ANNARCHY - Latest Comments in Refugee At Home

Re: Refugee At Home

Rency — Thu, 29 Jan 2009 03:51:52 -0000

I understand how it would be to face all this but am glad out of this you keep your calm and are moving in forward positively. My mother is suffering a similar experience but my Hope lies in my God. Only thing i would like to share with you is trust in God. He made us. Jesus Christ died for us and rose again that we would be free from all this pain. By his stripes we were healed and am sure if we trust and have faith in God, in prayer if we ask for healing God will heal us right now. I must say you are a prolific writer and really brave at heart. By reading your blog i felt more closer to God. He's giving me more reason to Praise Him. From today on Ann u will be in my prayers..you can send your prayer requests to me at rencym10@gmail.com

Re: Refugee At Home

Susan @pinkolivefamily — Tue, 27 Jan 2009 08:22:56 -0000

Dear Ann,

What an eloquent writer you are ~ so glad to read & know that you are doing well and recovering. Wish you all the best sincerely ~ and look forward to reading more of your updates via ur blog site as well via twitter. PS - yes! SPF50 all the way for myself and for my family.

Best!

Susan

Re: Refugee At Home

John Munsell — Mon, 26 Jan 2009 09:34:35 -0000

Ann,
Wow! I could read your writing all day long. So sorry to hear of the whole ordeal, but what a gift you've been given.
Perhaps the debate at the end should not be about how long we have before we become permanent exiles or refugees from the bodies of our youth, but rather how long do we have to bring smiles to the faces of others through the talents God has given us. You are unbelievably talented and you bring smiles to the faces of so many through your writing every day.
In about 4 months I will undergo my 3rd surgery, only this time it's a biggie. What started out as a simple hernia repair has now grown into a major complication. Apparently, it comes with a lot of risks and a two-month recovery period.
While I certainly have my concerns, there’s a part of me that welcomes the down time. I’m sure I’ll have plenty of my own pink pills, but I hope that it gives me a similar time of reflection. I hope that it gives me the time to pen something as poignant and compelling as the things you put out every day. And I hope that through my writings I can put a smile on someone’s face like you do each and every day through your own written word.
You’re the best, Ann. Your body doesn’t define you. Read the words of all those who care about you and who responded to your post. You educate people. You motivate people. You move people. You make people laugh. And in this particular post, you did it all while living in temporary exile. What a gift indeed!

Re: Refugee At Home

Adam Needles — Sun, 25 Jan 2009 23:13:55 -0000

Hi, Ann. Thanks for sharing this with all of us.

My wife flagged this piece, and I knew you were undergoing some surgery, but I had not fully internalized the experience you were going through. And your words are so poignant in that regard.

I sincerely hope you're feeling better and that this surgery has 'taken care of' what ails you. I'm sure this is something you would not like to make a regular thing.

Best wishes for a continued recovery!!

Re: Refugee At Home

Rohit Bhargava — Sun, 25 Jan 2009 10:48:52 -0000

You know you're a writer when some of your best writing comes from a moment of personal crisis like this. I'm glad you shared the experience with all of us and gave us all the gift of this wonderful post to think about and share. But as a fellow writer, the thing that makes me happiest is knowing the therapeutic satisfaction that probably came from writing this for you. Sometimes there's nothing like writing about an experience and reading it back in our own words to help us deal with a difficult moment. Looking forward to seeing you and your resurrected nose at an event soon. :-)

Re: Refugee At Home

Paulette — Fri, 23 Jan 2009 12:07:56 -0000

Again, what can I say but wow! I've been laid up 2x, once because of eye surgery (a cornea transplant) and once after near-fatal pneumonia. You capture perfectly that sense of being trapped by the body that has inexplicably betrayed you, and the way that betrayal somehow alters the movement of time. I hope you're well and recovering.

Re: Refugee At Home

mom3girls — Thu, 22 Jan 2009 19:29:31 -0000

Welcome back, I missed your writing and (especially) your tweets!

Re: Refugee At Home

Marta — Thu, 22 Jan 2009 16:27:41 -0000

Ann, I have only recently learned about you and started reading you. Never left a comment, don't know why. I want to say thank you, I want to say your descriptions move me just "like a blind man learning the face of a friend," and most of all I want to say, long enough, Ann, long enough! Love, Marta.

Re: Refugee At Home

Judy Mitchell — Tue, 20 Jan 2009 13:06:50 -0000

Split a case of SPF 70 with you? I was there 2 years ago and have the 3" scar on my leg to remind me to reapply. Sorry you got so sick. Glad you turned to sitcoms in times of trouble -- it keeps me high end sunblock - just when I thought I had a meaningless job! Great post -thanks for sharing the story.

Re: Refugee At Home

Katybeth — Tue, 20 Jan 2009 08:40:22 -0000

Oh my! Sounds just really awful--Usually the best thing about pain is the great legal drugs--I think you should get a full refund and be allowed to keep your nose!

One consolation (I think) your children are to young to be able to insult you with Bozo the clown jokes?

Hope you are back at your WII best soon!!

