Childhood illness

A coworker's 13-year-old child was recently diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. This discovery will change the child's life, as well as the family's, for the foreseeable future.

Learning about this caused me to reflect on my own experience at that age; one that I haven't shared with many people, for no other reason than its impact on my life has drastically diminished since I reached adulthood. But perhaps that in itself can be reassuring to my coworker and her kid -- that after awhile, it just becomes a part of life that you don't even think about.

I'm sure everyone remembers the annual or semi-annual elementary school health screenings. Vision, hearing, lice (ew), scoliosis. Not sure what they're screening for these days. But no doubt everyone remembers "that kid" who had to be pulled out of the classroom a day or two later by the school nurse for re-screening.

7th grade. I had pink glasses then too.

Having to get re-screened for vision wasn't a big deal. In fact, it was kinda cool to get glasses. At least, I thought so. I got lots of compliments on pink squarish plastic frames that were very stylish in fourth grade. Even my bus driver noticed.

But getting pulled out of class for re-screening of anything else was horrifying. I remember we all got kind of tense and uneasy when the school nurse popped her head in the door. "Whose name is she going to call? Please don't let it be me! Please
don't let it be me!"

"I need to see Emily Cole, please."

NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!! 

The stares, the whispers (mostly, I suspect, from my fellow classmates vocalizing how happy they were it wasn't them), the teacher restoring order.

That time, I had to be called back for a scoliosis re-screening. And, oh, I had it alright. Big and bad. After the visit to our family doctor, I was referred to a spinal specialist in Minneapolis. I was 10.

Being a kid and getting diagnosed with a chronic disease is awful. Granted, mine wasn't life-threatening. But it did mean some changes were coming my way. And when you're a kid, it is earth-shaking. The most resounding question in my 10-year-old head was,"WHY ME?!"

Not my x-ray, but mine is similar.

Turns out I have double-primary idiopathic scoliosis. In layman's terms: two curves in my spine, which looks like a big S. Looking at me, you probably wouldn't know anything was wrong. But upon closer inspection, you might notice that one shoulder is higher than the other, one pants leg hangs lower than the other and that I tend to stand with all my weight on one foot.

This "hidden" disease was the cause for multiple trips to Minneapolis to the spine specialist. I missed school. Was questioned by classmates. And worst of all, I was terrified that I would need to wear a brace. Think Joan Cusack in Sixteen Candles. The ultimate humiliation.

For awhile, it looked like I wasn't going to need "treatment." My spine was border-line. Each visit to the specialist necessitated x-rays, upon which Dr. Lonstein (who had a fabulous British accent) would draw, using a slide rule and protractor, to determine the severity of the curves and whether they had worsened.

A couple years passed and my spine stayed just inside the safe zone. Until I hit a growth spurt. Then the curves went crazy. "Well, I'm afraid we need to talk about treatment." I was 13. Junior High, where it's torture just trying to act normal enough to fit in and make it through unscathed.

I saw my future flash before my eyes. I was already kind of a nerd. I liked to read and play the flute and paint my nails different colors. And now I was going to have to wear an obnoxious, uncomfortable brace for 23 out of 24 hours each day until I stopped growing. Any shred of social acceptance I had earned for myself would surely be dashed the day I returned to school.

But ---- what's this? There's an alternative to a brace? A new experimental technology called Electro Spinal Orthosis, or ESO for short? And this meant no brace??? SIGN ME UP!

Like this, but on the right side only

And, seeing me on the verge of tears at the idea of wearing a brace, my parents did sign me up. An ESO was basically an electrode muscle contractor. Yes, not unlike those silly "workout your abs without doing a single sit-up" contraptions. Two electrodes were positioned on my back and would contract the muscles at intervals, essentially pushing my spine over and, in theory, preventing the curves from worsening. Since most adolescent growing happens during sleep, the thought was that the muscle contractions / spinal correction would also be most effective during sleep.

