Hard to Press into Pretty Words…

Stumbled across a microphone. Thought it might be easier to riff rather than write about everything going on. Talking. No self edit. No deleting of sentences. No stopping and pausing. Just talk. It’s hard to press into pretty words right now one of the most horrifying times in my life. Soon….

That Ever Dreadful Maybe

This won’t be a long post. I haven’t been very wordy lately. I’ve been very quiet….

A few Tuesdays ago I went to my dentist for what I thought was an abscessed tooth. A huge swelling developed on my neck, under my jaw. Upon inspection, she said it was not a tooth problem and demanded that I go to the emergency room. She even had one of her staff tell Kara (my ride) not to take me home, but to the ER.

Five hours later and a few CT scans and viles of blood drawn, the ER doctor was concerned that it was cancer. She saw the mass under my jaw, saw nodes not only there, but on the top of my lungs. She wanted to admit me then and there and begin biopsies and more CT scans.

I freaked out. FREAKED out. Began to vomit, nearly passed out. I told her no. Not at all. Want I wanted to do was go home, pray, and call my mom. The ER doctor said that without insurance (which I didn’t have), it was going to be very difficult to get a primary care doctor, then the head and neck specialist, then the lung specialist, then the oncologist…..

Too much at once, went home and did what I had thought would ease me: I prayed, then called my mom.

I kept getting roadblocks. The Centra Care in my neighborhood is virtually gone. The ER is expensive, getting a ride to another urgent care is difficult, primary care doctors weren’t taking new patients for WEEKS and this and that and this and that and then suddenly it all started coming into play. Everything started working out.

Within a few days of that very scary Tuesday I managed to get private insurance. Mercy, that’s expensive. It’s ok. I’ll start selling more teddy bears and write another REALLY good book. We’ll figure that out later.

God, had something else in mind, a different path that would work beautifully for me. A new doctor is only a few blocks away, and just feet from where Phillip works, and is in my network. They took my appointment the following day.

Phillip went with me, of course. And the moment we walked in I made a bee line for the receptionist. She greeted me kindly, handed me some papers and asked me to have a seat. Turning around, Phillip and I noticed that there were five older men in the waiting room. Rainbow flags everywhere. I just giggled and whispered to Phillip, “This is a doctor for old gay men….HALLELUJAH!”

The doctor was wonderfully kind, very humorous when needed, blunt and honest and calm when it was required. He was concerned about the nodes and wanted me to have more tests. The poo tests, the blood tests, more CT scans on my lungs and a few more angles of x-rays. He basically said he was going to treat the swelling on my neck as an infection with more antibiotics for a longer period….while looking for lung cancer.

I hate going into my portal to fill out paperwork because it doesn’t just say, “CT SCAN.” No, it says, “CT SCREEN FOR LUNG CANCER.” It triggers you a little. They haven’t said yes, they haven’t said no. They’ve only said that ever dreadful maybe.

He also wanted me to quit smoking as soon as possible, gave me resources. He wanted me to pursue my medical marijuana card because of my agoraphobia and anxiety, and to help build weight. “But, no smoking! Do edibles.” He also wants all of my teeth taken out as soon as possible.

(Side note. When he was examining me, he noticed the rosary around my neck. “Were you raised Catholic?” No, I responded. “Is this just a Madonna thing,” he asked? I replied, “I have a fondness for the Blessed Mother.” Phillip piped from the corner, “He has a statue of her in the back yard. He’s very religious.” The doctor said with a smile, “I’m going to share that in the notes on your file!”)

Well, next day I was Johnny on the spot, filling out paperwork, making appointments, scanning my documents, uploading my orders from the doctor. And I have to tell you, it felt therapeutic. All of the paperwork was being received and accepted in its rightful manner, appointments were being booked with quick ease. I began to feel like I was more in control of the situation.

