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 |  Thoughts and deeds taking me on my path toward insanity. |
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** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Please visit me for updates on the Myth to Life series as well as other writings, don't forget to leave a message in the guestbook, and join the site at: http://www.eairwin.webs.com I would love to hear from you! |
~ Quote of the Day ~ One of the advantages of being disorderly is that one is constantly making exciting discoveries. A. A. Milne Hey people; Well, I've begun tackling the chaos, hoping that as I micromanage my stuff by either organizing it or getting rid of it, that I can walk toward something else. This clutter has been hanging over my head for months, years maybe, although most of it has been out of sight in bins or closets. But I need the crap straightened or gone to clean some brain space so I can think about really tackling life on a big scale ... which might not sound very big to anyone else but will probably be mammoth to me because of the being trapped situation in my mind. Okay, this is priceless. I just turned on Oprah, who I rarely watch except if Dr. Oz is on, and they are doing a show on hoarders. How timely and appropriate. I don't consider myself a hoarder but I've collected things in my life, plus I was always doing crafts, needlework, crocheting, oil painting ... so I have a lot of stuff to work through. Egads, I think I'm going to need a 12-step program! Just the fact I'm sitting here writing this while worlds collide upstairs goes to the point of this situation not being entirely a willing exercise. The funny thing is I can organize other people's stuff like a pro. Yes, I know, you don't need to tell me about that problem. I'll be offline for a while due to me taking my computer to my nephew hopefully for the last time to get fixed. That was a bad sentence. Anyway, this will give me time away from my writing that will maybe give me some new perspective on some of my stuff as well as getting the chaos tamed so I can create something positive. This is a good thing and I'm embracing the work in exchange for some peace. I want next year not to be entangled with so much personal stuff and really work toward things that are less tangible. Ah, a quest! Hope all of you are doing well. I'll catch up in a few days. Hey maybe we can all turn this year around and head toward a great 2008 with a clutter-free brain. Ta and peace, P, pile organizer |
~ Quote of the Day ~ It's a two-fer day with the quote. "Being an author is like being in charge of your own personal insane asylum." ~Graycie Harmon "There's nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein." ~Walter Wellesley "Red" Smith Hello people; Hope all of you had a great holiday and are a tad more rested as you headed back to the hum-drum of work. Got to keep working to pay for the Internet connection and printer ink.  Since I've been in the midst of a little breakdown with my emotions  I've found it a bit difficult to keep at the business of writing. I really do write every day, not that much has made it anywhere at the moment. But I keep plugging away, hoping that the mere action of picking up the pen and applying it to lined paper will sustain the brain while it waits for inspiration.I've also gone back into my cache of stories and dug out the ones that are still stuck mid-stream or the flash pieces that were submitted to contests here where I can add back the hundred words or so that had to be cut. I found a few online sites that want flash fiction so I think I might submit a few. Who knows what's lurking in cyberspace waiting for 300-500 words of insanity from an unknown author. I will tell you though, I think all of you out there that write could write as good a story as what's being offered. Of course the disillusioned mental state I'm sometimes in could alter the reality of me being accepted and published.  I don't worry about the rest of you ... what are you waiting for? I also got out the latest piece from my Riley McCabe serial and started on it again because I miss all those characters and their alternate reality. I opened up the last story I'd written that just deals with Braedon Carlisle and picks up a few months after Riley's departure, and looked it over. I'm almost through with the edit there and a few rewritten bits and hope to have it posted in a week or so. While I was thinking about those two stories, I really thought about how I could incorporate what I already have written and put it in novel form instead of the three serialized portions. While thinking about those stories, I think I've found a way to extend my newest entry into Braedon's life - 'Dark Side of the Moon', and put all those characters into a story together so I can tie them all up with a nice cobalt-blue ribbon.  Sometimes I just love order, especially since I'm sitting amid total chaos around my desk.Also, when going through my short stories and the novels waiting to be edited, I thought, wow, I've got a lot of words and people interacting in all those stories. Considering I'm mute most of the time and the most unsparkling conversationalist I know, I find that aspect about my person mystifying since a good portion of all the works are dialogue. Although there is quite a bit of crazy dialogue in some of the stories which I find refreshing. I know, I'm just my own little cheering section today. Hey, I've even edited some poems and am trying to think of what to put together in case I want to submit a poetry collection somewhere. So many thoughts, so little brain. So I guess I'll get back to my writing since Nickleback's 'Silverside Up' CD just ended and I'm on to Evanescence's 'The Open Door', signifying I've been at the blog a bit too long. Since I write longhand because the computer steals my thoughts, and I have few thoughts left, it's best I get back to my pen on paper gig. Ta and peace, P |
