Thumbs Up

We arrived at the hospital in the pre-dawn hours to find a waiting room jammed full of patients whose arrival time was clearly before our 6AM call—talk about cruel. The great thing about the early arrival time was that the drive from Jersey to Manhattan at 4:30 AM is pretty much traffic free. And really, the day’s proceedings went just as smoothly.

Notes from DG in the OR as told to VDB:

How many doctors does it take to fix a thumb?
It seems that Dr. Melone, my surgeon, travels with a posse of 3 hand surgery deputies. I reiterated my medical history to two of them pre-surgery, asked a few questions. I’d already donned my attractive gown and robe—why can’t they make those things match, although that might just make them double ugly. Then there was the anesthesiologist, two surgical nurses—I had a very well attended thumb.

When I walked into the OR, one of the young scalpels was engaged in a hot conversation with an OR nurse about the prior night’s episode of the Real World. The other nurse said she was not of the MTV generation and worked on getting me strapped onto the table—not one of my favorite positions—and settled under a warm blankie.

While they prepped my hand with the betadine manicure, the conversation turned to which franchises would be the best to own. Guess it’s a sign of the times—even doctors are trying to line up their side gig. One said Subway ‘cause they had the formerly fat guy who sandwiched himself to thinness. Someone else suggested Cinnabun—guess that’s for when Jared has a relapse. I said those buns smell better than they taste. That’s when they upped my anesthesia—I don’t remember much after that until the recovery room, when I first encountered my hand strapped to its new furniture. The good news is that it really didn’t hurt too bad and I was back in civvies and out by noon.

Thanks for the prayers and well wishes and I’m working on being back in top typing form soon.

Notes from VDB in the OR Waiting Room:

I had no posse of supplicant, surgical residents, no generation spanning nurses. There was no snappy conversation about investment strategy. I had no drugs either. What I had was a room full of about to be patients and their anxious or obnoxious designated persons—or the morning traffic report on TV which was focusing on a sign that looked like it was going tumble onto the highway during rush hour. It didn’t.

So I did what any self respecting writer would do in similar circumstances—I pretended to read while actually secretly observing the folks surrounding me. Believe me a hospital waiting room is a great equalizer—random diversity at it’s best and most basic. Voices (whiny, gravelly, loud), accents (some identifiable others not so), attitudes (snarly, obliging), wardrobes (mostly What Not to Wear Anywhere), tics (a nose picker and a hair chewer), hair styles (I’m not even going there), laughs (nervous, cackling), snores (from a morbidly obese woman who went out to smoke every 20 minutes or so, then told our room monitor that she was going to check her blood sugar —duh?!) and sneezes (itty bitty cartoon like). I was making mental notes about family groupings, couples, parents, friends, those who were alone (was someone really coming for them or were they lying about “their person” showing up later?) All of this data collection was in the name of research of course—for future characters in future books (and you ask where we get ideas!) I wasn’t being nosy—well maybe just a little bit.

And I did read. I finally finished Middlesex right before I was told by a haughty hospital bureaucrat wearing purple scrubs that I would be allowed to visit Ms Grant in recovery, but for 10 minutes only. “Don’t make me have to pull you away from the bedside!” he warned.
Was he kidding? But he didn’t know how much time we spend together. My 10 minutes would be quite enough thanks. All I needed to see was that DG was fine and that they had operated on the correct appendage on the correct hand so I could make the appropriate assuring phone calls to her loved ones...which I did.

Half hour later we (thumb furniture and all) were in my car heading back to Jersey.
I did have to buckle her seatbelt for her.

The Big O...no not that...O

Well—we’re headed for yet another exciting experience tomorrow! Donna’s having an "O"PERATION--outpatient hand surgery and Virginia’s the designated driver and responsible person—which could be the beginning of a joke, but isn’t---this time

Back in November, Donna fell-tripped going up the stairs at her dermatologist’s office and smacked her left hand on the marble steps to break her fall. OUCH!!! It plumped up like a Ballpark frank. They gave her an ice pack at the skin doc’s, examined her epidermis and sent her on her way. She dosed herself with Aleve, and returned to work. After all, we had a deadline! And for the next two months she typed with nine fingers or more accurately eight fingers, one thumb, and one swollen appendage that looked more like a big fat sausage than a thumb. It didn’t work too well either.

We went on book tour, had parties, signed a heap of copies of Gotta Keep on Tryin’ and finally, two weeks ago she saw a doctor, because it still wasn’t right.