So, each night, my mom would slap the electrodes on my back, which had long wires that connected to a control box that I would then turn on and attach to the side of my bed. And my back muscles would contract all night long. Every night. For 1,095 days (give or take).

I was allowed to skip a night here and there, for the occasional sleepover. But otherwise, the electrodes accompanied me on family vacations, to long weekends at relatives', everywhere.

I experienced several fitful and sleepless nights at first. And I think I can speak for my mom when I say it took her awhile to get the hang of positioning and attaching the electrodes every night. But eventually, I got used to it and what started out as an ordeal became a 5 minute addition to my sleeping and waking routines.

Physical effects of scoliosis

For me, the treatment was successful. I think the curves maybe worsened a degree or two during that time, but it was considered acceptable. However, ESO was discontinued as a treatment option shortly after I stopped using it. The research had determined that users experienced mixed results and it was not a reliable method of treatment. I'm just glad it worked for me.

As an adult, I suffer from periodic neck, lower back and hip issues, for which I see a chiropractor. I do a lot of back stretches, which have become second nature. I still have a hard time wearing certain styles of dresses, and my pants will never be even at the cuff, which is frustrating. But, all in all, I consider myself pretty healthy.

My "illness" didn't scar me for life. But I do think it gave me a perspective that I wouldn't have had otherwise. And while each person's situation is different and each experience is unique, it is my hope that the similarities can be reassuring in the end. All we can do is experience it, learn from it, live our lives and in the process, try to help others do the same.

Creative surge

The weeks leading up to Christmas were a frenzy of glass, flux and solder as I tried to keep up with orders for leaded glass snowflakes. I made 27 snowflakes this year, compared to 11 last year. This meant going into debt for a time, after buying supplies and waiting for people to pay me. (I might do things a little differently next year.)

I really love making unique glass creations, but the pressure of cranking them out en masse this year got to me a bit. I was happy with each of the snowflakes I made, but at points it felt more like a burden than an enjoyable creative experience, especially when debt entered the picture.

But now that the frenzy has subsided, the debt is gone and I have a whole week off (thanks to the generosity of my employer!), I have been experiencing a renewed sense of creativity, purely for the fun of it.

I put together a piece made of tiny glass scraps left over from a Christmas commission. They were too small and plentiful to foil and solder, so I glued them together. The entire piece is roughly 5x7. (I still need to clean it up and put a frame around it.)

The other night, I spent some time doodling, which I haven't done in months. I have a dozen or so doodles similar to this one. I had forgotten how relaxing it is to just lose myself in a doodle!

I've also gotten back to my harp, which has been woefully neglected since the Sanders show ended. Robb and my poor neighbor downstairs had to listen to me tune it for about an hour. (Sorry guys!)

Yesterday, I started working on a glass piece that has been in the "pattern state" for going on a couple years now. I really love this design and have a hunch that maybe some others will too... so I'll probably be making it a few times over. But I just might keep the first iteration for myself.

After all the pre-holiday artistic mass production, I'm somewhat relieved to know that my creative spark still exists. In addition to the poppies project, I plan to do some baking this week, and maybe a drawing.

I guess I'll be finishing out 2010 with a surge of creativity -- and ringing in 2011 the same way!

Merry Birthday

A week from today I will turn *cough*-ty *cough*. Darn this wretched chest cold!

Yes, I was born on a Friday, Christmas Eve, early in the morning (5:51? Mom, help me out here) and I'm quite certain there was snow on the ground, if not falling from the sky. I wasn't due until a few days later, but clearly I decided I'd had enough of the ovarian bastille.

And thus began years of Merry Birthdays.

Honestly though, I have to give my parents huge kudos. As a kid, they always celebrated my birthday on my birthday (we celebrated Christmas on the 25th). My grandparents and aunt and cousins would come over and we'd have cake and nuts and cookies and punch and the grownups would drink coffee and everyone would sing "Happy Birthday" and I'd open birthday cards and presents wrapped in birthday paper. And to me, it felt like the same celebration my brothers got. Well, except for maybe the tree in the living room. And the poinsettias.

