Day 13: Personal Resources

I am participating in the American Cancer Society’s challenge to write for thirty minutes each day in May. I do a lot of writing and I can meet this challenge. I plan to make a blog entry each day with what I’ve written.

I wanted to participate in memory of loved ones who fought cancer bravely but succumbed:

My brother-in-law Jeff

My sister-in-law Ann

My dear friend Kay

My Uncle Bob

My Uncle John

I also wanted to help raise money to support research and a cure for those currently fighting this vicious disease.

My Facebook to the fundraiser is here. 

 

 "Write about something that you always have with you."

Wherever I go, I carry the book I’m reading. Sometimes I have two books with me, leaving one in the car. That’s my “in case” book, the one I’ll need if I happen to finish the one I’ve got under my arm.

I started this practice back in junior high. Often, I was finished with a class assignment before everyone else. I grew tired of feeling bored waiting for everyone to finish so I always made sure I had my library book with me. Other students who also finished early but didn’t have a book fidgeted. I had plenty of patience. I could read all day if I could.

I can’t tell you how annoyed I was when I took the PSAT and SAT in high school and wasn’t allowed to read while I waited for time to be up. What did they think I was doing, cheating? We weren’t allowed to read or doodle. Finger drumming and pencil tapping weren’t permitted either. What was there to do but look out the window at … nothing going on.

Reading in the car or on the bus didn’t make me carsick. When I was tired of looking out the window, I would pull out my book and read. It made a six-hour drive from Baltimore to Long Island pass quickly. My brother would stare glumly out the window. He didn’t care much for reading.

While we lived in Baltimore, we didn’t really need a car much. I took two city buses to get to high school and frequently rode other bus lines to get where I needed to go. I would pull out a book to read while I stood waiting for the bus to arrive. The wait didn’t seem so long, and my feet didn’t seem to hurt so much standing in place. The book would come out again as soon as I sat down on the bus.

Having a book with me has helped me endure long waits in the doctor’s office. Even when a tech finally brings you back to a room, there is still another long wait for the doctor to make an appearance. I have even pulled out a book to read while waiting in a long line at the bank or at a store.

Some years back, Ted convinced me to try a Kindle. I must admit I was intrigued by the idea. It’s become harder to hold a big book. The weight of one of the Outlander series by Diana Gabaldon was enough to make my wrists and hands ache. Being able to read such a long story on a little bitty Kindle seemed miraculous.

I couldn’t do it.

I tried; I really did. It just wasn’t the same. My Kindle didn’t have the heft of a “real” book. There wasn’t a physical sensation on my fingers in turning the pages. There wasn’t a new page scent.

I am on my third Kindle. I think I’ve used it a handful of times since Ted got it for me as a Christmas gift two years ago. I still download free eBooks to it. I just haven’t read any of them. I don’t know if it’s because I’m old school or because some folks, old or young, just must have the “feel” of a hardback or paperback book.

I’m breezing through my latest book, Small Mercies. It’s written by one of my favorite authors, Dennis Lehane. Some writers just have a way with words that pull me into their stories. Dennis Lehane, Wally Lamb, John Irving, Stephen King, James Clavell, Amy Tan, and Diana Gabaldon are on that list. I would also include Betty Smith, a favorite from my teen years. She wrote A Tree Grows in Brooklyn and Joy in the Morning.

I find new favorites every time I walk into the library.

I am at the point in my life where carrying a book with me wherever I go has become second nature. I’m never at a loss for something to pass the time pleasantly, no matter where I am waiting.

 

 

Two Good Men

 

These are two honorable men in the news right now.

Former President Jimmy Carter is 98 and has had some health issues. The Jimmy Carter Foundation announced yesterday that he is entering hospice care and prefers to live out his days at home with family. There won’t be any more hospitalizations. I love Jimmy Carter and so I’m sad, even though he’s had a full life.

Jimmy Carter is the embodiment of what it means to be a Christian. He is a kind, loving man who helped broker peace during his presidency and afterward. He and his wife Rosalyn both volunteered for Habitat for Humanity. The organization builds homes alongside low-income people who want to buy a house but can’t afford it. He and Rosalyn both were actively involved in home building into their nineties. One of my favorite pictures of Carter was after he’d taken a fall (in his nineties) and still showed up to work, black eye, and all.