I called George (our very own Mr. Magoo if you haven’t been following this blog!) for a ride. Ha! You have to love again how God sweeps in and makes things so easy. George has to have his CT screenings for lung cancer the same day, the same facility, our appointments within an hour of each other. Brilliant!

He was so fun when he said, “Oh, that’s my favorite place to get a CT scan. They share their parking lot with a Wendy’s!”

So, tomorrow George and I are going to get our chests scanned, hang out in a waiting room, then hit Wendy’s for a bowl of chili and a Frosty. 🙂

I’m in a better head place than I thought I’d be. I thought I would have flipped the *(bleeep) out by now. My doctor gave me instruction, gave me a ton of hope. I’ve been on antibiotics for nearly a week and have about five more days to go, but the swelling on my neck has shrunk. So, that’s a good sign!

So, I’m hoping I have your prayers that whatever they see tomorrow is just the debris of me having been me all these years. Oh! Forgot! I did go to tobaccofreeflorida.com and was able to get 200 pieces of Nicotine replacement gum for free. I got them yesterday! Today, I grabbed a bag full of Dum Dum lollipops. Going to get some licorice tea to sip on. Friday is my quit date. (All of my tests will be done by then. Things will be less stressful).

I guess my point is, rather than feeling frightened, or broken, or sad, I feel more empowered. What I find beautiful is that God has made this process so simple, so stress free, that I don’t have any fear, for I can hear Him say, “The more you fear, the further you are from me. You don’t want that. I’m here. There should be no fear.”

I’ll let you know what happens! Love you, too!

Gregory

I Miss You, Too

My mother suggested I should say something to you. And moms are often right.

“You can’t keep talking about your life and then suddenly stop. People will worry.”

SO! here goes! I have been struggling with essential tremors. It started about a year ago, worked it’s wild shakes only on occasion, but recently it really got bad, hence why you haven’t seen as my many blog posts, nor teddy bears for the last long while. It’s difficult, but not impossible to knit or write, it just….takes longer. There are some days when trying to drink a cup of tea is better done with a straw. Lifting the cup can result in quite a mess. But, other days are better. (Note to doctor: when laughing with friends, I don’t shake as much.)

Now, don’t get into a panic, because I certainly haven’t. It’s only life changing, not terminal. I actually don’t fear the diagnosis at all. ( was afraid it might be Parkinson’s). I’m just annoyed and aggravated that the shaking could prevent me from the things I love doing most….

And there you have it. That last sentence is very telling. Prevent me? From being creative? Are you kidding me? Pfff! I refuse to allow the shaking of my head, hands or voice prevent me from making beautiful things. That’s why you’ve seen so many illustrations. My hands sketching wildly while shaking actually looks rather nice. I can hide behind the shaking of my hands. I can turn a problem into something beautiful, full of striking color and movement. Ta da!

I’m doing physical therapy about 25 minutes a day. I like it. It’s fascinating. I actually force myself to shake, rather than the other way around. Apparently, we are trying to recharge the neurons in my brain, telling my brain to shake my hands and head, rather than my brain telling me.

Again, I have to stress, I am not worried about this. Just another one of those things that makes you discover through a hindrance just how capable you are. So, don’t be upset if you only see a teddy bear here or there, or if I only write a blog post now and then. I’m still here, doing fine…..making the most of my shaky scribble. I assure you something wonderful will come from this.

(And thank you for still being there for me. I miss you, too.)

An Afternoon in Paris

What a classic afternoon, what a great way to spend the day! It was gruesome, ghoulish, dark and dismal, rainy. And I was sitting and knitting, frowning.

My friend Kara came by for no other reason than to say hello. Don’t you love that? Old friends popping by to say, “Hi?” So, in she steps wearing the most amazing jacket. Kara has a particular style that is just so very her. She finds the most amazing clothes from all over the world….all in thrift stores.

I asked, “Where in the world did you find this?”

“A thrift store in Paris. No label.” There is always a little grin when she says that, or even when I hear it. Some artists work a piece without the pressure of couture….they do it for the experience. Who knows who made this gorgeous thing, but gorgeous it is and I was in awe.

