Just Another 2012 Year In Review

Hello, Readers. Yes, Virginia, The Wordsmith does exist. It’s been a bit since I’ve written a blog post. I promise I’ve been working tirelessly on my novel the whole time. Really. I’m nearly almost halfway kind of completely close to being finished the first draft. My friend also recently invited me to join her writing group, for which I am glad. Because how is my novel going to become a best seller if experienced readers and writers don’t give me their input?

To all my bloggy friends, I have a backlog of your blogs to read. I swear I’m not ignoring them. Although, I might not get to everyone’s posts before the release of “Memos From Your Closet Monster 2.”
(If you haven’t read the original, give it a read. Also, I have no idea if there will be a sequel. Maybe. . . ??)

Anyhoo, since it’s nigh the end of 2012, and we’ve all apparently survived the apocalypse, I’ve decided to comprise yet another year in review.

Team AJ

Number 1: Cancer – If you’re just tuning in, you can catch up here. It looks like we might be almost closely completely finished most of RB’s treatment for now. No idea of when he’ll be discharged. It’s been a long ten months. Everyday is another battle. But, we started out 2012 with a sick child and no idea of what was causing his illness. We found out, and although it was a devastating diagnosis, RB’s been making it look like a cake walk, and for that I am very thankful. He’s recovered more than the doctors said he would, and he continues to improve all the time. That kid’s my hero.

RB Christmas 2011. Before we knew the alien was lurking in his brain.
RB Christmas 2011. Before we knew the alien was lurking in his brain.

Number 2: Related to number one. I was reminded of the kindness within my fellow humans at a time when I was certain there was no compassion left in the universe. People gave donations, time, and labor to help our family. My employer has been unbelievably considerate and understanding during this difficult time. My coworkers organized a fundraiser, as did my cousins-on both sides of the family. My mom’s coworkers organized a carwash at their store, and the Down South Rollers held a carshow benefit for RB. So many people went far beyond anything we’d ever expected, and there are probably folks I am forgetting. I sincerely apologize for that, but it only proves how many people were involved in assisting us that I can’t remember them all without a detailed list.

My friend Shannon helped organize a local Chili's Benefit for RB.
My friend Shannon helped organize a local Chili’s Benefit for RB.
Down South Rollers benefit poster
Down South Rollers benefit poster
Down South Rollers
Down South Rollers
Poster for my the carwash held at my mom's work
Poster for the carwash held at my mom’s work
Team AJ Carwash
Team AJ Carwash
Just some of my friends and coworkers who organized a softball tournament for RB. I won't give away which one is me.
Just some of my friends and coworkers who organized a softball tournament for RB. I won’t give away which one is me.
Team AJ softball tournament. Respect the 'stache.
Team AJ softball tournament. Respect the ‘stache.
A toybox for RB made by my uncle. It's gorgeous. He's very good!
A toybox for RB made by my uncle. It’s gorgeous. He’s very good!
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Carwash my cousin held to benefit Team AJ (aka Robot Boy)

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(I’m still missing some photos from one event held at Zaddie’s Tavern for RB by cousins. If any one of you have some of theses photos, please pass them along. Thank you!)

Me and Observations from an Overworked Momma back in the dizzle, yo.
Me and Observations from an Overworked Momma back in the dizzle, yo.

My very selfless friend at Observations from an Overworked Momma organized an online auction for RB. She even went so far as to acquire several children’s books, signed by author Cornell Landry even. She, along with some of our other friends, visited RB at the hospital for Christmas and brought us gifts and care packages. I love these guys, y’all.

Signed by Mr. Cornell Landry
Signed by Mr. Cornell Landry
Another of Cornell Landry's books, given to us by CHNOLA's Childlife Dept.
Another of Cornell Landry’s books, given to us by CHNOLA’s Childlife Dept.

My friend about whom I’ve previously written The Otherwordly Goddess of Script got me a giftcard to Walgreens. Those of you who have been following my blog long enough know the significance of this!

I’ve made friends since RB’s admission to CHNOLA, too. We are blessed with family and friends who are always willing to help out and support us, and without these people, I wouldn’t be able to function.

