Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

The newsletter devoted to spreading love and cultural awareness around the world.

June 23, 2007

Today’s Stories

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 BAD MORNING BLUES

By David Wainland

A few days ago, perhaps a week, I awoke to a new but suspiciously familiar feeling. I have Crohn’s disease, one of those illnesses that you cannot talk about in mixed company. In past years, for most victims, this was life threatening, but today medicine has advanced enough to keep us alive. It is a big, but private club. Even amongst those of us who suffer under the relentless pressure of Crohn’s there is a certain code of silence.

We have organizations like the Crohn’s and Colitis Foundation and therapy groups, though no one really talks about the symptoms.  Even the most jaded of gastroenterologists hesitate to ask. There is no real cure and often times no relief. Medicine works one day and then stalls on the next. Crohn’s is an autoimmune deficiency disease that attacks the colon.

In October 2004 while celebrating our fortieth anniversary and renewal of vows, I began the worst flare up of my life. We were in New Orleans and I found my days and nights studded by a parade of bathroom visits. There is no safe arena for a victim during a flare up period.  I had to gauge my steps by the distance to the nearest lavatory. The first thing I did when entering a restaurant was to search out and inspect the men’s room. In a movie theater, I needed to sit on the aisle and I lived in fear of long lines.

From then until late 2005 I journeyed from doctor to doctor, part in search of relief and part because of our failed American medical programs. Time after time, they told me that my insurance was longer accepted or they referred me to a doctor who was not taking new patients. Here I was, only one-step ahead of embarrassment and there were times I lost. I surely did not need a referral to see a doctor who could not be bothered to see me.

I did the 2005 Delray Affair, a major art show, in my grandfather’s underwear, I wore Depends, but to my wife’s and my own amazement, I still did the show. 

I found ways to survive the embarrassments. I carried extra underwear, rolls of paper towels and even toilet tissue in my car. Under the seat, I stowed air spray and baby wipes. My wife learned to get out of my way in a hurry, but was always there when I needed her. I determined I would not allow this monster to keep me from a normal life. None of my friends patronized me; instead, they helped me at every turn.

Life is too sweet to lock myself away.

The next doctor I visited was the blessing I asked for. He listened and worked with me until he broke the hold Crohn’s had upon me. For the next year and a half, I was in remission. I took a lot of medicine, some very expensive, much of it experimental, in different combinations and finally they worked. For eighteen months, I was free of my monkey.

October of last year they admitted me to West Boca Hospital for an emergency gall bladder operation.

I will take a gall bladder operation over a life with Crohn’s any day.

Even though he was not the doctor of record, my gastro man visited me every day. He is good man and a concerned human being.

Three months ago, he had his own problem. You see he also has the disease and had to have part of his intestines removed. A week after his operation his nurse called and told me the doctor would not be practicing for a time and in any event, he would no longer be accepting my insurance plan.

Friday morning I awoke to a full-fledged flare up and now I must go shopping for another referral and yet another gastroenterologist.

It was a bad morning and for a time I had the blues, but I will endure because I have been there before and I have to.

Email: david@davidwainland.com

Blog:   http://360.yahoo.com/davidwainland

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 This I Believe #3
by Bill Walker

I hear we are building a fence along the border to Mexico. This makes me wonder a bit about how wise this great cost of money is? All through history a nation, a country, a city builds walls, forts and lines of defense. General George Patton of World War Two fame said these are monuments to stupidity. There is ways to go over, through or
around such.

If you remember after World War One, France built a line of defense near the Germany border. It was said no one could get through, it was to stop any attack from Germany ever again. The guns were placed to blast any army to bits that would come that way. The Generals knew better then attack it. They marched through Holland and Belgium and
went around it. The soldiers setting in the fort were trapped like rats in a cage. The guns were fixed, and could only fire toward Germany.

The Germans were no smarter in building their own lines of defense. They too built and never thought of the go around, over, and come in from the rear. Monuments to stupidity!

This fence will prove no better, this I believe. A fence, a locked gate, a lock on the door, does one thing. It will keep an honest person out. that is about all that those fences will stop.

You need a guard dog to do the job. Have you ever walked near a fence around a
junk yard? Why do you think the dogs inside is called junk yard dogs? Those have a job to do. Those eyes are watching every step you take. You may break the lock, you may climb the fence, you might even cut a hole and get in. Well your trouble just started. You meet up with guard dog better known as junk yard dog, and junk yard dog likes
leg, rump or what ever kind of meat you got, and it is yours he is going to chew on.