Virginia said, “It’s probably broken and now it’s healed and they’ll have to re-break it so it sets right.”

Donna said, “It was probably a bad sprain and I’ll need to go to physical therapy.”

The Doctor said, “You have damaged the tendon, it will get worse, I have to operate.”

Tomorrow (Thursday) is operation day. We’re heading for the hospital at 5AM—but right now she’s got another couple of hours before the “nothing by mouth” rule kicks in—so we think it’s time for a glass of wine.

We’ll keep you posted...

Together Again!

We survived last weekend! You probably already guessed that we would. It wasn’t easy, but we did it!! Donna’s events in Galveston with Sisters Sippin’ Tea went off without a hitch as did Virginia’s in Jacksonville.

It certainly felt odd—almost like the other one was still there, like the phantom limb feeling that amputees experience. So while talking we had to resist the urge to turn to the right (Donna) or left (Virginia) for either our “straight woman” or the punch line. But it seems we managed to be able to speak in complete sentences and be reasonably coherent—so we hear tell from those who attended our panels. We signed books in our usual spot, over our individual name on the title page—leaving room in case the reader might run into the other of us sometime in the future. It looked a little strange to us, but apparently not to anyone else!

Donna got to hang out not only with SST’s from all over the country who gathered for their annual reunion, but also with the wonderful Jewel Parker Rhodes (Yellow Moon—August 2008, Vodoo Dreams, Voodoo Season). And Virginia partied with R.L. Stine (Goosebumps series) and Jane O’Connor author of the Fancy Nancy children’s books—and yes, there were adult authors in Jacksonville too, but these two writers definitely impressed VDB..

We each kept up with our own hotel room keys (and remembered our room numbers) which are tasks that we normally share (and have built in backup for—“Turn left off the elevator—it’s room 414, not 441. That was the last hotel.”) when we’re on the road together. But we were really happy to see each other when we met up in the Atlanta airport on Sunday for our flight to Washington. Our flights landed at Hartsfield within 15 minutes of each other and in our separate arrival terminals we each whipped out our cells to text the gate location of our next flight and a convenient rendezvous spot—because we had two hours to kill. Excellent catch up time—which we did over burgers and vino. So that by the time we arrived in DC, we were back to normal—or as normal as ever are.

Our Sunday Dessert with the Authors was a tremendous success---and our signatures on Gotta Keep on Tryin’ didn’t look quite so lonely any more.

Flying Solo

This weekend we are embarking on a brand new adventure—hey what would life be without something new and different?

On Saturday we are each doing a solo appearance. That’s never happened before!! But there were two events we wanted to be a part of. After wrestling to make a choice we decided to ask each group if they were willing to host one of us. They agreed. So Donna will be in Galveston, TX for the 2008 Sisters Sippin’ Tea Annual Reunion, and Virginia will be at the 13th annual Much Ado About Books festival in Jacksonville, FL. We flipped a coin to decide who would go where.

And we can’t tell you how strange we’re anticipating this to be. Yes, we are both perfectly capable of boarding a plane, catching a cab, reading and speaking in complete sentences. But we have been making appearances together for 11 years. We make speeches, sit on panels, do TV, radio, newspaper and magazine interviews together. The same way we write. Side by side. But Saturday we will be—one-sided? Lop-sided? Half-sided? Definitely not half-hearted.

Those who have seen us “do our thang” say we finish each other’s sentences, that one picks up where the other leaves off and that it is a seamless presentation. We don’t even think about it because it’s what we do. But what will it be like this weekend when we are each alone, without the other half of our brain and our voice? Will we leave a sentence hanging in mid-air because there’s no one there to catch and toss one back? Will one of us forget an important part of “our story” because we won’t have a prompt or cue to lead us there?

One thing for sure is that everyone who attends one of our solo Saturday events and gets their book signed will have a rare item—there are very, very few books out there signed by only one of us.

Now the good news is that this will all be over by 7PM Saturday night—whew! when we meet up in the Atlanta airport and get a flight to Washington/Dulles for our Sunday afternoon luncheon with the Lambda Kappa Omega Chapter of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority in Herndon, VA. We’re looking forward to it—both the event and the rendezvous.

One thing for sure—it’s gonna be interesting. We’ll let you know how it goes....

Who you callin'_______?