~ Quote of the Day ~ The price of greatness is responsibility. — Winston Churchill ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** THOUGHTS ON VETERANS DAY by General Douglas MacArthur It is the SOLDIER, not the reporter, who has given us freedom of the press. It is the SOLDIER, not the poet, who has given us freedom of speech. It is the SOLDIER, not the campus organizers, who has given us the freedom to demonstrate. It is the SOLDIER, who salutes the flag, who serves the flag, and whose coffin is draped by the flag, Who allows the protester to burn the flag. AMEN. Folding of the Flag The following information on Folding the Flag was sent by Russell Maynard of Michigan. Did you know that government schools stopped teaching this in 1955? Sad, isn't it! The flag is folded 13 times to symbolize the original 13 colonies, but there is much more to the flag folding. Read on ... The 1st fold of our flag is a symbol of life. The 2nd fold is a symbol of our belief in eternal life. The 3rd fold is made in honor and remembrance of the veterans departing our ranks who gave a portion of their lives for the defense of our country to attain peace throughout the world. The 4th fold represents our weaker nature, for as American citizens trusting in God, it is to Him we turn in times of peace as well as in time of war for His divine guidance. The 5th fold is a tribute to our country, for in the words of Stephen Decaur, "Our Country, in dealing with other countries, may she always be right; but it is still our country, right or wrong." The 6th fold is for where our hearts lie. It is with our hearts that, "We pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States Of America, and to the Republic for which it stands, one Nation under God, indivisible, with Liberty and Justice for all." The 7th fold is a tribute to our Armed Forces, for it is through the Armed Forces that we protect our country and our flag against all her enemies, whether they be found within or without the boundaries of our republic. The 8th fold is a tribute to the one who entered into the valley of the shadow of death, that we might see the light of day. The 9th fold is a tribute to womanhood, and Mothers. For it has been through their faith, their love, loyalty and devotion that the character of the men and women who have made this country great has been molded. The 10th fold is a tribute to the fathers, for they, too, have given their sons and daughters for the defense of our country since they were first born. The 11th fold represents the lower portion of the seal of King David and King Solomon and glorifies in the Hebrews' eyes, the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. The 12th fold represents an emblem of eternity and glorifies, in the Christians' eyes, God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit. The 13th fold, or when the flag is completely folded, the stars are uppermost reminding us of our nation's motto, "In God We Trust." After the flag is completely folded and tucked in, it takes on the appearance of a cocked hat, ever reminding us of the soldiers who served under General George Washington, and the sailors and marines who served under Captain John Paul Jones, who were followed by their comrades and shipmates in the Armed Forces of the United States, preserving for us the rights, privileges and freedoms we enjoy today. There are some traditions and ways of doing things that have deep meaning. In the future, you'll see flags folded and now you will know why. Do you know that at military funerals, the 21 gun salute actually stands for the sum of the numbers in the year 1776? Eulogy for a Veteran Do not stand at my grave and weep. I am not there, I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the mornings hush, I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled flight, I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there, I did not die. A special thank you to this link for providing great information on Veteran's Day. http://www.lovetolearnplace.com/SpecialDays/Veteransday/veteransday.html I would like to personally add my thoughts and prayers for the many who have died proudly serving our country as well as the families of the military who are left behind. Thank you for giving your life so that I can remain free from tyranny and oppression. To those who serve today, my humble prayers of gratitude and honor are with you as you serve. Peace, Patricia |