It was a bit like tapestry, like the French version of that scene in “Gone With the Wind,” when Scarlet has her curtains turned into a dress. FANTASTIC! Some artist took what looks like a piece of carpet and turned it into the most stunning coat.

But, that wasn’t all….

“I also found this hat,” she said, “….that would fit a Gregory.”

I laughed. “Fit a Gregory?”

“Well, I know you have the tiniest pea sized head and thought this might fit you.” She grinned, handing it to me.

I’ll be damned, it did fit. And it felt….swank. Away with the ballcap for a minute and try this on. You may laugh, but I felt handsome. I giggled as I saw myself in the mirror. I felt handsome….again. The older you get the less attractive you tend to feel….or at least I do. And for one afternoon with a hat on, found in a thrift store in Paris, I felt striking.

You know I’m agoraphobic, so I don’t go out much, or at all. There is no reason to look fashionable, no reason to doll myself up and present myself, as one would say. But, when I put that hat on, things changed when I saw myself in the mirror. I’m much better looking than I think I am. You can call out my flaws, and I’m fully aware of them, but…it was so nice to reconcile with myself in the mirror and appreciate what I saw.

Kara said, “It looks good on you. You may not wear it every day, but when you do, you’ll look great.”

Then after that it was the common sort of afternoon you would expect. Two old friends in Orlando eating French bread with butter and lettuce, a few sips of wine, while Edith Piaf sings in the background…wearing vintage clothes from a thrift store in Paris.

I truly do have a great life 🙂

I Know That Story

I have been wrecked in the head trying to write this new book. I knew the plot, I knew the story….or so I thought. I wanted to have a child clutching to a purple bear for safety. But, why purple? While clutching the teddy bear she could hide the bruises from abuse.

I gave the idea to Phillip, Kara, George…..(cringes all around). They all suggested that it was too heavy, too horrible a subject for the softness of a children’s book about a teddy bear. Phillip suggested that the reason she wanted a purple bear was to help camouflage a birth mark on her face.

Wasn’t a bad idea, really. So, I sat here trying to write a story about something I knew nothing about. I paced, I washed dishes, I got cranky and screamed at the cats for meowing. Nothing worked. Words weren’t coming to me. The whole plot line was so precious, but the Universe wouldn’t inspire, muses wouldn’t court me. I guess I could dust the blinds while I wait for something to make me want to pen a story I knew nothing about. How horrid it would be just to script out crap for the sake of literary motion.

A little girl with a birth mark wants a purple teddy bear to hide it….

No.

I had no choice but to sit down and tell the truth to myself, in my own artistic way, tell the truth, tell a story that I’m familiar with. This book should be about child abuse. And it isn’t about a girl, but a boy….

Yes. That is the story I know. A young boy being physically abused…and hiding his pain behind the soft strength of a plush teddy bear….

And now this old man is peering into the heart of his childhood, still clutching a plushy.

I’m now pages and pages into writing a beautiful tale about something painful….because I know that story, and I feel much better about that because I know that it has a happy ending.

Haven’t

For some reason, when loneliness hits, I forget that I can come here to open up, speak, talk forward rather than inward. I forget sometimes that all of you are out there.

I forget that I can speak freely to friends, even if they’re not in the room, nor even on the phone. I can come to this space and….well, simply talk.

I’ve done that since the beginning of this blog. It’s been about ten years now. I was alone in the woods. I needed to talk to somebody, so I came here to yell about my life, or to whisper quietly about it.

Because of that I have a good ten years of recorded work, written in either jubilee or desperation.

I’m fortunate enough (as most journalist, diarists, and memoirists are) to reach back and read what happened to my life this last year.

