2011 00:53:12 +0000

Notorious D.O.C.

Eight years ago, someone ran over a young doctor who asked too many questions. Today, at the still-grieving mother’s request, resident doctor Hope Sze untangles the cold case before the killer silences Hope, too.

This time, the sociopath won’t back down. But neither will Hope–or the two men vying for her attention.

Hope deserves a rest after solving a murder last month. Unfortunately, the sociopath wants to make sure the now-notorious “detective doctor” rests in a shallow grave.

The sequel to Code Blues. Written by an emergency physician trained in the crumbling corridors of Montreal.

Available on the Kindle & Smashwords

She’s making a List & checking it thrice.

melissayuaninnes — Thu, 25 Aug 2011 10:44:31 +0000

Oona Mak’s done the smart thing all her life. As an English teacher, she helps high school kids figure out life and literature. She married a kinder, gentler engineer in a perfect wedding.

Except now her husband wants to schtup someone else and Oona could

a) Divorce him, teach summer school and cry in her friends’ iced tea. (Naaaaah. Except for the divorce.)

b) Try to work things out with her husband and turn her grief into something socially acceptable like buying Moroccan lamps and bleaching her teeth. (You’re joking, right?)

c) Run through her List. Bingo.

Don’t we all have a List? The first guy you really loved, the guy who got away, the guy you never paid attention to in high school until he morphed into a McDreamy-McSteamy combo and now you’d give him a second chance?

The List of all the guys you coulda-woulda-shoulda.

Now Oona can. She will. And she should.

The List.

Because a few good men are the best revenge.

On Kindle & Smashwords

Behind “Code Blues,” with Melissa Yi

melissayuaninnes — Fri, 19 Aug 2011 05:54:45 +0000

Available at Kindle & Smashwords

In Melissa Yi’s debut medical thriller, Code Blues, Dr. Hope Sze tries to resuscitate a doctor who died in the men’s locker room of a Montreal hospital. Then she uncovers his killer with the help of not one, but two, delectable men. Yi, who is a real-life emergency doctor, offers an exclusive interview about her novel.

Why did you write about Hope Sze, a medical resident who turns into an amateur detective?

I think it’s a matter of “write what you know,” since I had just finished my emergency medicine training, plus I like mysteries and romance.

I woke up with the idea of writing a series about a resident doctor named Hope, starting with Cross My Heart, where she solves a mystery but romance is key. In Hope to Die, she would receive death threats. I changed the titles, but the ideas stayed. Of course, I thought the third would be called Stick a Needle and be set on surgery and the fourth, In My Eye, would be on ophthalmology, but I’ve only written the first two.

Some people think it’s not realistic that Hope would agree to solve crimes.

I don’t know. If I found someone I knew who had died under mysterious circumstances, I might investigate it. Doctors tend to take charge and I’m nosy. It doesn’t mean I’d be any good at it! But I tried to write it as realistically as possible while still keeping it a good story.

What about Alex Dyck and John Tucker, the two men vying for her attention? Is that realistic too?

It could happen, but I made them up. Unfortunately. Or maybe not unfortunately, as you can see in the book.

You didn’t have two guys fighting over you?

I wish! Actually, I’m one of those annoying people who found the right guy almost immediately. I married my high school sweetheart during medical school.

So you’re not into bad boys?

I’m into self-preservation. But it doesn’t hurt to imagine how the other half lives.

What about the medicine?

That part’s all true. I was actually cringing during the edits, remembering what it was like, having to explain to patients’ families on the internal medicine ward and on pediatrics that they had to bring their own diapers (BYOD. Much less fun than BYOB), or running up the stairs and finding plaster that had crumbled off the wall on the stairs. A nephrologist told me that their weight scales were broken, but no one would pay to fix them, so they just had to guess how much to dialyze their patients. A neurologist told us he needed heating packs when testing patients’ nerve function, or else the test wasn’t accurate, but no one would pay for those, either.

Is the Canadian medical system that bad?

No, parts of it are excellent! Seriously, Quebec is in a crisis. Like Hope, I came to Montreal from Ontario (a neighbouring province) after doing medical school at the University of Western Ontario and I was shocked at the difference. Like, on one floor, the nurses didn’t do electrocardiograms or draw blood, so if a patient had chest pain, I was supposed to do everything–and run all the other patients at the same time, all night. Sadly, the Ontario system has now deteriorated as well, but there are so many good doctors, nurses and administrators fighting the good fight to give patients the care they deserve.

