Look at me go... part two

I am honoured to be a guest blogger on Can't Quit Learning, Faye Reineberg Holt's blog on writing. Please check out the post and all the other great information that can be found on the site. Thanks Faye.
http://fayereinebergholt.wordpress.com/2011/03/28/guest-ellen-kelly-on-lifelong-learning

Think Lavender - Part Three

Wear purple on Saturday to show your support.

Here's something to think about - it applies to families living with a vast and varied number of life-altering circumstances.

http://www.our-kids.org/Archives/Holland.html

Invisible Woman

So this morning I am playing Fantastic Four. My grandson says I can be the Invisible Woman – I’m a woman, she’s a woman so it makes sense to him and, I am thinking, how appropriate is that? I am feeling invisible a lot these days.

“So?” I ask. “What can I do if I’m the Invisible Woman?”

You can be invisible, he tells me. You can make invisible boulders. But you can’t lift them. You have to get Thing to move them for you. He explains that Thing has superpowers and is much stronger than I am.

My brother, apparently, is the Human Torch, a somewhat hideous apparition that can burst into flames and fight with fire and super strength.

Then he drops another bombshell. I am married to someone called Mr. Fantastic. Fantastic, I think. Mr. Fantastic and Invisible Me, pretty much the story of my life.

But that’s being a little harsh and not entirely fair. It’s difficult being married to a person whose chosen career garners attention, often unwanted, but there just the same. It’s difficult carving out a personal visibility while standing in the shadow of circumstance but I managed. Mr. Fantastic and I found a balance that works.

And then I became a woman “of a certain age”. Receptionists, sales persons and check out clerks call me dear. I cringe. Others talk around me and pat my hand. My grey hair stands on end.

Society in general treats women over sixty like generic geriatrics and I resent it. I am not feeble, I am not stupid and I am not absent minded – at least no more than I’ve ever been – so at what point did I become relegated to the back of the bus? Sixty seems to be a significant turning point.

Call me crone, call me bitch, call me wise woman, but don’t call me dear. I’m not answering. Oh, and next time I want to be She Hulk or Cat Woman.

Just one of those days...

I pick up kindergarten grandson at 11:08 each day but I like to get there early and park as close as I can. This morning, it is drizzling slightly when I leave home so I wear shoes – getting a bit tired of the boots and, well, yesterday it was spring.

I park on the street beside the school, which is situated in an unholy weather vortex where, no kidding, the wind can blow, and does, from all directions at once. I open my novel and begin to read, look up a few minutes later and notice that it is snowing – heavily. Still fifteen minutes until bell time so I go back to reading.

A few minutes later, I notice that there is a blizzard blowing outside. It gets worse and worse until I can’t see the school, can’t see the houses across the street. At the height of this sudden blizzard, it is time to walk to the kindergarten door. The sidewalk, bare when I pulled up, is covered with at least three inches of slush. Wet snow whips in my face and down my neck. There are no treads whatsoever on the bottoms of my shoes.

Down I go. The only thing worse than falling down in public is hurting yourself falling down in public so I am thankful for one small blessing as I stand, unhurt except for my pride. The street is lined with new SUVs, which, unlike my Buick, scream young and yuppie. The herd of parents, mostly young moms in their trendy jackets and lulu lemons, watches me brush myself off and trudge to the door, my knees and hands soaked and muddy. (Must say that a couple did ask me if I was okay.)

Anyway, the sky is clearing as kindergarten boy and I walk back to the car, him chatting about his day, me being extremely careful not to re-enact my entrance scene. By the time child is buckled in and I start the car, the sun is breaking through. By the time we get home, the deck is almost dry.

So, what’s up with that anyway, I wonder as I rub my bruised knees? If I was inclined toward paranoia, I could feel a little picked on today.

Think Lavender - Part Two

March is Epilepsy Awareness month. This cause is near and dear to my heart.

Let me introduce you to my precious grandson. You would like him if you knew him – he’s a spunky 5 year old with big brown eyes, crazy hair and more determination than I’ve ever seen.