~ Quote of the Day ~ A birthday is just the first day of another 365-day journey around the sun. Enjoy the trip. ~Author Unknown Hello people;  Today is my 2nd birthday here at WDC. Woohoo? Probably not. All it really means is that I managed to stay around and pay my money to belong to this site.And because I have the type of mind that never lets itself breathe, I’ve looked back over the two years and wondered if this was the best choice for me … the joining a group thing. I originally joined to get someone to read some of my pieces since all they were doing were rattling around in the place where my brain should be. I was excited when the first person gave me a review and liked my work, and then frightened to open up any further e-mails indicating the e-mail had a review attached. I still find that a frightening experience. I thought this would be the place where I would find insight to my writing, silly me with such a myopic view from inside my head. It’s kind of like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz when Glenda tells Dorothy that she didn’t have to go beyond her backyard to discover life … that’s paraphrased of course, but you get the drift. Being here I’ve had some wonderful experiences and some extremely horrifying ones. I’m not quite sure the wonderful have outweighed the horrible, but I’ve plodded along, too bullheaded to give up. I find it the most interesting that as a writer a good portion of my words have been misunderstood, misconstrued, and misused against me for someone else’s gain. So somewhere along the way I apparently haven’t developed the ability to actually communicate well, or I’m just a target in need of locked on arsenal. Either situation makes me a tad sad. I’m a big girl so don’t look for cake because this isn’t a pity party, just an honest evaluation of my time here. Walking down this road filled with writers of every caliber and ability has been quite an interesting experience. I’ll have to say something and if you’re offended I’m really sorry. The whole color thing drives me insane. It’s just this phantom color wheel which presumes if you magically turn a certain color you have immediately attained something beyond the grasp of ordinary man, or if you never change color you have no worth and must therefore remain in that static color. Bullshit. Frankly, I was surprised when I turned yellow, a color that I really don’t like in my real life, and livid that one of my friends has never been granted that gift because I think them a far superior writer to me. My favorite color is blue, but I don’t want to become something that color and will never strive to be in that place because I just want to learn to write well. And I’d be fine going back to black if someone feels they need to send me there. The only thing good about paying my money is that my little space is mine and if I don’t physically assault someone then I probably get to remain. As I’ve thought about it I also realize I’m not a very good joiner and remain on the outskirts of most situations, sometimes due to lack of interest, sometimes due to not being able to express myself well (I take full responsibility for my foibles and fears), many times because I would have to be in constant contact with people who have hurt me with their words. And hey, if I wanted that type of treatment I don’t have to pay for it, all I have to do is walk outside my front door. So this year’s anniversary is different from last year. I have grown as a writer, still unsure of most of the things I’m writing or trying to accomplish, but striving toward the real experience that right now is still in a phantom realm—that of becoming published. I have made a few good friends who have stayed through thick and thin, mostly thin, and for that I am eternally grateful. All of you have given me great joy and many laughs along the way. Thank you Ann, Linda, Lauren, Char, and Eric. Without you I may have ended this charade I call my life. And to those who just say things because they feel the need to express their feelings by aiming their frustration and anger toward me, I’ll say what I’m sure will offend most who are my friends. Fuck ’em. In all of this, the past year has been a rollercoaster ride, up, down, sideways, a two-wheel off the track kind of experience. To all of you who have given me good insightful reviews even if you thought the work crappy, I thank from the bottom of my heart because it gives me a place to regroup after the initial terror has worn off. I hope this next year I’ll be able to do the same for you. So, I guess here’s to a new year, huh? One in which I hope you all find your dreams that are just out of reach and somewhere over the rainbow … for the moment anyway. My candle in the dark is still lighted and I’m singing happy birthday to my twin  .Ta and peace, P |
~ Quote of the Day ~ In the presence of eternity, the mountains are as transient as the clouds. ~Robert Green Ingersoll Hello everyone; Yesterday and today I find myself filled with the mundanity of life, washing that needed doing, trying to figure out how to finish the odds and ends of projects started, scrubbing the kitchen sink, checking the fridge for lab experiments gone awry—basically attempting to find order and keep it somewhat intact while the cycle of life continues. I don’t know how proficient I am at the mundane since the process never really has an end so I can gauge results, it’s just that unrelenting cycle I get caught in. But I have come to an understanding with the mundane and can somewhat appreciate the static place. For in that place I often find something I haven’t really been looking for, an ephemeral portion of me that I never quite understand which lurks just out of my reach, but it’s there waiting for discovery. Today I opened a new box of Red Rose tea. Woohoo! you say. But inside that box of tea lies a little gift just as with Crackerjacks or cereal. Ever since I was little and lived with my grandmother, I loved to open the box and find out what porcelain object was hidden within the fragrant tea-scented bags. Silly I know, but it was always fun to line the dogs or birds along the cupboard edge and know that next time I might get something