Re: Refugee At Home

Jaculynn Peterson — Tue, 20 Jan 2009 01:59:37 -0000

Ann,

I'm so sorry you had to endure this. I'm familiar with the sickness, thoughts, fears, and despair you described. Had a few repairs myself in 06.
Talk about feeling helpless and dependent! Yes, I took it all for granted, too!

Life is full of cruel ironies: That you should generate one of your best pieces of writing (IMHO) during one of your worst moments...

That you should require any cutting of any sort on such a perfectly pleasant and perky nose (a true gift of Nature - or your mom or dad? :-) is yet another cruel irony. [People PAY big $$ to create your type of nose! heh]

That you should change my mind in 10 minutes about not wearing sunscreen after my husband unsuccessfully spent 10+ years pleading with me to wear it.

That's right. I - the one who never, ever wears sunscreen - will now wear sunscreen. Nope, I'm not a masochist or a moron. I just never wore sunscreen. Now I will. And now I'm thinking this piece should appear in many other pubs and on other sites...to scare the hell out of everyone else into wearing it too.

Thank you Ann. THANK YOU. (my husband will probably thank you too)

I am so very happy that you are feeling better.

Best wishes,
Jaculynn

Re: Refugee At Home

Alan Wolk — Mon, 19 Jan 2009 23:56:04 -0000

A little late to this party, but it's easy to see why you'll be alright: rather than deciding the sky was falling, you managed to bring a bit of humor and levity to the whole thing. And that ability to see the humor in the absurdity of our condition is far from universal.

Glad to hear you are on the mend though and able to get off the couch. As unpleasant as it may be overall, there's something to be said for the mind-clearing effects of an enforced vacation.

Re: Refugee At Home

Mary Anne Shew — Mon, 19 Jan 2009 20:40:09 -0000

I didn't even know you were under the knife until the email arrived with this post. I'm so glad to hear you are on the mend and getting past the meds.

You are one hell of a writer. Your essays remind me of Ellen Goodman, Judith Viorst, and even Erma Bombeck. Seriously, pack up these essays and hie thee to an agent. That you have terrific insight is one thing; to be able to write like this about what you discover is a whole 'nother thing.

As with the others who commented, this entry stirred up a great deal for me. In the last 4 years I've lost 8 people close to me, including my mom, whose death occurred only 28 days after her lung cancer diagnosis, which came out of the blue. (Her doctor was treating her for bursitis until they finally did an xray to find the source for pain in her upper right arm.)

The confluence of all those losses put me into a panic about my own mortality. It wasn't so much that I'm afraid to go on to the next adventure, but I worried about any messes I might leave behind for others to clean up. I've spent the last year or so cleaning out my house, keeping mostly just what we use or love, letting the rest of it go. I'm writing down what my husband needs to know to shut down my business, how to move my clients to others I trust if I'm gone or incapable.

The other thought you bring to mind is how long the body takes to truly heal. A few years ago I had to have emergency gallbladder surgery, my first time ever in the hospital as a patient. (And I could go on about that experience, but I won't.) I entered the hospital about 7am on St Patrick's Day and was released 36 hours later, anesthesia barely worn off, still in shock that it happened at all. It took 36 months for my system to fully recover to the point where I no longer feel my health will collapse after the slightest brush with a sneezing person.

So allow me offer you unasked-for advice: Truly take care of yourself, and take it easy. Your body and mind have been through a lot, even if the affected part is no larger than your nose.

However, do NOT stop writing these posts :-) We need you out here waking us up to ourselves.

Re: Refugee At Home

Christian Gulliksen — Mon, 19 Jan 2009 18:13:29 -0000

You go through an uncomfortable, drug-addled recovery and your mind produces a philosophical treatise on the fragile union of body and soul.

I, on the other hand, would have gotten no further than sulking, demanding a better drug and, perhaps, having a "pretentious conversation" (do I owe you a royalty for using this phrase?) about their various pros and cons :)

With each essay I'm reminded that the pool has a deep end, too. Way to go, Handley.

Re: Refugee At Home

whatsnext — Mon, 19 Jan 2009 17:14:10 -0000

I agree with everyone who is amazed that you can write like this in the midst of all this!!

So sorry you've had such a nasty time.

I know it seems far away right now, but it'll pass and you'll be feeling sassy again - eventually.

We are, in the end effect, pretty fragile creatures, for all the bluster. There's a body lottery, and nobody escapes it. And that's why we help each other through.

Sending you a great big hug and really really hoping you'll take the time to rest before you run back to everything you do.

Re: Refugee At Home

Scott Schablow — Mon, 19 Jan 2009 16:21:45 -0000

Ann, only you could take an such an unpleasant experience and turn it into a treat to read. I can relate to what you went through. A few years ago I had cervical fusion performed on my neck. They literally slit my throat to gain access to my spine. If you ask me there is no such thing as 'minor' surgery if it's be done to you. Glad you're on the mend. I know that I'll have skin cancer issues of my own someday. I spent a lot of time sizzling in the Southern sun before sunscreen was invented.

