I hear them say America needs to make American goods. Cost more money than good old China. So what? You want your jobs? You’re going to have to pay!
I hear them say poor people of color are thugs, thieves and rapist. Why is that? Is it because bigots with axes to grind are blindly hired. Vet and train your cops a hell of a lot better or else we all have to pay.
I heard them say abortions are evil and they need to shut those clinics down. Then guarantee a nation of fathers that teach their boys how to be good men. And girls get the attention they need from their fathers instead of paying for love with sex. Promise no more incest, molestation, degradation and bodily humiliation! Because it does exist! Will you mandate that law or is the price too much to pay?
I heard them say the poor are lazy parents at best! Is it because our single mothers work 2 and 3 jobs? Give them family leave and a damn living wage! Hey boss man, you’re going to have to pay!
I heard them say, keep those Muslims out. Well this Christian loves all good people. Especially the different ones from herself. What will it cost to keep and take them in. I will happily pay!
Posted: June 15, 2016 in Life, Love, Society
My problem and yet happy asset in life has been to thoroughly examine the world. I am of course the microscope in this task. Find the real big picture and let it affect you.
What was beyond the bridge in that painting? How many grains of sand were on the beach? Has that beautiful woman been kind? These were my youthful thoughts.
Today I think about all the hugs, kisses and jokes issued by murdered victims when they were alive. How many of them donated money, time and heart to charities or the homeless?
How many hundreds or even thousands of people have been robbed of wisdom, tenderness and love from those that are no longer with us? Everyone loses. There can never be justice.
We are all grains of sand on the beach. We are bunched up together. If one shifts, others shift. Smiles exchanged by strangers at the market or restaurant matter.
Everything we do matters. We do not live is a vacuum. We need each other to know who we are. Ending one life corrupts, disrupts and erodes so many others.
Posted: May 28, 2016 in Health, Life, Love, Marriage, Men
I have had many medical issues throughout my marriage. Surgery for this. Therapy for that. An army of healthcare professionals armed with a plethora of medication.
When you’ve been plagued with various physical and mental challenges you really do test those marriage vows. They are much more than loving words in a religious ceremony.
My husband is my connection to everything … including him. I’m so grateful for that. He naturally identifies what I need or where I’m growing. He takes care of all of me.
Everything good in me shines on the platform he provided. This blog is housed in the tablet my love gifted me. My husband truly gets me and loves me in whatever state I’m in.
Imagine walking around knowing that you are safe, really safe with your partner in life. I trust my man with every fiber of my being because he’s earned my trust from the day we first met.
Loving my husband is effortless. Celebrating his life is a joy and an honor. My husband’s name is Scott and tomorrow we will celebrate his birthday.
God blessed me before I was born. Out of all the guys in the world … I am perfectly loved by the right one. Thank you for being born and wrapping me in your arms.
Posted: May 28, 2016 in Life
For the past two weeks I’ve been going to outpatient physical therapy. It mercifully involves hot packs and back massages by a lovely PT. She worked with me after my knee replacement surgery and we get along great.
I’ve also been blessed with muscle relaxants prescribed by my rock star neurologist. What does it do for me? It makes me sleepy and decreases my back pain.
The pins and needles sensation in my legs have greatly decreased, but I still have the weakness. On good days I use a cane to go out. On bad days it’s the walker. I’m noticing that stairs (my nemesis) aren’t as challenging as they use to be.
My body doesn’t feel itself, but it can do more now. I can leave my house and visit with grateful people. Everyone thanks me and my husband for coming out. I make the effort because they’re worth it.
Does this mean I’m inching my way back to normal? Normal has been such a world away from me for an eternity. My house is set up for a disabled, brain damaged writer. I can do a lot of things – with a few adjustments.
Normal scares me because I don’t really remember who “normal me” is anymore. I still don’t want to drive. The old me drove everywhere and all the time. Is the old me still around? Maybe normal should just hang back for a while.
After two weeks in a coma, I was transferred from the hospital to a nursing home filled mostly with seniors.
My roommate was dying and in pain. My heart went out to her. Thankfully she blessed with a loving and dutiful daughter. Her daughter was very kind to me as well.
Almost all the staff was kind and caring. Until towards the end of my stay. I was vomiting bile for two weeks. I ate nothing. It was nearly impossible to keep medication down. I feasted on water and ice chips.
My roommate’s daughter was tired of her mother’s suffering and arranged the escape to a hospital. Once she was gone, my condition got worse and I had a forgetful nurse.
I had to use the toilet. My nurse had to help me. She wiped me as if I was cardboard. Then put me back into bed. The worse comes 10 minutes later.
I had to go again. After ringing for her she yelled at me! She said she was on her break. Then shouted at me, what’s wrong with you? I said I don’t know. I’m not a doctor. She said, me neither.
After putting me in bed (roughly) I cried quietly. I assessed the situation. I can’t walk, eat, wipe myself and a nurse just told me off. I called my husband and begged to be taken out of this place.
It took an eternity (from my point of view) to be sprung. I went to a great hospital. I was treated with dignity, compassion and professionalism for three days.
Then I went home. A careless psychiatrist started this rollercoaster by not monitoring my lithium levels. I always did as I was told. I’m 46 years old and I was defenseless.
Thank God I can move now.