new or frown if I got the same gift. Today I got two blue cats that are kind of strange looking and one cat has their hand on the other’s chest as if covering the heart. The little thing is dopey looking, but I still had that sense of wonder as I opened the box and dug to the bottom of the tea bags to get my prize. Yesterday I walked around my backyard, assessing the dead stuff which needs to be thoroughly removed or cut back as we approach winter. As I surveyed my little piece of brown Tara, I noticed there were plants which were thriving, especially after our rain. A bush that has the most beautiful blue flowers, which hasn’t bloomed for several years due to the killing frosts, decided to pop up from the ground and begin growing again. I thought the thing had finally died since there hadn’t been any new shoots or growth from the barren ground. But there it was, almost a foot high. I checked out the pots and found life there; deep purple pansies were blooming amid the long bits of grass that had seeded in the pot. A small carnation peeked from a little pot, bright pink geranium blooms had magically appeared from a less than healthy looking plant, small purple blooms were springing from a potato bush I hadn’t had the opportunity to plant since it’s been so hot, but left in the shade hoping it would live. The jasmine vines are looking healthy, some ground cover with purple daisy-type flowers is doing great in the shade and a patch of alyssum had bloomed with its tiny sweet white flowers. Toward the side of my yard, a Mexican sage has burst forth in full bloom. The almost foot-long spires of velvety purple blooms create a beautiful array atop the gray-green of the plant. Hummingbirds love this plant and a few days ago a little green one was flitting in and out of the blooms seemingly enjoying itself. As I stood admiring the plants and their resilience I thought about picking up some new daffodil bulbs to plant since most of mine are spent, and giving myself another thing to look forward to next spring. A long time to wait for a bloom, but definitely not as long as it’s taken me to bloom. Today I also watched the space shuttle land, and the announcer telling those listening that the shuttle had completed over 6 million miles this trip. I think about all the people who take the shuttle trips for granted any more. It has become another mundane experience for some, although for me it’s still a piece of wonder seeing the launch and landings, knowing that we are the only country doing this type of thing. So, as I did another mundane activity of plastering my hair with deep conditioner, I stared out the window at the perfect blue sky, imagining what the astronauts saw as they reentered the atmosphere on their way to a perfect landing. Was their view as myopic as my own, just honing in on the things which needed to be accomplished, or did they get to take a moment to stare at the wonder God has created for us to view and experience daily? There is much to be said for the mundane activities in life, for in doing them we bring a sense of order that the excitement and business of life steals while creating chaos. And, when life and emotions get out of control this order brings a sense of peace. Today I am happy I get to still participate in the mundane, glad my mind and body work to accomplish the dull and boring aspects of everyday life. And along the way, just as with my surprise from the box of tea or the anticipation of spring bulbs blooming, I look forward to a life’s joys and heartaches knowing God has created a place of peace for my heart and soul. Today I happily rest in the palm of His hand, knowing no one can pluck me from that place of comfort and security. Here’s to the mundane, for going through the rote of life we often find another uncharted course because our minds are free to wander to what could be. Ta and peace, P |
~ Quote of the Day "Any proverbs about weather are doubly true during a storm." ~Ed Northstrum Hello people; While other parts of the country get to enjoy the turning of summer to autumn with a myriad of colorful leaves adorning their countryside, we in Fresno transition through the seasons differently. Until several weeks ago we were still in the nineties temperature-wise. The nights were cooling, thank God, but those temps just wanted to hover there and pretend we were still in the midst of summer. Although since we had lived on the Sun's doorstep most of the summer with unseasonably hot days, I will be the first to admit that ninety degrees feels like eighty with a warm breeze. One year we were in the nineties until Thanksgiving and that following winter most of us didn't wear sweaters or coats. So, as we moved further into autumn, like most other areas that have transitional weather, we occasionally get atmospheric change. The week that it was in the nineties gave way to a freak rain that no one had predicted. This was great since we desperately need water, not so great since the raisins were still on the ground and the cotton still on the bushes. But the rain, though lasting for a day, was gentle and not pounding, thereby not doing any damage to the crops still doing their thing in the sun. The rain dissipated, giving way to a clear blue sky we hadn't seen for quite some time due to the fires down south and their smoke lying across our valley in a stagnant layer of brown. A few days later while watching television, a warning warning came thorough, telling of a storm headed our way going north and east toward the Sierra Nevada's. Okay, since