Number 3: Also related to numbers one and two. Through my blog, and because of our shared hope in finding a cure, I’ve met several wonderfully inspiring people who have helped me remain positive more than they probably know. Their optimism has helped me remember that I should stay hopeful even in the face of adversity. Kudos to you The Monster in Your Closet , Pinwheels and Poppies, and The Lucky Mom. (Sorry if I left anyone out. I love you all!)

Sept Childhood Cancer

Number 4: Reading Donna’s Cancer Story and realizing there is life after cancer. Thank you for sharing your story with us Mary Tyler Mom .

FTIAT Series image via The Monster in Your Closet
FTIAT Series image via The Monster in Your Closet

Number 5: Being included in The Monster in Your Closet’s FTIAT series. Writing my entry and reading the others has helped me, again, realize although times are hard, there is always something for which to be thankful. Plus, it’s a big deal to a writer who was only published one other time this year (and rejected many times). Oh, you missed it? Well, go on and read away at The Foliate Oak Literary Journal. (Deb, I’m adding your thing on future submission letters, by the way. Just to let you know. ;})

Number 6: In fiction, there is a point where the protagonist has a major change. It’s near the climax of the story, usually. Either there is a physical battle or an emotional one; it transfigures the protagonist. Somehow, after Hurricane Katrina, I felt the change a little. I was touched by the kindness we received, but was also tarnished by the derision to which we were subjected. Things are different now, and this is my battle. I know there’s been a metamorphosis, an evolution. The snide cynic in me still exists, but she is muted by the newly emerged optimist, the person who will still fight for what’s right but is more understanding and compassionate. In the words of Jules Winnfield (Samuel L. Jackson) via Pulp Fiction, “I’m trying real hard to be the shepherd.”

Image courtesy of [image creator name] / FreeDigitalPhotos.net
Image courtesy of farconville / FreeDigitalPhotos.net
 

Number 7: Fibromyalgia. Yep. I was diagnosed on the 29th of November. Because why the not at this point, right? At any rate, I’ve been taking my meds like a good little girl, eating right, exercising, and treating my body a lot better. I cut caffeine almost out completely, and I quit drinking. My doctor also decided I have depression and anxiety (can’t imagine why), and since starting my medicine and resuming my daily yoga and meditation, I’ve been feeling much better. I still feel like the Tin Man when I wake up in the morning, but after forcing myself to stretch and move my stiff muscles, I start to feel much more productive. My fatigue is somewhat better, but somedays are still rough. I will see my doctor again for a follow up in January, and I’m hopeful he will be able to help me with my unresolved issues. Fibromyalgia is the perfect example of irony, because it causes stiffness and pain that makes the patient want to be still, but the pain and stiffness is only relieved by moving around. Universe. You’ve one upped me again. But, don’t worry. You’re not putting me down that easily. “So I’ll do as I please like the well-tempered breeze, blowin’ which way I see fit. I’ll grey with the clay seven days till the day when they throw me on the potter’s scrap heap. But take my advice; you’ll have to bury me twice, ’cause the first time I won’t rest easily. But don’t let me die still wondering what it was I left behind.” “Don’t Let Me Die Still Wondering” Flogging Molly

Number 8: I don’t know how many of these I should have, so I’ll just add another one. SPOILER ALERT! If you haven’t read the 700th and final issue of the Amazing Spider-Man, don’t read this part. Peter Parker dies in an epic battle with Doc Oc; they somehow switch bodies, and Peter Parker dies in Otto’s body. Doc Oc takes over Peter’s body and receives all of his memories, thoughts, and feelings of responsibility-supposedly. He becomes the Superior Spider-Man. WHATEVER! RIP ASM. You’ve been part of my life for many, many years. I won’t forget you, PP. “With great power comes great responsibility.”

Robot Dad and I with Spidey at Universal Studios Orlando.
Robot Dad and I with Spidey at Universal Studios Orlando.
Me (yes me) Halloween circa 2002 in my black symbiote costume made by a friend much craftier than I. The frog is Rupert.
Me (yes me) Halloween circa 2002 in my black symbiote costume made by a friend much craftier than I. The frog is Rupert.

Number 9: I lost 5 pounds.