Kids I knew talked about the post-birthday "let down," when the cake had been eaten, the presents had all been unwrapped and played with and everyone had gone home, and they had to wait until... *SIGH* ...Christmas to get presents again.

Let down? What let down??? I GOT TWO DAYS IN A ROW OF PRESENTS! GLORIOUS MYSTERIES WRAPPED IN PAPER AND TIED WITH RIBBON! TWICE IN TWO DAYS!

Who cares if I never got a birthday party with my friends because my birthday was on the biggest national holiday of the year and they already had plans with their families and our driveway and road were usually snowed in anyway and celebrating my half birthday wasn't really an option since everyone was on summer vacation!?!?!

Seriously, that second day of presents was premium. It didn't make any difference to me that it was the motherload of gifts for the entire year. It just meant I started counting down to my birthday and Christmas a little earlier than most kids. Like, in January.

Often throughout my life, people have -- and still do -- comment, "Aw, Christmas baby. Poor thing. Merry Birthday!"

So original.

But really, I don't mind being a Christmas baby. I haven't known anything else. All the important people in my life have acknowledged the day of my birth apart from the birth of Jesus. And I wouldn't even mind if they didn't! I will happily share the day and the spotlight. Only as an adult did I start to get "combo" presents, and I will occasionally get a holiday card with "Happy Birthday too" written inside. But I don't mind. Much.

When I think how easily my parents could have lumped my day in with Christmas, the more I appreciate the fact that they didn't, and to the contrary, tried really hard to make sure it was a special day for me. (Except one year when I got a riding horse -- the kind with springs -- for both birthday and Christmas, and it was the most favorite toy I ever got in my LIFE and I totally didn't mind and I named him Silver, like the Lone Ranger's horse. H'yaaah!)

So Merry Birthday to me and Baby Jesus and all others who share the day. It's not a bad one to have.

James Orchard Halliwell's adaptation of the familiar English nursery rhyme:

Monday's child is fair of face,

Tuesday's child is full of grace,

Wednesday's child is full of woe,

Thursday's child has far to go,

Friday's child is loving and giving,

Saturday's child works hard for a living,

But the child who is born on Christmas Day,

Is bonny and blithe and good and gay.

A "White Christmas" review worth reading

The Richmond.com review of Barksdale Theatre's production of Irving Berlin's White Christmas got me revved up. I disagreed with many of the reviewer's observations, several of which I thought were rather absurd, as I voiced in my recent BLAHG post.

However, this morning, I was thrilled to read a review on RVANews.com that FINALLY accurately describes the show that I saw a few weekends ago. I hope you'll take time to read the whole thing, but here is a snippet:

Kevin Earley & Freddie Kimmel - Photo by Aaron Sutten

You’ve seen the classic film ... And this season, you’re cordially invited to rediscover the vintage spirit at Barksdale Theatre with, if you can believe it, even more spectacular song and dance numbers than the film’s Golden Era producers saw fit to include ... 

Almost everything out of [the cast members'] mouths had the house rolling, and by the time the grand finale swoops in with the most elaborate costumes yet, you’re so amped up from the jokes, the reunions, the glitter, and the talent, you’ll fall gratefully into the holiday classic to end all holiday classics, “White Christmas” ... 

[T]he whole production is a wistful reminder that, in the Fifties, shows were just so dang elegant, comedy was so uncluttered, the clothes, good lord, the clothes. And, with its historic feel and intimate setting, the Empire Theatre is just the place to make the whole thing pop ... 

White Christmas does exactly what it sets out to do: provide you with a couple of hours jam-packed with holiday festivities. The show’s lone disappointment occurs when the lights come up and it’s time to face 2010 again.