the installment of Doppler radar we thankfully get lots of warnings, but this warning was over quickly as the storm skimmed the edge of our town and headed toward the foothills. During that warning, another warning came across the wires, only this storm was barreling down the west side of the valley headed right toward us with a potentially serious storm. Living in a valley is interesting since at times the mountain ranges block incoming weather, or make the weather more intense ... just depends on all those elements involved. Having two different storms ride the sides of the valley was something I hadn't seen in quite a long time, of course I may not have remembered all the weather. For hours after the eastern storm blew over, the warnings for the western storm increased. First the warnings came every twenty minutes or so, with each statement increasing the storm's potential damage. After four hours of warnings, the messages were coming every five minutes telling us the storm was extremely dangerous with winds of sixty miles an hour sustained. We've had gusts that large, but not consistently sustained high-powered wind for a long time. I find watching storms fascinating since I love clouds. At times I've chased around the city while storms are brewing in order to take pictures for clouds to paint. Okay, I'm a weather geek. It was interesting this time in that there was no wind, but a calm that was eerie, which was a good indicator something really strange was going to happen. At times it's like that before an earthquake and gets a little creepy wondering what's going to happen. First a few leaves stirred and within about twenty minutes the branches were swaying madly to some silent music because there was still no sound involved. Lightning, thunder, rain all came quickly as the day plunged toward night. Usually storms rock our house and when I lived in the loft upstairs, I could feel the wind and rain shake the upper story. This time the storm was bad but not as bad as other times so we must have gotten just the side of the storm. When we awoke the next morning there had been a lot of damage with some businesses having their roofs blown off and stores and streets flooded. But I think since the storm passed so quickly that even though it dumped a lot of water more damaged wasn't incurred from a longer storm. Fresno really only has two seasons, and it is something we continually joke about with others not from around here. The seasons are hot and fog. For those of you unfamiliar with our fog, let me tell you London has nothing on us. I've lived here most of my life and I can tell you from first hand experience that driving in a fog white-out is something you don't want to do. Along with the blankets of white fog that create an eerie white emptiness, we also have what is known as tule fog, named after the tule marshes. This fog rises from the ground when you least expect it and creates a wall dense enough to show a movie on. Saturday morning we had our first full, major fog alert. I woke to sun, but had I been up a few hours earlier the area would have been socked in fog. On Highway 99, which runs the length of the valley, a patch of tule fog obliterated the view. Over a hundred vehicles were involved in a chain reaction collision. One man, that many fought to rescue but couldn't get him out of his car, died as the EMTs got to him. A child died as well. Many were taken to surrounding hospitals depending on the severity of their injuries. Looking at the wreckage on television, I was truly amazed more people weren't killed. Highway 99 is also a major corridor for trucking goods to both ends of our state. Large rigs had jackknifed, but under most of them were vehicles as if the trucks had landed on the cars and crushed them. Having driven on the highway during a white-out I can also tell you first hand that people are maniacs in the fog, driving as if there is clear sailing ahead. Now, the highway patrol guides you through the fog if you're lucky, otherwise if you're caught in the terror, you have to sensibly drive about five miles an hour and watch the reflectors on the right line along the highway edge. It is frightening enough if you're following someone's taillights, but being out there alone is disorienting and scary. I've missed turns while driving in the middle of town, hit the side of the road, and driven off into fields because the road disappeared. I can only imagine the horror of hitting that wall of fog with everyone going 70 miles an hour and slamming into each other. The people interviewed still looked in shock after being taken to the hospital, each describing what happened as they met metal in the fog. Today is sunny, but that's what the weather likes to create fog. It's almost better to have a bit of cloud. So I guess we've made it on the map once again for our extreme weather. It is odd to see a news alert come over cable television with the city's name hovering over the state with a giant arrow directed at our location, and then hear of that much terror and damage over a newscast. Indeed the world is getting smaller when Fresno is on the news. I hope all of you are having a wonderful day despite whatever inclemant weather is headed your way. Ta for now, P |