Isn’t this an argument against socialized medicine?

No, it’s an argument against medicine that’s poorly executed, which can happen anywhere, whether it’s for profit or non-profit. A one-tier system, where government pays the bills instead of multiple insurance companies, saves about 10 percent of costs right off the top. And in general, it doesn’t make sense to me to have companies making a profit from ordering scans or offering surgeries you don’t need. I’d rather have healthy people who only come in to emerg when they really need it.

I’m in favour of medical care for everyone. I think it should be accessible to all, just like clean water, unpolluted air, and a proper education.

You wrote “favour” and “neighbour”. Your spelling is…

Not American. I know. Canadian spelling incorporates British and American spelling, which means I’ve made up my own hybrid. My copy editor made changes, but I changed them back. To me, anaesthetist just looks cooler than anesthetist. More learned, somehow. Yet anaestheologist seems stuffy to me. Strange, I know.

Why do you use a pseudonym?

Well, my real name is Melissa Yuan-Innes. Try saying that three times fast. For the record, I pronounce “Yuan” like “It’s just YOU ‘n’ me, kid.” I have now worked for years with nurses and unit coordinators who mispronounce it or who say, “I know how to pronounce it. It’s Dr. Melissa.”

I started publishing under my real name, mostly fantasy and science fiction and medical humour, but for mystery/thrillers, I decided to go with Yi, pronounced Yee. It’s snappier. It also helps people distinguish between genres. My kids books will be under Melissa Yuan and romance will be Melissa Yin.

Thank you for explaining. So what are you working on now?

The sequel to CODE BLUES, NOTORIOUS D.O.C., debuts September 3rd. Hope decides to help a grieving mother investigate a hit-and-run accident from eight years ago. And the love triangle continues. I remember Sting once said that if it’s just “I love you, you love me,” that’s boring, but once you bring in a third party, it becomes interesting. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

But I hope to release novels in all my genres before my maternity leave ends in October. Thanks for reading!

Thanks for stopping by!

Code Blues is available on Kindle and Smashwords.

Notorious D.O.C. continues Hope Sze’s adventures September 3rd, 2011.

Melissa Yuan-Innes is also the author of the radio medical drama No Air (on Smashwords andKindle) and a collection of medical humour called The Most Unfeeling Doctor in the World and Other True Tales From the Emergency Room (on Smashwords & Kindle, under the name Melissa Yuan-Innes). She welcomes visitors at www.melissayuaninnes.net.

The Most Unfeeling Doctor in the World and Other True Tales From the Emergency Room

melissayuaninnes — Thu, 07 Jul 2011 20:08:01 +0000

When I mention that I work in an emergency room, people usually say,
1. Are you a nurse? (No.)
2. Wow. That must be really hard. (Sometimes.)
3. What’s it like?

This is what it’s like to run the ER.

That teenager puking up two liters of vodka and his stomach lining at triage? Yup. Blood pouring out of a terrified pregnant woman? Call me. And, of course, the patient who no longer has a nosebleed screaming at me across the department, “You. Are. The Most. Unfeeling doctor. I have ever met!”

The thing is, though, mostly people come to the emerg because they’ve got a sore throat or potentially broken arm. So this is a book about the lighter side of the ER. Less Grey’s Anatomy, more Nurse Jackie, minus the drug addiction.

Let me peel back the curtain for you. It’s not an iron curtain. In the emerg, it’s most likely a crummy fabric curtain that too many other people have sneezed on.

Come on in.

Available for $2.99 from Smashwords & Kindle

Olo Books

melissayuaninnes — Mon, 10 Jan 2011 05:08:40 +0000

Olo means “surfboard of chiefs and kings” in Hawaiian. It also happens to be the name of the Best Dog who Ever Lived (TM).

Olo made us laugh. He made us think. He made us care about the world, and yes, sometimes he made us angry, too. But mostly, he just rocked. Like his book line.

The motto of Olo Books is “Good stories, please.”

We don’t care so much about genre or convention, which means we’ll publish whatever we love. It might be anything from a sweet fantasy about a talking bookstore to a dark tale of Catholic school girls turned vampires to a hard-hitting noir story about a Mohawk man in trouble. It might be autobiographical medical humor. It might be a poem about werewolves.

On the upside, if you have eclectic taste, we promise to do our best not to bore you. On the downside, please use your judgement about what’s appropriate for yourself or your children.

Thanks and please keep checking back as we increase our inventory. Namaste!