I’m Donna B. near the end of my middle age in Shreveport LA. You’ll learn more about me reading my posts than reading this!
UPDATE — 09-13-2009
I’ve come to realize that you won’t learn more about me reading my posts, because I censor myself too much.
For example, my posts cannot come close to relating how much I love and appreciate my family, especially my children. I can’t relate to you why I am proud of them simply because it would jeopardize their professional standing and their jobs.
(Note: in all subsequent comments, the spouses of my children will be referred to as my children. This is for simplicity’s sake as well as how I truly feel about them.)
I have children in the Army and in the National Guard. They have served in Korea, Bosnia, Saudi Arabia, Afghanistan, and Iraq. I am proud of their service and they have confided things to me that I won’t post about because I want to keep hearing these things from them. It’s not that they’ve revealed state secrets to me, it’s that their careers could possibly be diminished in some unknown way.
I have children who are lawyers. It would no doubt increase my traffic were I to relay to you some of the stories they’ve told me. Frankly, there have been some doozies and you won’t find out about them on this blog.
What I can do is direct you to mild sampling of some of the oddities that can happen in the legal profession. See Say What?!
There is also the matter of disability. It really isn’t a secret that I have a son who suffered an accident that resulted in a severe closed head injury when he’d just turned seven. He was on a ventilator for several weeks, then slowly (over a period of six to eight months) slowly came out of a coma. It’s really quite rare that people just “wake up” from a coma as it’s often portrayed on TV.
That he is alive today is the result of one man being trained in artificial respiration and getting to the scene of the accident within less than a minute. It was his heroic (in my mind, at least) efforts that kept my son alive while he was being driven to meet paramedics. The accident happened 25 miles away from any medical facility.
While actions taken by the doctors who treated my son upon his arrival at the hospital saved his life, it is with a bittersweetness not quite describable that science has now proven that some of the measures they took likely caused the death of more brain cells than necessary. I don’t blame anyone, but new discoveries in science now draw more than the ordinary attention from me.
In the 27 years since my son’s closed head injury, I’ve witnessed him being diagnosed with a goodly portion of the DSM III and IV. It is obvious to me (sometimes because his doctors actually said so) that many of his diagnoses were simply what was in style to be paid for by insurance companies at the time.
How silly is it that diagnoses might go in or out of “style”?
When my son was injured in 1983, I took his CT scan report and went to the library at the Southwestern Medical School in Dallas. I wanted to know what Wernicke’s area was… what the substantia nigra was… and what diffuse injury meant. I wanted to know why I was being told that my son would never walk or speak again. That last part I have figured out as being caustious on the part of neurologists… they certainly couldn’t guarantee anything, so they chose to guarantee nothing.
My son now walks and talks, but he does both with varying degrees of disability and pain. As a result of the library excursions, I became a consumer of scientific literature about almost everything scientific. That, unrelated to my son’s injury, has changed my worldview.
Ah… but the pain he suffers. It is FAR too often dismissed as something he must simply up with put. His paralysis is partial, which means that he suffers painful spasms. Many people have had a “charly horse” which is extremely painful, but usually short-lived. Imagine putting up with a constant one. That is what muscle spasms are – in layman’s terms.
Imagine that one of the drugs that reduces the pain of the spasms is considered addictive by the DEA. Imagine how much trouble you might have getting a prescription for this drug if you are also depressed and sometimes suicidal… BECAUSE of the unrelenting pain. Can we say Catch 22?
Enough for now. I may update this again in the future… but at least you know now why this blog is self-censoring sometimes… why I do NOT say what I really want to say. I wish I had no obligations to other people.
Yet, that’s not the whole story either. I feel a need to protect myself from the horrors of internet comments. Politically, I’m not quite sure what I am. I know I am not a Republican as defined by Democrats… but how reliable is that definition? I am not a Libertarian as defined by Libertarians, but I do find some of their ideas attractive. I also find some “liberal” ideas as attractive as I find “conservative ideas.
As a rule, I find both political “sides” comically stupid.