Thank you, Susan Howson, for your wonderful description of what, no doubt, is in the heart of every Richmonder who sees this production, including mine.

  

Thankful

It is altogether too easy to forget how blessed I am.

I am sitting here now in my warm & cozy apartment in Richmond's beautiful Fan neighborhood, sipping freshly ground coffee, getting ready to hit the road to spend Thanksgiving in Maryland with my cousin's family......... and marveling at my fortune.

I have NOTHING to complain about.

I felt a little differently when I moved here five years ago. I didn't know a soul. I didn't have a job. I lived in an isolated part of town. I was terribly unhappy, and I sunk into a depression. Everyone back home in Minnesota kept assuring me that in time, I would find a job, friends, my place in the community... happiness. I was skeptical.

But they were right.

Over the last few years, I have come to love Richmond. I have a wonderful job with talented colleagues at two top-notch theatres, and two of the best bosses I've ever had the pleasure of working for. I've made some life-long friends and found a church whose mission I believe in. I met perhaps the biggest blessing of all, Robbie Jones, whose friendship and support helped me through some very difficult times and whose love I have come to cherish.

Of course I am grateful for a multitude of other things: a loving family, health, living in a free country, a roof over my head, clean water to drink, good food to eat, a car to drive, the list could go on for pages. And maybe it should. I am guilty of forgetting how wealthy I am, and when I stop to think about how good I've got it, I am humbled.

"Happy Thanksgiving" -- happily giving thanks for all the blessings in my life. And if you are reading this, be assured you are one of them!

A "White Christmas" review rebuttal

Increasingly, the holidays seem to bring out the Grinch in people.

I was reminded of the Grinch Phenomenon when I read Liz Jewett's review on Richmond.com of Barksdale Theatre's production of Irving Berlin's White Christmas.

Ms. Jewett is a thoughtful and eloquent writer and I often agree with her reviews. And while I didn't disagree with some of her observations in this one, I believe she inappropriately and needlessly inserted her own Grinchy commentary by attacking elements of the show that do not necessitate comment. Like the fact that a Christmas show is typically cheery and upbeat. No-brainer, right?

Well.....

Illustration by Robert Meganck

"'White Christmas' [is] an attempt at a timeless, feel good Christmas story. Yet instead of timeless, the play merely feels static and stubbornly anachronistic, largely because of its insistence on 'old-fashioned' cheer to the point of a sugar coma.

"There’s a world of honest, human emotion that 'White Christmas' could have tapped into. It’s a play about two veterans after all, men who have seen death and violence, only to come home to a society that honors them more for being famous than for having fought. Yet any hint at a darker world that isn’t bedecked in tinsel is smothered in a holiday spirit so aggressive it practically berates the audience into following along."

It seems Ms. Jewett might be expecting some coal in her stocking this year.

Um........................................................... 

IT'S IRVING BERLIN'S WHITE CHRISTMAS!

Bing Crosby, Rosemary Clooney -- remember?!

This production isn't supposed to be the holiday musical version of "Saving Private Ryan." It is supposed to be a festive, celebratory occasion where the characters are intentionally forgetting about death, violence and that "darker world" by singing, dancing, and romancing. Punishing a famous holiday classic for not being serious enough seems a bit harsh.

I sat in the audience the same night Ms. Jewett did, next to two patrons whose preferred venue is Hanover Tavern. However, they enjoyed every single moment of White Christmas at the Empire Theatre, and I frequently heard murmurs of "wow," "fantastic," "outstanding." I'm fairly confident that I can speak for all three of us when I say we didn't feel one bit berated. To the contrary, we let the holiday spirit fall upon us of our own accord.

Perhaps the most Grinch-like sentiments came at the end of Ms. Jewett's review:

"...holiday spirit only works if it's coming from a genuine place, an honest place, and 'White Christmas,' despite the best efforts of all involved, ultimately chooses fake snow over the real thing. And it insults the audience by assuming they won’t know the difference."