Number 10: I wrote a blog post! Finally!

Auld lang syne, and all that, folks! May you all have a wonderful 2013 filled with health, happiness, and good fortune.

“It Finally Happened!”

I don’t remember a lot from the past. In the last couple of years I’ve developed this frustrating memory problem that’s hindered my recognition. But there are some things which I can recall in vivid detail.

One of those things is sitting in my childhood friends’ living room and watching this video, as mere adolescents emulating the silliness our favorite band’s members were exhibiting. Yes, we were Queen fans even then. This single was released in March 1991. I was eleven.

It was no wonder why it appealed to us then, what with Freddie Mercury’s Mad Hatter attire, John Deacon’s jester’s hat, Roger Taylor with a functioning tea kettle on his head, and Brian May’s enormous beak and penguinesque tuxedo. And, don’t forget the actual penguins.

The making of “I’m Going Slightly Mad” video-Queen

For sure at the time it was funny and cute to us, and we were enthralled by the song as much as the video.

But Freddie passed away later that same year, and it wasn’t until some years later that I was able to understand and appreciate an undertone in this video of which I was before unaware. Freddie’s heavy makeup and the video’s being shot in black in white concealed how ill he really was. As I got older and my appreciation for these artists grew, I learned that Innuendo, off which this song was released as a single, was Queen’s last studio album during Freddie’s life, having been released only ten months prior to his death.

Now back to the video, a little back story about myself, and why this seemingly silly nonsense is so important to me. As I’ve mentioned, I recall seeing this video with the two best friends I had growing up. We lived across the street, and we knew each other as far back as we can remember. They are twins, and I was a single child. But I didn’t long for companionship because we were always together. Except when we were in school and those annoying times when our parents forced us to go inside for sleep.

The Girls

We played outside until it got dark, and sometimes even after that as long as we were in the front or back yard. I had a turntable and a bunch of my parents’ old records and I’d record them to a tape (Shh! Don’t tell. We didn’t know it was piracy back then.) I had a portable cassette player, and we’d listen to music and run around outside until our parents felt we were calm enough to re-enter the house.

Anyway, we listened to a lot of classic rock (still do), and Queen was on the playlist a lot. We had a plush toy named Freddie Flamingo, and he loved to dance to “Don’t Stop Me Now.” I even had the original vinyl Jazz album with all the naked ladies on the inside jacket, most of whom were not fat bottomed, by the way.

One memory I have is of me and my friend, my very dear friend, running amok in my back yard and listening to “You’re My Best Friend.” My friend stopped running-we were literally running-and said, “Donnell, you’re my best friend.” I thanked her and said she was mine, too, and we got back to the business at hand. There’s a reason whenever I listen to A Night at the Opera I skip this song. Even though I still cry all the way through “’39.”

In our early twenties, my dear friend, my best friend, passed away. Her life had gone in a different direction than mine, and I’d watched her become someone I didn’t know. But she’d rediscovered herself, and we were finally getting reacquainted. I spoke to her on either a Sunday or Monday. As I’ve said, my memory is not what it once was. I was visiting my mom, and I asked her to come over. She declined because she didn’t want to leave her grandmother, who was ill. Later that week, my friend went to sleep and suffered a grand mal seizure. If ever death was a thief in the night, it was that night.

“Whenever this world is cruel to me/I got you to help me forgive.” – “You’re My Best Friend” John Deacon, Queen

I want to show you all more photos of my friends, of us together, but in 2005 Hurricane Katrina obliterated my home town. She took my home and with it all the photos and memories I had of my dear friend. The only ones I have now were sent to me by others who were able to salvage their own photos.

The aforementioned is only one part of why this video and Queen’s music in general is so special to me. A big part. But only a part.

I wrote about Innuendo being released only months before Freddie’s passing, and this video being made when he was quite ill. His health was declining, yet he continued to work and create amazing music alongside his band mates.

What I like most, though, is how happy Freddie looks in this video. He looks like he’s having a lot of fun. I find it such an inspiring attribute, being so joyous and knowing he was terminal. It’s something I hang on to in this time of my life, facing the worst challenge ever and knowing it very well might end tragically. I find inspiration in Freddie’s ability to laugh during that time of his life, the months leading up to the end of his life.