He was a happy, healthy, energetic and seemingly completely normal little boy until, on March 27^th, 2008, he suffered a lengthy seizure and was taken to hospital. Two weeks later he had another and was subsequently seen by paediatric neurology at Alberta Children’s Hospital.

Many unpleasant tests over the next few months followed, medications were changed and adjusted, and that September, he was diagnosed with Myoclonic Astatic Epilepsy (sometimes called Doose Syndrome) which is considered a catastrophic form of childhood epilepsy because of its resistance to drugs and therefore its poor prognosis and its degenerative effect on cognitive ability.

Since that ghastly day in March, he has had hundreds of seizures which have included several different types – multiple seizure types are a characteristic of MAE. He was often tired, disoriented, and bruised as a result of what is happening to him and the drugs he was taking.

Needless to say, this diagnosis and its implications have devastated his parents, his brothers, his grandparents and his extended family and friends. His parents struggle to keep life on an even keel, advocate for and educate others about MAE, and cope with each day as it comes. The little guy, thankfully, doesn’t remember what happens to him when he seizes, and sometimes forgets other things as well. We can only pray that his struggle will eventually end leaving him with minimal damage and a chance for a normal life.

Currently, his seizures are controlled by medication but the ongoing problems caused by the seizures or the medication or a combination of both make his life difficult. He is fragile, has a tremor which affects his fine motor skills, left side muscle weakness, hot and cold sensitivity, and a challenged immune system.

He also has some interesting quirks and behaviours that for the most part, keep us smiling. He is smart, kind, sensitive, patient and very articulate. His wonderful personality shines through bringing joy to those who love him. No one knows what his future holds but if hope, love and determination can move mountains, then as this little guy grows up, he will be a force to be reckoned with.

Epilepsy is not selective. It pays no attention to gender, race, culture or socio-economic background. Some cases are caused by head injury or congenital defects, and there is a hereditary factor, but in roughly 60% of cases, no cause can be determined. For further information, contact www.epilepsy.ca or www.epilepsycalgary.com

Look at me go...

Who would have thunk it - I am going to be a guest blogger. Faye Holt, good friend and fellow writer, has asked me to write a piece for her blog - something about writing, distance education, life-long learning.

How hard can this be? I know about this stuff. I'm a writer, I've taken advantage of distance education courses, learned from them and helped administer them, and I'm old and still learning so that must constitute life-long learning, right?

So, how do I turn my usual navel-gazing into writing that is coherent, informative and intelligent enough to be posted on a blog intended to be educational? I've been working on it and it's rough. The more I write about what I think I know, the more I realize how little I really know. My writing is going in circles, ever increasingly boring circles.

So I ask myself, how do I spice this up a little? My writer's sense is to use shorter, choppier sentences - builds tension, you know. Discover motivation - why am I doing this, what am I afraid of, what do I want more than anything? What is keeping me from reaching my goal? Sigh... It works for fiction.

Or maybe, as some writers do, I could throw in some obscenity, drop the f-bomb, make disparaging remarks about local politicians, confess some long-buried secret. That would, for sure, get the readers' attention, but where would I go from there? I should be imparting crone wisdom with profound, encouraging and inspiring words. I need to connect with the readers be it about writing, life-long learning or distance education.

Do I think I have something that is important/intelligent/inspiring to say? Maybe not. What I know for sure is that nobody can teach someone how to write - you learn by doing it, over and over and over - it's a life-long learning experience. And the only way to get better is to put AIS and stare at a blank page or flickering computer screen until words pour out of your fingers and onto the page/keys. And I know that most of what I write won't be worth reading, but buried in the pile is the pony - the little gems of wisdom that lead to an idea, which in turn leads to a story and for that I'm forever grateful.

Please visit Faye's blog at http://fayereinebergholt.wordpress.com/ to read her wise words about writing, history, life-long learning and photos. My guest piece will appear at the end of March.

Think Lavender

March is Epilepsy Awareness month. Approximately 0.6% of Canadians have this condition. It's life-changing for the person who has the condition and it's scary to watch. Information is the key to understanding and compassion. Learn more at http://www.epilepsy.ca/