This is metaphoric, but only to a degree. She is, of course, making reference to the snow that falls on the audience at the end of the show. It is not confetti, but more like dime-sized foamy puffs that evaporate before they hit the floor. I (and everyone around me) thought it was magical. I heard one patron say, "It's snowing in the Empire!"

Did they think it was real snow? Of course not. Did they feel that the show's positive energy and Christmas spirit were disingenuous or contrived? Doubtful. Did they leave the theatre that night, thinking they had seen an outstanding Broadway caliber feel-good holiday production? Absolutely.

Photo by Aaron Sutten

Christmas is about giving and sharing, a time when people come together and celebrate, when lightheartedness and kindness prevail. It is the one time of year when we have permission to forget about the ugliness in our world and instead, focus on its beauty.

If this show gives people the chance to escape the pressures and demands of their daily lives; if it gives them a pleasant distraction from the reality of loss and hardship; if it brings back fond memories of holidays spent with loved ones.... then I believe Barksdale's production of White Christmas is successfully embodying the spirit of the holiday season, and I sincerely believe the majority of Richmonders who see this show would enthusiastically agree.

The good news is that even the Grinch discovered the meaning behind the hoopla of Christmas. So certainly, Ms. Jewett will as well.

He puzzled and puzzled 

till his puzzler was sore. 

Then the Grinch thought of something 

he hadn't before! 

Maybe Christmas, he thought, 

doesn't come from a store. 

Maybe Christmas... perhaps... 

means a little bit more! 

And what happened then?

Well, in Whoville they say

that the Grinch's small heart 

grew three sizes that day. 

And then -- the true meaning 

of Christmas came through, 

and the Grinch found the strength 

of *ten* Grinches, plus two! 

Two Nights in Rodanthe

"Our" house

Robbie and I had the fortune and pleasure of spending last weekend at a lovely beach house in Rodanthe, NC. The house belongs to my coworker Tracy's family and she was gracious enough to invite us rowdy theatre-types to experience the magic of the Outer Banks.

And it was magical.

The drive down was about as pleasant as any 4-hour car ride can be. Tracy, Lucas, Stacie, BC, Robb & I rode together in Tracy's minivan. The road to the house had been closed intermittently throughout the day, due to washout from waves remnant of a Noreaster. Lucas was driving (in the dark) when we got to the beach road. The first sign said, "Water on Road. Proceed with Caution." About a half mile ahead of that was another sign: "WATER ON ROAD. PROCEED WITH EXTREME CAUTION." (I guess they really meant it that time.)

It was quite an adventure plunging through several inches of water, in the dark, with fog, particularly when faced with oncoming traffic and water covering the entire road. But Lucas demonstrated his expert driving skills, which he no doubt acquired from his years touring the country with Theatre IV. We all arrived safe and sound and thus began our weekend.

View from the house

The weather was cooperative, the beach was beautiful, the house was spacious and comfortable. We all took turns preparing meals and each one was delicious. Robbie made gumbo on Saturday night that was one of the most delicious dinners I've ever put in my mouth. We played cards and Catch Phrase and were also able to enjoy moments of solitude to read, sit in the hot tub, or just relax and enjoy the salty air and the sound of the waves.

But the most magical thing that happened during the trip: we all got along.

L to R: Lucas, BC, Stacie, me, Robb, Jonah, Carlos, Sara, Tracy

No arguing, no bickering, no pouting, no sulking, no fuming, no yelling (except for strategic moments during Catch Phrase) -- it was truly magical. I don't know if it was because we all were so in need of a get-away that we were experiencing some sort of collective euphoria, or perhaps there is just something about the ocean that sweeps in the good energy and washes away the bad. Whatever the reason, we laughed and ate and drank and enjoyed every single minute in Rodanthe.

I will truly remember that weekend for a long, long time to come.