Where is our junk yard dogs? Well for some strange reason we have taken the teeth away from our dogs. We put ours in prison for stopping the ones crossing the border. Stop one, and the poor dog gets slapped with time in jail, and a fine. Better not hurt one breaking
in or kill one breaking in, might get sent up the river for a real long time.

Now that is one heck of a way to treat your junk yard dog that was doing what he was trained to do. I don't blame the junk yard dog for looking the other way, and let the border be over run.  This I believe. You can build a fence, you can build a wall or you
can build a fort. If you forget to put a junk yard dog in place and let him do what he knows best, your money is down the drain. There are ways of going over, around, or even cut your way in. You need a junk yard dog with teeth that isn't in fear of jail time for
doing his work.

This I Believe.
Tinker and Poo; The Boys Write
http://www.iuniverse.com/bookstore/book_detail.asp?&isbn=0-595-35741-5

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Poetry Corner

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Summer Joy

Cynthia Groopman

Summer is indeed a wonderful season of great joy,

,

Bringing a vacation of elation to every school girl and boy.

.

Days are often carefree and often quiet and lazy,

Weather is humid, hot and hazy.

Children rump, jump and mirthfully play,

Gleefully shouting no school for 70 days.

Swimming in the big pool,

A glass of iced tea or lemonade

to keep them refreshed and cool.

Visiting the ball park or taking a trip with the family,

Summer brings fun, smiles and festivity.

Cynthia Groopman

cynthia.Groopman@verizon.net

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Awe

  Cynthia Groopman

Awe embraces me with feelings profound and strong,

When I hear the joyful birds mirthful morning songs.

Springtime glory,

Evokes a truly beautiful awe story.

A new baby enters the world,

Expressions of deep awe,

like a budding flower beautifully enfolds.

Stars glowing in the velvety sky on a clear night,

Is indeed awe full of love and precious sight.

When we receive an answer to prayer,

Awe and gratitude are ours to cherish and to share.

Awe, you adorn my life with feelings of amazing majesty,

Filling my cup of life with happiness, and inner serenity.

 Cynthia Groopman

cynthia.Groopman@verizon.net

 ~**~**~

An Optimistic Philosophy Of Life
Cynthia Groopman

Although storm clouds may obscure the sunlight abiding in my life's sky,
I always try to be happy and seldom do I cry.
Despite disappointments that come my way,
I do not frown and let sadness spoil my day.
In back of every cloud, there is a silver lining, as we all know,
And amid life's challenges and burdens, I nevertheless bask in the
optimistic radiant sunshine glow.
To me everyday of my story is a drama that elegantly unfolds,
And I know that at the end of every majestic rainbow reigns a
priceless pot of gold.
In each lovely melody of the hummingbird's enchanting song,
God is telling me to think positively and to be courageous and strong.
For despite darkness, terror and fright,
God will guide me with His reassuring and comforting beacon of Divine
precious light. And yes dear friends, the beacon will brightly shine
allowing me to navigate the obstacles in my tunnel of life,
And all will be blissful, peaceful devoid of anxiety and strife.
For there will be a spectacular sunrise with hope for a better tomorrow,
And with a renewed spirit of glittering sunshine, I shall be eternally
happy, despite burdens and sorrow.
 
Cynthia Groopman

cynthia.Groopman@verizon.net

Copyright ©2004 Cynthia L. Groopman
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As Rain Clouds Roll In
Cynthia Groopman

Sunshine and blue skies,
Were a magnificent treat and a welcome surprise.
Beautiful days we had were three,
As the sunshine beamed radiantly.
Then, the breeze of rain,
Began to unravel the bad weather chain.
Rain clouds began to march in,
Like an errant top, they began to dance and spin.
Dashing and chasing the sunshine away,
The rain clouds changed the weather scene in a negative way.
Rain will soon begin to pour down,
As the blue sky has a cloudy face and a big doleful frown.
But just wait patiently  when in a few day's time,
The sky will rejoice as the beaming sun,
Will again glow and sparkle and shine.
Cynthia Groopman
Cynthia.Groopman@verizon.net
Copyright ©2006   

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