~ Quote of the Day ~ "O, how wonderful is the human voice! It is indeed the organ of the soul! The intellect of man sits enthroned visibly upon his forehead and in his eye; and the heart of man is written upon his countenance. But the soul reveals itself in the voice only; as God revealed himself to the prophet of old in the still, small voice; and in a voice from the burning bush. The soul of man is audible, not visible. A sound alone betrays the flowing of the eternal fountain, invisible to man!" - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Hello people; Well, here I sit, once again facing a blank white piece of virtual paper, watching the black and white fantasy ink of Times New Roman appear as I type. Seems like magic somehow, like how the toaster works only without coils and heat. I’m listening to Evanescence ‘Open Door’ CD on my computer, headphones firmly clamped on my head since it’s getting late and the music is turned up loud. A few weeks ago, while editing a piece, I took off the headphones and wondered what the odd sound was. Seems it was me singing in my new odd voice that hasn’t quite gone back to its original state of somewhat pleasant. The speaking voice is back with occasional cracking like today, but singing is different and tries all those muscles that support tone and pitch. I find it so amazing that if you hear a note the voice is actually able to replicate the pitch and at times the same tone. Truly a miracle we take for granted. My mother told me a about the same time of my scratchy odd song that I should get back to singing. She hadn’t heard the sounds emanating from me. After the eight months of doing little to strain my voice, I remembered those tones and laughed. To get back to where I was before I stopped singing would probably take me six months to a year. I’m down to about four notes instead of almost three octaves—many of those previous notes being sounds only dogs hear. I swear when I used to vocalize all the cats in the neighborhood ran toward my window and joined in the chorus. What can I say? Sopranos have their own set of followers. This past weekend, my mother dug out tapes of me singing with different groups through my early twenties. I listened for several hours to concerts that had luckily been taped for posterity, or was it poverty since I never earned money any time I sang except for weddings. I sang a lot, mostly trios, duets, and solos. I practiced a lot, often 12 hours a week with one group, several hours a week with another group, several hours a week with church choir, voice lessons, then sang concerts at various local venues, solos or group work for church … it just never ended and I loved every minute of it. Also during this time and much later I sang with community choruses performing with city orchestras. To me there is nothing quite like having the melody in your head and having your voice respond. Why am I going through the annals of my singing history? No, old age isn’t setting in yet where I remember things and repeat them to anyone who will listen. Today I finally got to see the ear, nose, and throat specialist for the large goiter sitting on my thyroid. I’d had to wait another month since my original appointment was one of the days I was swirling with the upside down universe of vertigo. But hey, inner ears are his specialty, so I could kill several birds with my one stone. I took all my reports, chest x-rays, CAT-scan films and delivered them with hopes of hearing good news. I sat in his office staring at all the cross sections of ears, throats, and noses, trying to remember all the medical terminology I had taught others. I think I was trying to trick my mind into accepting anything other than what I knew I was going to hear. The doctor was extremely nice, stating he’d checked all the films, listening as I described the eight months of being ill and how the slide toward broken blonde lump came to be sitting in his office. My ears were fine, couldn’t figure out why the vertigo. No surprise there since vertigo is one of those conditions that is hard to diagnose. If the spells continue then I’m back there to undergo audio testing and such. My thoughts are I’ll just take the anti-seasickness medication until everything else is healed or gone. Seems all the infections are gone and staying gone. Really good news since I didn’t want any more antibiotics. The throat was next since I’d lost my voice for so long and they weren’t sure how much the lump was constricting the voice, if at all. It’s constricting eating and sleeping so the sucker has become a little offensive in my throat. So, as he grabbed my tongue and repeatedly ran the mirror at the back of my throat, I fought the urge to throw up on him while saying ‘eeeeeee’ and breathing in and out. Great news—after the many years of singing, I had no polyps or anything scarring my vocal folds from singing incorrectly. I had told the doctor I sang. He’d asked what type of singing so I mentioned a few things. All the while he really didn’t look straight at me, although I think that was his demeanor anyway. He felt the lump, measured the lump, pressed on the lump, assessed the lump. Then stated, “It has to be removed.” Alright, I knew that was going to happen. I looked at him and said, “I want all the bad news now so I can deal with whatever is going to happen.” I stared him in his eyes as he spoke. “You may not have a voice after the surgery.” Okay, I’d kind of expected that as well since I’d read losing the voice was one of the problems associated with removing a goiter. The thyroid and parathyroid sit atop the vocal folds where the vocal cord nerve runs so it is a delicate procedure and the chance of losing the nerve function great. I didn’t cry, but I did feel that misty thing happening as I remembered my voice on those