*long, slow sigh*

*flexes fingers*

*relaxes shoulders*

*takes a deep breath – let’s it out slowly, and begins to type*

Last week only about ten words managed to get written on the novella-now-novel.  The rest of the time concerned going to doctors’ appointments and facing really crude, rude, hurtful people on the public bus and even in one of the doctor’s offices.  It shouldn’t surprise me about the doctor’s office because it was pain management.  Still, words hurt just as much as blows, and sometimes even more.  A physical wound can heal faster than an emotional one.  I am not  going to go into detail about last week other than to say every day last week, except for Friday, my Being was attacked in one form or another beginning Tuesday.

Monday – great day.

Tuesday – went to mall using public transit.  While on the bus a fellow passenger continually made comments about “cripples”.  None of said comments were…good or acceptable.  When I was finally able to escape the bus I literally burst into tears.  Normally I can ignore stupidity, but the woman’s verbal abuse got to me.

Wednesday – I was sitting outside my apartment reading.  It was a wonderful sunny morning for reading.  Usually this activity puts me in a marvelous mood and straightens what’s wrong.  A man I haven’t seen in the complex before who was very drunk and walking with a chihuahua looked at me and proceeded to sic said little dog onto “the nasty crippled b****”.  The dog didn’t bite me, but it sure did growl, bark, and nip, which sent my own dogs into fits on the inside.  I am just relieved I decided not to bring one of them out with me.

Thursday – This is the worst day.  Thursday was my appointment with pain management.  Even though I asked for Dr. J, I was seen by a PA in training.  After her consult she went and retrieved one of the senior PAs who came into the room and began grilling me as though I was under the influence of too much pain medication and was nothing more than a drug addict soliciting a fix.  Despite being well-dressed and in an electric wheelchair with many years of real pain under my belt, I was suddenly a non-person.  My words were not slurred; I was dressed well, clean, and spoke intelligently.  The words used won’t be repeated here.  I see no reason to give them continued thought, at least in written form.  My husband, sitting there with me, grew angrier and angrier, but gave such a quiet and strong mien to the PAs I simply could not be more proud of him!  When the PA had finished his say I asked to see Dr. J.  They left and Dr. J returned in just a couple of minutes.  He looked very concerned.

“They said they thought you were upset.  Are you?”  At this I couldn’t keep back all the tears, but didn’t explode with them.  I repeated to him what they said and he began apologizing “if any of my staff has offended you”, etc.

By the time we were at our vehicle I was in a shuddering cry.  I have never been spoken to like I had been that day.  The words were well-chosen and meant to defeat.  Most of my self-esteem and self-confidence evaporated.

Friday – I made a point of staying in the apartment.  The dogs didn’t mind at all.  The only reason I got out of bed that day was to feed my Willie since he won’t eat unless he gets hand fed.  Long story.

Saturday –  I stayed in the apartment again and played video games.  At least Saturday I thought about going out, but the heat made me question such an idea.  The Husband was glad to be inside with the A/C.  It took me a while to make a tentative decision to try to make it to church the next day, but, over-all, nothing exciting happened and I was able to put some things aright in my head.

By the time Sunday morning rolled around I simply couldn’t make myself go even though, we discovered the alarm clock hadn’t gone off and neither The Husband or I could make it in time for service.   We did get out to go to dinner and Starbucks later on, and Marine said some things to help with my self-esteem and self-confidence.

This brings us to yesterday, Monday:  Our seventeen year old Russian bear dog, Gabby had a stroke.  She is still alive, but isn’t doing well.  A vet came to the house to check her out because she simply couldn’t make it to our normal doctor.  Gabby received a shot for nausea and drooling and some medicine, a steroid, to see if that could help her get back on her feet.  Dr. Mac, the vet who came out to check Gabby, said to give her 24 to 48 hours to see if she can bounce back.  Gabby was doing better this morning than she is this evening.

I am  ready for either a do-over or just something fantastically wonderful to happen to help wipe away all of these past few days.  Hopefully it would be something to help me get over the renewed awareness I am in a wheelchair and will continue to be for a good long time to come.

Please tell me your week and days have been better?  Please, tell me you received good news and successes with word counts and reading.  Please?


About Henrietta Handy

I am a Kentucky mountain girl far from home, perhaps far from the girl years. I am an aspiring writer with a wonderful husband who puts up with this writing and reading addiction I have. He also puts up with all of the yarn and knitting. I have four canine children and a ton of friends I love dearly. I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis at the age of 2 1/2 and have still managed to have a good life despite all the pain. So, I invite you to join me in this journey and just possibly have fun along the way.
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3 Responses to *long, slow sigh*

  1. Brian Bixby says:

    “Like” is not an appropriate response. I don’t like hearing about abuse. (Hint: it’s the abuse that the problem, not the telling of it.)

    So, good things you want to hear? My current story on my blog will finish on schedule this Friday. All of a sudden, ideas for another story emerged out of thinking about some criticism I received on a previous story. Yep, you heard that: unfavorable criticism helped spawn some new and better ideas! My “Pirates!” course ended with the consumption of rum, and now I must prepare a course on Vikings. Fun. Period. And my girlfriend got out of her air splint for a twisted ankle, and into one that fits in her shoe.

    Needless to say, not EVERYTHING in my life is going great. I did not capture a genie and make him grant me eternal happiness or anything. (What DOES one do with eternal happiness? Wouldn’t it get boring after a while? Wouldn’t you like to try and find out, even so?) But even my problems seem to be just a little bit less imposing this week. I have managed to reduce my cuss words down from a blue streak to an orange one. The rain cloud over my head has switched to distilled water with a twist of lime.I haven’t yet managed to prove that I’m actually adopted and therefore immune from the family curse, but give me time . . .

    Liked by 1 person

    • You gave me just what I needed. I am sorry to see the current story end, though. I’ve grown quite fond of your characters and they’ve given me giggles. Looking forward to the new story! So, is the Pirates blog going to now become Pirates & Vikings? Interesting thought, that. Don’t forget mead. You need mead when talking about Vikings!

      Liked by 1 person

      • Brian Bixby says:

        Glad my comment was to the point. 🙂

        And thanks for the compliment. Once the story is completed, I’ll go on hiatus for a month, thinking about what has to be done next. As I mention, there’s a story (actually more than one) in mind. But I’m also trying to pursue more professional publication, and what THAT will do to my blog writing, well, I can’t say, yet.

        Yes, indeed, there will be Vikings, probably starting next week, on the Sillyhistory blog. And I will definitely not forget about mead. There’s a sort of local supplier half way across the state in Greenfield, Green River Meadery, which I’ve actually visited. So the last class should have mead. Works for me!


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