Even though he had some successes as President, he’s mainly seen as ineffective. I believe it’s because he wouldn’t play Washington politics. Members of Congress didn’t like that and so it was difficult for him to get his agenda passed.  I think he wasn’t effective because he was too much a Christian and unwilling to get into the dirt with political players.  The hostage crisis in Iran was the straw that broke the camel’s back, in my opinion. He made an attempt to rescue the hostages, but the plan blew up with helicopters that crashed. He was really bashed for that.

I remember the fallout when he admitted to a reporter that yes, even though a devout Christian and happily married, he’d still “lusted in his heart.” How the critics went bonkers over that. I remember thinking, what’s the big deal? We are all human. I’m sure we all have “lusted” in our hearts over someone or something. So what? You’d have thought he’d said something catastrophic.

Compare that to the behavior of today’s “christian” nationalists. They lie, cheat, threaten, bully, and promote violence. I don’t know who they think they’re following but it sure isn’t New Testament Jesus. NT Jesus was all about feeding & caring for the poor, sick, and homeless. He was all about protecting children. He was all about inclusion, welcoming and sheltering immigrants. These “christian” nationalists seem to be all about neglect, oppression, suppression, discrimination, and corruption. They cater to the 1% of the population who are very rich and powerful.

Jimmy Carter is one of my heroes.  I am sorry to lose him because there are so few heroes left these days.  I am very proud that my first vote in a presidential race went to Jimmy Carter. I am glad I was at the inauguration and saw Jimmy Carter, hand in hand with Rosalyn, walking down the street to the Capitol instead of riding in a limousine. I never met Jimmy Carter, but I am grateful he’s been a part of my life. God bless Jimmy Carter.

Speaking of how few heroes there are out there, I also wanted to acknowledge Pennsylvania Senator John Fetterman. I don’t know much about him other than the fact he had such a fun, colorful campaign last year despite suffering a stroke. Recently, he checked himself into Walter Reed Hospital on the advice of his physician. He is suffering from severe depression. He is a hero because of his courage in acknowledging his depression and need for treatment.

Depression is still stigmatizing. I have had low lying depression since my teen years. It used to be called dysthymia but now is called MDD. When I began to seek treatment back in the 1970s, I kept it all secret. There was (still is) a lot of misunderstanding about depression. In those days it seemed to mean “crazy”. I don’t know if anyone remembers Sen. Thomas Eagleton or former Gov. Mike Dukakis but both suffered depressive episodes. And when that became public, their political careers tanked.

When I was working as a unit secretary in the mid-1970s, I’d become friends with my bosses. One of them noticed my upper eyelids drooped. It was a side effect of the anti-depressant I was taking. I took her into my confidence and explained. I’ll never forget the look of horror she gave me. It was like she thought I was contagious. She said, “I don’t want to know about it!”

I didn’t confide in anyone else, not for years. It wasn’t until a psychiatrist explained that it was a biological problem, not a problem of character or behavior. My brain wasn’t producing enough serotonin, dopamine, or epinephrine and so even on my “good days” my mood wouldn’t match those of others whose brains did make enough of those feel-good hormones. I didn’t have to feel ashamed and hide my dark secret.

I am also not alone. There are so many of us with depression. Some are open about it and others are not. There’s still misunderstanding, and a stigma attached to depression.

John Fetterman is a hero because he chose to do what was best for his health and not be secretive about it. By being open about his depression, we can be educated further about what it is, the different types, symptoms, and treatments. People who have depression but are suffering in silence might feel encouraged to seek help.

I can say what untreated depression feels like: imagine being down a deep, dark well with slippery sides. You can get a purchase to try and climb out of the well, but you can look up and see the sun shining. But the sunshine doesn’t bring any light into that dark well. There’s no way out. It’s all hopeless. Self-harm thoughts are intrusive.

I have a cocktail of medications I take to boost all those hormones lacking in my brain. I haven’t been down that well in years. I will have to take these meds forever in order to stay out of the well.

If that ends up being the case for Senator Fetterman, so what? It doesn’t make him weak-willed or lacking in character.  He’s one of the good guys. We should all support him and wish him well. I think he can serve our country well. Good on you, Senator Fetterman!