I can safely say, this was a wonderful year for me, a blessed year. I think it refreshing that I can look back at this year and say there were no dramas, no controversies. Reading the accounts of my events over the last year were interesting to see. New windows at Honeychurch. A stronger bond with my husband. I learned I had other talents.  Rather than ramping myself up with ambition, I decided to slow down and get quiet towards the end of the year. I wanted more time to myself. Not everything needs to be broadcast. Not everything in life needs to be documented. The only thing required is that those moments be enjoyed in their simplest of fashions: the smile. It makes you happy. Let it be that alone and not some recorded thing that needs to go viral.

I had a friend tell me recently that I hadn’t been writing enough, if for no other reason than the talents I have will go dormant if not practiced, honed, and found. I had to agree. I haven’t written very much in a long time, haven’t knit very much, haven’t embroidered, haven’t….

To be fair, I made a few teddy bears this last Christmas, but had to revert back to my written pattern because I had forgotten how to make one, just off the top of my head.

And I guess the true reason is that I was really falling in love with making Honeychurch a real home. So, I spent the year dusting, painting, decorating, shopping (heaven forbid). My drawings were put in frames, carpets and curtains were bought. Dinner was cooked, rather than ordered. Ice cream in the evenings while Phillip and I watched TV after a long day. Hot coco when it was cold, lemon ices when it was hot.

That is what I leaned towards last year….building a home. Talents aside, capabilities excluded, there is no way I’m going to do anything of creative, artistic, emotional, nor even spiritual purpose if I don’t have a solid space to call home, that one place of safety where all will be resolved once you pass the threshold and smell pot roast and baked bread in the air, where your friends ask to stop by often because it feels warmer in spirit than where they live. And everyone is always welcome. Conversations abound, laughter circles around the room beneath the ceiling fan, and crickets outside cackle at our fun. And as I sit back and take notice of the scene, I remember these are friends that have been with me for decades….now, all of them having a great time in my home. All of us together.

Now that this has been done, it’s time to move on, time to tend to myself, to my own creative pursuits. I get terribly excited about new things. I now get to see what happens to me now that I’m free to truly do whatever it is I want to explore with my talents, with whatever imaginative thought comes along. Because I have a home filled with friends.

Babysitting A Buddha Head

My friend Kara has been running around town with a giant Buddha head as her side kick. She drives a little mini cooper, only a two seater. So she and this enormous thing have become pals to some degree. She swirls around town with a big Buddha head in her passenger seat.

(I have an eclectic, if not eccentric group of friends).

Well, Kara agreed to give me a ride somewhere and there was no place for me, because of giant said Buddha head, but neither of us had the strength to remove it. It’s apparently made of wood and plaster. I asked quite quickly, “Girl, you live on the third floor with no elevator. How are you going to get this up to your apartment?”

“I haven’t quite figured that out yet,” she said with a giggle.

“How did you get it in your car to begin with?”

“Some really nice guys at the store were kind enough to help.”

I scratched and pulled at my goatee. “Well, where are they now? How do we get it out now?”

Suddenly there was my husband, Phillip. My giant, my dragon slayer, my shield of armor piping up just over my shoulder. “Let me take a look.”

His 6 foot 4 inch body bows down to the passenger seat. His 270 pound frame struggles to move inside just to even reach for it. But, with ease he pulled out the big Buddha head, tossed it over his shoulder and made way for our front door. “Doesn’t weigh more than a keg,” he said.

Kara and I looked at each other feeling….puny.

Once it was inside, it was tucked into a corner where we all seemed to sit back and reflect.

I said, “If Phillip is able to pick it up so easily, maybe he can take it up the stairs to your apartment.”

There was this beautiful glare she gave, not to me, but to the Buddha head and said, “I’ll wait….it looks good there. Can you keep it for me until I figure out what to do?”

“Are you kidding me? It’s fantastic. Look at that….”

So, we’re baby sitting a Buddha head for the moment. I rather like it. I’ll keep it indefinitely if she’ll let us. It seems to fit in our little space called Honeychurch.

