Behold.....my grandson!!!!

I have not had TV since the much-heralded conversion to digital several months ago.  It was a choice I made.  I had the coupon for the converter box, but then found out you still needed to purchase a separate antenna, go through all sorts of trouble getting it set up just right...and for me, it just wasn't worth it.  Since going online a few years ago, I have not been a huge TV-watcher anyway, and the truth (shockingly) is that I don't miss it! 

There are still one or two programs I watch faithfully every week, online.  And I seem to get my news quicker and more accurately than my non-TV-challenged friends.  I watch old Iron Chef re-runs on youtube if the mood strikes me and if I really want to lie down on the sofa and just veg, there is always my collection of Bionic Woman tapes. 

So for the most part, that big black box on the other side of the room sits in a silent vigil.  Maybe one day I will decide to get basic cable, or the stupid digital equipment, but for now I am very content to be sans television.

A couple of weeks ago, my daughter and I decided to be brave and went to the store where I used to work.  (The one with the VERY abusive owner.)  She wanted a big deli pickle and I wanted a certain brand of energy drink that only he carries, so even when we saw his car outside, we decided to go in.

It was surreal.  When we got to the counter, he smiled at us!  He didn't smile at me one single time in the year I worked for him!  And he was gracious, friendly and talkative.  Asked what was up with me using a cane, so I told him.  (Left out the part where he might have been part of the huge stress that caused the stroke.)  He commented on our purchases and offered to check the back to see if there was any more of my energy drink.  When we left and got in the car, we both shivered. 

"Who was that person and what did he do with O?" my daughter asked.  It was more words than I think he'd spoken to me in that entire, miserable year...and he was smiling!  Aliens...it had to be the work of aliens.  Or maybe just that I was spending money there...who knows?

Remember a couple of weeks ago when I had stomach pain and was guessing it was sleep-related?  It is, because while I was hurting, I was sleeping a LOT, but in one or two hour bursts.  And now the stomach trouble is back.  The old body itself is doing much better.  I am walking upright and no longer holding onto the walls.  But the kangaroo has resumed kicking me.  All it will take, I think, is a good solid 5 or 6 hours of sleep.  I definitely have the time, but if only there was a way to force my body to just keep sleeping...

Word count is now 30,049.

It has been a rough week, in terms of pain.  I spent a good portion of Tuesday and Wednesday in bed.  Tuesday, I couldn't even walk upright.  Bubba was scared - he was hovering.  Each day it gets a little better.  Today, I am still moving very slowly but at least can get around without worrying I won't make it from bed to chair.  And after two days of not writing, got two chapters done tonight.  Not quite back to my usual momentum, but it's getting there. 

Word count 27,596.

I got a LOT done today!  Well, a lot for me, anyhow.  Visited the shelter this morning, then my Mom took me to the laundromat.  Hauled five loads of laundry into the washer, the dryer and then home again.  Bought a week's worth of groceries and lugged them all into the house (up the stairs) by myself.  I wasn't about to ask my Mom to do it!  Also took 4 heavy bags of garbage down the back stairs.  All told, about a dozen more trips up and down the stairs than I usually make in a single day, and with heavy bags in my hands each time!  It was a good feeling to get so much accomplished, but now I can barely move!  Arms, legs, back - they all detest me with a vengeance!  And if I know my body, it will be worse tomorrow. 

At least I can still type.  Sort of.  Word count on NaNoWriMo story currently at 23,983.

'Severe PTSD' - that is what they're telling me.  I kind of figured that much, but getting it as an actual diagnosis is still rather weird.  Just because of the stupid bats.  They did say that I am handling it pretty well, and I AM much better than I used to be.  Still in a near-constant state of semi-alertness, but at least I'm no longer white-knuckling the chair every minute of every day.  It is slowly getting better.

It isn't just a matter of simply 'shaking it off'.  (Oh, how I wish it were that simple!)  It's a terror that was imprinted in my brain as a very small child and then re-activated - in triplicate - and the internal, visceral memory remains.  It's possible it will never go away entirely, but it will get better.  I am already ten times stronger internally than I was a few months ago.  And I have my faithful, furry bodyguard watching out for me.  :)

The excerpt I posted here yesterday was from the beginning of the seventh section of the story, so today I will print the story's actual introduction.  Yes, folks, it is a bionic story.  Not commercially publishable at this time, but there is a small new ray of hope in the negotiations.  Anyhow, here is the beginning.

Legacy

November 1, 2009

Rudy says it won't be much longer. I know he blames himself, but he really shouldn't. Life is like a dice game – unpredictable and full of risks – and Rudy made it possible for me to have an extra turn, an extra shot at the game. I can never thank him enough for that. It was the rarest of opportunities, glittering in my hands like a butterfly – so beautiful and fleeting that you simply know from the outset that one day it must be released. Obviously, I am not a writer but I'm hoping that one day Steve's and my children will seek answers that maybe (if I can pull enough from the old memory banks and from my diaries) these pages can provide for them.

I'm 'only' 60, which some would state firmly is just too young to die nowadays – and certainly too young to think of leaving a legacy – but I died when I was 26 years old, so the thought isn't as terrifying to me as it is to most people. The genius that brought me back and kept me here for another solid 34 years deserves to be noted and lauded for his accomplishments. Perhaps once Steve and I are both gone, Rudy's work will be able to be recognized and appreciated. My goal is to see that this happens, as well as to let Jenna, Adam and Hannah know how very, very much they were loved and hopefully give them a clearer grasp of exactly who their parents were.

I don't want bionics to be seen as the cause of our deaths, but rather as the catalyst that enabled us to go on living, long after our final dice had been tossed.

- - - - -

NaNoWriMo story is up to 8312 words.  Today, I wrote a chapter that made ME cry!  (Most of the story is not quite so dismal, though.)  Here is an excerpt.  (I should add that this is not an autobiography.  It is fiction.)

How do you describe an event so wrenching that it shatters the very core of your soul? And how do you go one step further, putting it into typed-out words, stark in their pain as they glare back at you from the icy display of a computer monitor? Truly life-altering traumas can hit as suddenly and unexpectedly as bombs from an unseen enemy...with equally devastating results. The first time I was hit with such a life bomb, I was only sixteen.

Today...a minor miracle:




(And my NaNoWriMo story is at 4207 words.)

My face is back to normal!  *HUGE sigh of relief!*  Bubba has stopped eying me from the loveseat next to my computer chair and gone back to his favorite sleeping spot.  I slept on and off for the better part of the week, due to the antibiotic and my body fighting off the infection, but have emerged none the worse for wear.  Other than my legs acting a little wonky, all is well.

Rocky has adopted the space under my tiny computer table as his very own.  He practically lives there, like the troll under the bridge.  When Bubba notices the spot is temporarily vacant, he'll sit under there - not sleeping, just grinning triumphantly.  Rocky will return and give me this stricken look to say "Mom....he did it again!" Then he paws and swats at Bubba until he gets a reaction and (eventually) reclaims his spot.  Bubba never really wanted the spot in the first place, just wanted to prove he could take it if he chose to do so.

Rocky is a little disgruntled because I have had to put an end to one of his favorite hobbies.  He loved to close himself in the bathroom - and it was funny at first - until he did it four times in one evening and then I had to get up at 2am to let him out of the bathroom again.  Now there is a big, heavy bottle of dish soap holding the door open.  Mean Mommy, stealing all his fun!

NaNoWriMo starts in just under one hour....and I am so excited!  Couldn't do it last year because I was in the shelter, but I did finish in 2007 and am looking forward to doing it again.  Fifty thousand words in thirty days - here I come!   :)