Re: Refugee At Home

Donna Tocci — Mon, 19 Jan 2009 16:10:54 -0000

Ann - your writing is, as usual, beyond compare. I'm just so sorry you had to go through this experience. But, I'm glad you have a great support system. Don't forget, I'm not too far from you either should you need something.
Take the time to really heal, my friend.

Re: Refugee At Home

Shama Hyder — Mon, 19 Jan 2009 15:56:17 -0000

Ann, dear Ann!

I hope you are feeling better. I have never been in the hospital for an extended time nor suffered the wrath of drugs. Although Zithromicin (another pink pill! What is it with pink pills?) makes me pretty ill.

Have you ever considered writing fiction? I'd buy!

Re: Refugee At Home

Claire — Mon, 19 Jan 2009 15:54:15 -0000

Lots of reactions - but the one that inspired me to comment is on the drugs. I throw up everytime I get some type of morphine/ pain killer. (Two C-sections, cute baby, where's the bowl...). My son has the same reaction (worst was when tonsils were out, throw up where they just operated).He has had anesthesia for MRI, tonsils out, teeth pulled...I always explain that he has a bad reaction, but seem to get the answer that these are the only drugs (maybe they are?). Your column inspired me to get the records from all these spots and see if I can at least try and advocate for something different for the future...

Re: Refugee At Home

Meryl Steinberg — Mon, 19 Jan 2009 15:47:30 -0000

So sorry to hear about your ordeal with the narcotic pain killer. For your--and loved ones--future reference, please note: When I fell off my bike, I lost 3 teeth , cut my lip entirely through, and banged up my face. The swelling made the docs shudder so they prescribed a special strong pain killer. Thankfully, I had a packet of 1000c Arnica homeopathic tabs in my wallet (got it for someone else's getting surgery). By evening, swelling & pain down so much, a regular ol aspirin was working fine. Friends w/ broken legs & other surgeries have had similar effect.

Re: Refugee At Home

Trish Lambert — Mon, 19 Jan 2009 14:44:49 -0000

My happiness at seeing your latest post in my inbox this morning turned to pensiveness as I read on. I am SO glad to know you are well on the way to a total mend, only sorry to know it was a rocky road there for a while.

I went through a huge existential crisis about a year and a half ago, when my 85-year-old mother died. She had been slowly dwindling for some time, and I think my crisis had been slowly increasing in pace, until it finally hit between the eyes once she was gone.

Part of my mental journey at the time dealt with exactly what you have written about. And over time, I have come to a sort of equilbrium of acceptance. My life is well more than half over, the body and mind are showing signs of wear, and I work at being mindful about enjoying every minute of today.

Was it Mark Twain who said that youth is wasted on the young? I never gave mortality or senescence a second thought when I was flexible and ache-free!!!

Thanks for another thought-provoking foray into the life of Ann. I appreciate your willingness to share!

Trish

Re: Refugee At Home

Jeff Shattuck — Mon, 19 Jan 2009 12:38:45 -0000

You are a GREAT writer.

Wow, what a post.

And a Petty reference, heaven.

More important, your writing brought out a lot of memories I have of being in the hospital after my head injury and of the the early days of recovery. Actually, even now, I find myself slipping into "refugee" mode every once in a while.

Thank you for the words!

Jeff
www.cerebellumblues

Re: Refugee At Home

Karen — Mon, 19 Jan 2009 10:32:00 -0000

First, so glad you came through everything and are feeling better and on the mend.

I can relate as much as anyone who has shared his/her ailments (after a certain age, who can't relate?) Blessed mostly with good health and no serious issues but still having been waylaid by minor surgeries over the years (wisdom teeth and such), or recovering from childbirth or high fevers, I've realized how much the body is a shell, a vehicle for what's inside. And through that shell we can just as much experience heaven as hell, be in paradise as prison.

The physical extremes of life drive this point home for us - pleasure, and illness. Function, and dysfunction. You're millimeters away from saying as much in this post: that the body is our portal for, as spiritual beings, having the human experience. It's a limitation, necessary for the limitless divine, the infinite consciousness to experience itself in all its possibilities. And we don't get to pick and chose which part of the experience we want - we get it all. Like any coin, there are two sides.

When we're young we're barely aware the outer shell is there - it's light, it's effortless, it's not a well formed or accepted idea yet. As time passes it densifies, it gets out of alignment, it takes more maintenance and sometimes it goes out of commission to remind us who we really are.

From my own experience I'll just say being over 40 has a strange way of putting you in touch with your own mortality while simultaneously teaching you to treasure every remaining healthy, free, effortless day you have left. I hope there are many for both of us, but when they run low or run out, I also know what liberating bliss from the outer shell death will be, and I fear it not.

Re: Refugee At Home

Bdot — Mon, 19 Jan 2009 09:46:58 -0000

Glad to hear you're doing better.....

Re: Refugee At Home

Samer Forzley — Mon, 19 Jan 2009 09:14:58 -0000

Welcome back, get well.

I tore my achilles tendon in Oct, and camped out at home for more than a month. I have to say it was difficult, but taught me one thing. Patience is a virtue. Almost lost in today's go go go world. For all its worth, It was a lesson well worth learning even thought the hard way.