tapes, knowing I might never hear me again. I’ll admit even knowing that the possibility was there, actually hearing the sentence threw me. I coped, I think mostly because I’d been praying for strength to accept what was going to happen. Next came more questions—if they just removed the right lobe and I lose those nerves there will the other side eventually take over so I can speak? Yes, maybe, they couldn’t be sure. He looked at me and said, “You probably won’t sing again. Your voice will lose most of its range and be lower pitched and breathy because it will have to be somewhat forced over the cords.” Okay, I’m not sure sounding sexy will make up for losing my voice … especially when that is the only thing that I felt was somewhat different and maybe a little special. Singing was and is my passion, much more than anything I could ever accomplish. And it wasn’t as if I were Pavarotti or Beverly Sills, instead of the semi-hack who belted out songs. Still, it’s difficult to separate those emotions, because the singing is what I am, what my heart and mind goes to, where my soul lived when everything else ceased. The next question wasn’t as hard after hearing my voice may permanently end. What do they do when the thyroid is cancerous? My father had thyroid cancer so naturally it is a concern. The doctor nodded, and then explained how they do the biopsy and such, and if it is cancerous they take the entire thyroid. Plus, thyroid cancer is pretty curable …once the thyroid is removed the chances of cancer spreading are lessened. That’s good news. This specialist couldn’t operate on me due to the nature of the problem, but gave me several names. He said, “What type of insurance do you have?” I told him none. He said, “How the hell are you going to pay for all of this?” I don’t know, came the answer as I tried maintaining. “I’ll have to work it out.” I left and went to Wal-mart just to walk around and clear my mind before I went home and faced a barrage of questions from my mother. I know her concern, yet sometimes all of the terror has to be faced solo so I can put on a brave face for her and she can cope. It’s too overwhelming otherwise. I don’t remember too much of what I bought, but realized I didn’t get what I went for besides the clearing my head bit and I paid too much just to clear my head. So, that was part of my day. Another adventure started on another uncharted path. I’m sure I’ll be okay once I get my head around everything. Funny how we take so much for granted, isn’t it? Before I left, the doctor had looked at me and said, “This is curable.” I told him I knew that and I tried to keep all of it in perspective because I didn’t have something really inoperable. He said, “Yes, you’ll still be alive after all of it.” I didn’t want to tell him I’d just seen a thyroid operation on television where the woman went up in flames because the oxygen exploded when the surgeon’s tools hit the mask. Yeah, it’s best not to dwell on that right now. Tomorrow or today as the clock has now changed, is a new day. Life continues. Here’s to a new day. Ta and peace, P |
~ Quote of the Day ~ "I soon realized that no journey carries one far unless, as it extends into the world around us, it goes an equal distance into the world within." ~ Lillian Smith Hey everyone; The hour grows late, the candy's taken its toll, my eyelids are closing, sweet dreams to you all. I'll write more later today. Ta for now, P |
~ Quote of the Day ~ Eye of newt and toe of frog, Wool of bat and tongue of dog. Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting, Lizard's leg, and howlet's wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble. ~ William Shakespeare, Macbeth, 4. 1 Have a Happy Halloween. Beware of goblins, ghosts, and things that go bump in the night ... especially blondes willing to do dastardly deeds for a piece of chocolate! Every have a safe and spooky day. Muaaaaaaaaaah! ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
~ Quote of the Day ~ Generosity is giving more than you can, and pride is taking less than you need. - Kahlil Gibran (1883 - 1931) Hello everyone; I had closed my blog, unsure if I should keep it open and going. I'm still unsure. I also haven't been online for what seems like forever due to technical difficulties with a crashed computer and lost information that still needs wrangling. I'm kind of limping along until the computer gets totally healed, crashing and burning, unable to access WDC most of the time. But that's not really important in the scheme of things. Mainly, I wanted to say if you can spare a dime and feel generous, please make a donation to the American Red Cross to help California and her people as she burns. http://www.redcross.org/ As I watch my beautiful state burn I can only imagine what those surviving the fires are going through. I've visited a lot of the places now on fire, felt the winds whip across my body until I felt chapped, and there wasn't anything to stop the cycle of the wind. I can only imagine the horror of fire attached to those raging winds. I don't think unless we've been in that situation (like every one else's disasters) can we appreciate how much we take for granted in our lives. This disaster, like all others, should constantly remind us that things don't matter. It is we as people who matter. I encourage you to take a moment and pray for the hearts and souls of people you don't know in their time of distress. Prayer changes things. Peace to all of you. P |
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