I Promise You, I Did NOT Want to Write This...
Lots of Livin' to Do
Upcoming Events:
Call Me to Hang Out!-Social Life is the Missing Link in the Life of People suffering from Aphasia and Dysphagia Previous Events
To all my readers, I cherish you! Please e-mail to submit events, give comments, ask questions, or to get info on events: [email protected] Lions and Tigers and Bears Oh My! Dysphagia-Aphasia-Dysarthria-Achalasia, Oh NO! You are not keeping me home! God grant me the Serenity to accept the things I can not change, Courage to change the things I can and the Wisdom to know the difference. From Time Immemorial:
Marie Ann Luton/Sister Irene Jones/Cousin Laura Cooper Speights/Best Friend Norma Daly/Godmother |
The proverbial gun is in my back. I have been running. Running like a mad woman. I did not want to be here! And I am steaming hot, angry, annoyed, livid and fuming that this is how I came to write about this crap. It's messy, not pretty. How the h-e-l-l did I get here?
I spent my life working somewhere, on some job, pulling my own weight and sometimes more than making ends meet. I had a strong work ethic. Some of my jobs were like eh; and some were pretty, pretty cool. I had a gift: I could write. Write the best resumes, the best reports, the best manuals, ideas, mission statements, objectives, tactics, marketing plans, executive summary's, stories, etc. Writing helped me to land a few lucrative and attractive jobs. Jobs where I hob-knobbed a little bit with the beautiful people and my lifestyle was pretty--it was filled with events, shows, being on the guest list at openings and sitting up-front, dead-center at shows. I was almost famous and the entertainment was sublime. One job was with a local magazine, freelance gigs as a publicist for entertainers, a coveted spot as a Morning Show Producer for Radio, (did I say coveted, yeah that's right--get a cushy, pretty job and you enter the land of the envied and the cut-throats are waiting to take your place). Did I say a pretty life? Well maybe not so much so, as there were surely some controversies, back-stabbing and the Housewives of Craziness, professionally and personally. But I like to think of it as the good old years, the good old times--the years B.S. (before stroke, and I know you thought I cursed but actually I try not to say bad words). However, now I said it, the 'it' word--I tried to run from this word for years--7 years to be exact. Can you imagine I walked around for 7 years before I acquiesced to that's--What in the world happened to me?--a S-T-R-O-K-E. It's now 3 years since then and let me tell you I have had h-e-l-l to pay. And not just from the maladies of the stroke--but it seems when you have a disability you are discarded, and regarded as a "pia", who is in the way of someone; and the someone's way that you are in, (is usually in a big rush), while driving a Mack truck (to run you over). Not only that, you are also pegged as a sucker, thought of as being a push-over, stupid and irrelevant. It's been a whirlwind of disappointment, agony, rejection and pain--not only physically, but also emotionally. Especially victimizing to me was coming across: countless busy, impersonal doctors, and other allied health care practitioners who have rushed me in and out of their offices so fast that my head was spinning. Not to mention the rude clerks in retail stores with smirks on their faces, the non-accessible places and spaces, and the blatant disregard by businesses, that have also given me much angst. By the way, did I mention doctors? Doctors who push pills and shots like they are giving out candy and if you don't read the label and research the side effects of these drugs you will be barking like a dog, ticking and jerking all the while, as you fall prey to addiction. So I have come to the realization that, I must stand up for myself and say NO! Otherwise I would be in despair. Still sometimes, some of what I find myself up against is so mind-boggling! And what brings me to my sensibilities is listening to similar stories from fellow disabled passengers, as we journey to our destinations sharing the drive with Access-a-ride. It is then that I realize, I am not alone. I heard myself recently saying something out loud that I would have never said B.S. It was once while talking to my vocal coach, (more like crying, when Access-a-ride made me miss my class), I actually said, "And what's left for me in this world?" This is one of those times when I know I am deeply saddened about my situation. Because before B.S., I had that "glass is half full" mantra down pat. Life's little inconveniences B.S. could be swapped for other events, there was always something else to do. And plus, if something was bothering me, I was good at being tough as nails and pretending that none of the cruelness of the world was bothering me--(or maybe I thought I was good at hiding my feelings). I've begun to understand lately that we are all more transparent than we know. But now, I know there are so many aging disabled who feel the same way as I do. Being alone is one of the greatest fears of the elderly and the disabled. Moving into a nursing home is another. Jeez. How did I get here? Thinking back, I met a woman some years ago, that was disabled. I was working at a very good job. (It was a couple of years before I would find myself disabled). A man took advantage of her and talked her into second-mortgaging her home so that he could borrow the money for some hair-brained business scheme. He never repaid a dime. She was going into foreclosure when I met her. I befriended her--partially because of what she was going through, but mostly because I felt she was going through all of this madness alone. (No sister, no mom). And I just decided to be her friend, (like "BFF": hang out, go to the movies with, go to dinner with, be the shoulder to cry on and the friend who would listen to her vent). There's a voice out there. And the people I am drawn to have a lot to say. Their voices maybe of vulnerability, pain and hurt. But it is a voice of truth. So now, I too have a voice, a similar voice and believe me I tried not to be vocal, just accept my plight in life. I so wanted, to not get involved, and stay out of controversy--just go along to get along. But I am now here, an advocate for change. So that's why I will write. I am forced, I am compelled. I am the aging, disabled baby boomer. But most of all I am compelled not to be a victim of vulnerability or at least not pointless vulnerability. Blessings and Love YOU Madly, May ~Page Dedication~
My Family: Tiffanie, Shawn, Genesis, Zilah, Vicky, Louis, Omar, Baby Omar, Shawn Thank you to my Angels: Jasenth, Jimi, Maxine, Mr. Hall, Catherine, Darleen, Miriam, Gail. My Life Savers: Weekly Prayer Partner Bereavement Counseling Stroke Life Society ~Mama and Papa in Heaven~ Thank you for sending me to: Music Lessons, Sunday School and Church Rhonie, thank you for proofreading this page |