You know life is going rather well when you’re asked to babysit a Buddha head. 🙂

The Mad Dash Past Christmas

I won’t lie. There is a huge part of me that wants to make a mad dash past Christmas. I think a lot of people feel like that. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying I don’t want Christmas to happen, I’m just waiting to move on from this year. I spent the first half of it absorbed with ambition….then suddenly, went quiet, and spent the second half of the year in solitude….as I guess I’m supposed to do, being all monkish and everything.

If you were to look at my collection of books, you’d perceive me as some kind of overly ambitious Buddhist. Books on religion and books on business, side by side, cozied up on the same shelf. How mad. 🙂 Care of the Soul sitting right next to Barbarians at the Gate.

And to be fair, books were all I wanted for Christmas this year. Well, those and a German dish rack. (Don’t ask me why, but I remember when we had one when I was a young man living in Berlin and it was amazing!….not like I did a whole lot of dishes when I was a young man living in Berlin, but anyway!)

Something seems to be missing this year. Not sure what it is, but some Christmases are like that, when you think back. Some Christmases you just want to run past and get over. Other Christmases can’t get here soon enough. But, this one….Nothing bad, nothing tragic, nothing sad. Everything was too….rehearsed, I guess. This Christmas feels like “going through the motions.”

I’ve done my best. I’ve had coco with a splash of whiskey, solidly in my pajamas in the middle of a chilly night watching the silliest of Christmas movies. By the end of those movies who even needs coco? Just keep splashing the whiskey. There is no real magic this year, if you know what I mean.

We’ve let packages from amazon just hurdle under our tiny tree just to make sure we have something to open on Christmas day (because it was going to hurt someone’s feelings if we didn’t wait to enjoy all the merriment on THAT day…) And that’s about the time I get annoyed and scream, “Ok! One of these boxes has a bottle of bleach I ordered. Why are we waiting until the 25th to enjoy this???….And I need to clean the sheets, so which of these boxes has presents and which one has a gallon of bleach?”

A silly frustration, but there you have it.

I think Phillip and I got sucked into other people’s traditions, because those traditions mean so much to them. You know, a perfect Christmas morning in flannel, presents under the tree, a ham in the oven, lunch at noon….smiles, happiness, postcard worthy happiness. But, that isn’t who we are, it isn’t what we do. We sleep until noon on Christmas because Phillip is guaranteed that day off. And if he doesn’t have to get up, then neither do I. We usually open a lot of boxes and packages well before Christmas, because we have a lot of things delivered. And if we see a gift (like a set of books), we’ll know they’re a gift, sit them under the tree, know who they’re from, and wait until Christmas to enjoy reading those books. (I got a bunch of Miss Marples. Yay! Can’t wait to start reading, but I’ll wait until Christmas!)

Christmas Eve will be spent drinking Gluhwein and eating little smokies slow cooked and smothered in grape jelly. Our friends will probably pop by. Instead of playing Christmas movies all day, we have a playlist of some our favorite shows to we keep running on the TV while we play cribbage. Mr. Bean. Catherine Tate’s Nan. Mrs. Brown. Father Ted. The Vicar of Dibley. Absolutely Fabulous….

Christmas dinner is usually meatloaf, mashed potatoes, peas. I don’t make meatloaf often because it’s rather expensive, so it’s a nice treat for us. And by the end of Christmas Day, we will have found ourselves stuffed and sprawled splat on the sofa, laughing at a disaster film, and handing each other a gift before we doze off. And to be honest, of all that we’re blessed with, our gifts to each other are always the most wonderful. Phillip and I know each other, we read each other, we know exactly what to get each other….and if he get’s my gift wrong? Well, my birthday is in 2 weeks so he can try a do over 🙂

So, as Christmas gets closer, I feel this strange desire to rip everything open and start having fun instead of waiting. That’s our usual tradition! Have fun now! Let’s start with all of the chocolates in the advent calendars that we haven’t devoured! 🙂 Then I’m going to find that box with Clorox!