However, “I’m Going Slightly Mad” isn’t the only song on Innuendo I find uplifting. There are several, but one that I find more so than others is the song “Don’t Try So Hard.” This song is profound to me-thinking of Freddie writing it at the end of his life, and knowing it. I find comfort in the lyrics, almost the kind you feel receiving guidance from an elder. Someone who’s been down a road on which you hope to embark, artistically I mean. Except that I’m no musician. The song is one I go to when I feel like I’m running on a treadmill of rejection and literary atrophy. It also helps me focus on what is important, even when I feel
overwhelmed. I’d like to share the lyrics now.

“Don’t Try So Hard” Written by Freddie Mercury and Queen from the Innuendo album released in 1991. Lyrics c/o Sing365.com

Of course reading it is not the same as hearing it, which you can do this way QueenOnline.com or by visiting iTunes or any other place, like an actual record store-if they actually exist anymore. I wouldn’t know because the internet enables me to foster my borderline agoraphobia.

Speaking of using the internet, why not take a click on over to The Mercury Phoenix Trust where you can purchase cool merchandise or donate to help the fight against AIDS worldwide. I’m thinking of our next Freddie for a Day activity. This was last year’s.

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Doodles

Hospital Stay

I’m fairly certain the least safe place to shower is in a hospital bathroom.

Monday we revisited the pediatrician for a follow-up on my son’s recent chronic bronchitis. It’s gotten no better with at home treatments, so we’ve been admitted to the hospital for more aggressive treatments which include beating my son’s torso, feeding a tube up his nose to extract mucus, and strapping a vibrating vest on him. That’s aside from the myriad of medications he’s given. I keep thinking he is improving, although he could be brewing espresso as he lies in my lap right now.

My son’s never been a sick child. For the first eighteen months of his life, he rarely even suffered a runny nose. Then he started daycare. I can only imagine the germ breeding that occurs there. Every toy is its own petri dish. I don’t blame the daycare staff. I’ve seen them clean the place. It’s just impossible to prevent the passing of bacteria and viruses between two dozen tiny imps who care more about eating mud pies than proper hand washing.

The pediatrician assures us sickness now will ensure a good immunity to illnesses when he enters preschool, but it’s little consolation while we administer three futile breathing treatments a day, and I’m almost certain he will develop an addiction to Children’s Mucinex.

Compounding the problem of finding sufficient treatment for the bronchitis is the fact that my son has an allergy to Augmentin, a strong antibiotic which cleared his lungs but covered him in hives. No other antibiotic worked as well. Our pediatrician also advised a penicillin allergy now does not mean he will have it later in life, a fact about which I am glad.

Being in the hospital with a toddler is difficult on all parties involved, especially since neither child or parent is allowed to rest longer than thirty minutes at a time. I’m pretty sure that’s the time limit on sleep in most hospitals because every half hour, a nurse, respiratory tech, or other hospital employee enters the room. Sometimes alone, sometimes all at once. I was woken up twice today by food services so I could choose specific menu items, which is all well except “not hospital food” wasn’t an option.

After two days of my getting no sleep or a shower, my husband came to take over, and I was able to sleep and cleanse myself. There are rails on either side of the toilet, presumably for safety, however I doubt it. I nearly tripped over the damn things five times while attempting to undress and get in the shower. The shower itself goes from -32 degrees to 190 degrees with just a slight touch of the knob. There’s no vent because why would there be? And no rug on the slick tile floor. I believe the hospitality department also failed to realize that parents staying with their little patients will have to shower, as all of the towels were miniscule and were mere hand towels on my huge body.

Having survived the shower, I stepped out to towel off and realized the nurses were administering a treatment to my son while my clothes laid on the bed. I considered just going into the room nude, as I was armed with hardly a hand towel – assuming the nurses, as medical professionals, have seen worse. But I decided all would fair better if I waited for them to leave. Which I did while listening to my son vibrating and calling, “Mo-o-o-ooommy!”

The doctor visited earlier and said we’re looking at another twenty-four hours of treatment. We’re hoping for a less adventurous tomorrow.