A friend of ours was driving to church in Mt. Vernon, NY on Sunday, looking forward to her weekly dose of inspiration. She passed a woman riding her bike. The cyclist apparently felt in some way threatened by our friend’s car and she yelled, “You motha fuckin’ ass nigga.” Our friend was stunned. What was there to say? All she could think to do in response was honk her horn.


But later that day, she called a friend who lives in Atlanta to commiserate. Her friend had had a similar experience. While driving her BMW this woman was passed by a white woman driving a Taurus. For no apparent reason the woman shouted out the window, “Take your nigga ass back to Stone Mountain.”

Now, some people would try to say the word “nigger” no longer has the same hurtful, hateful snarling connotation that it used to. That it’s just something people call each other, like buddy. That these two white women might have hurled the same words at another white person whose driving they had a beef with. To that we say, GET REAL. The word is specific and it’s meant to put people (us black people) in their places. Not to say there aren’t some choice words black folks call white people. Because we all know there are cuss words for every race, creed and color.

So, does America still need a meaningful, and ongoing conversation about race and not just lip service? Clearly. There’s a whole lot we don’t understand about each other. The most fundamental of which is that we are all far more alike, than we may have been led to believe. It is encouraging that there are people of all races who are backing Obama for president, but there are lots of us on all sides who are mightily pissed off about what other folks say, do, and feel they are entitled to. And the issue of race keeps raising it’s ugly head during this presidential campaign season, but why wouldn’t it? There is much less space these days between what we feel and what we say in public.

Is there an economic component to the animosity? Sure. Any time people feel threatened they look for somebody to attack, and an expensive foreign car driving black woman is as good a target as any when people feel powerless against $4.00 a gallon gasoline and milk, and all the larger economic forces that mean some people can still buy $10million dollar homes and others can’t afford their $50 a month rent increase. Ooops! Isn’t that just about what Obama said that got him “ in trouble” at the San Francisco dinner? That economic strain and disenfranchisement sends everyone retreating to their own corner ready to protect and defend whatever they can manage to hold onto? And sometimes the best defense is an offense? At least that’s what WE think he meant.

Well, maybe it’s good to get it all out in the open instead of letting it fester under the surface. But only if we clean up the wound and apply a salve that will allow it to heal. Except it’s not just one wound and it’s gonna take a whole lot of healing. So, in the meantime, what do you say when somebody calls you something that makes the hairs on your arms stand up? Do you ignore it or confront it? Does confronting it change anybody’s mind or just get the anger off your chest? And will any of it make life better?

Change of Life

From Donna

Most mornings when I’m home, I go downstairs first, make coffee (decaf) and bring up a cup for my husband. He has never been (or will be) a morning person. Except recently, I’ve had to alter this routine. I put the pot on, but now I have to wait for him to go down and take his first blood sugar reading of the day before he has coffee—with Equal instead of sugar. Two weeks ago, he was diagnosed with diabetes.

WHAM—that came out of the blue, sort of. After he’d come back from a family funeral in North Carolina, he started saying he needed to get a check-up. And he said his eyesight was a little blurry. He figured he was kind of run down. When he actually did see the doctor, it wasn’t even during his own appointment. He had taken his Dad to the doctor—one who has become friendly through many years and regular visits. Dr. Marsh asked Hiram how he was feeling and when he mentioned the blurry eyesight the doctor took his blood pressure. It was VERY high at which point he gave him medication, took some blood and said he would be in touch. That was on Saturday. Sunday night at 8:30 the doctor called to tell him how high his sugar was and to get him in to the office the next day.

Just like that everything changed.

I am grateful to Dr. Marsh for taking the initiative to check on someone who was, technically speaking, not his patient. And I’m really grateful that Hiram found all this out before something truly awful—like a heart attack or a stroke—happened.

Does he fit the profile? Middle-aged Black man who weighs a little more than ideal. And there is history of both conditions in his family. Yep, right on target. Still, it was a shock—for both of us. For him, it’s the first big, serious episode of his body rebelling and having to take medications and change his habits to control it. First time he’s taken sick leave for more than the flu or some passing stomach virus. He’s been in a bit of a funk as a result, but he’s following his new dietary. . . readjustments (I almost said restrictions, but we’re working to stay positive here) carefully, and charting his numbers faithfully. And we are both doing a lot of label reading—to keep his carbohydrate and sodium intake down. The changes will benefit both of us. I’ve gotten a bit. . .fluffy in recent years.

And I’ve been in a bit of a fog myself. Making sure he has what he needs, changing the way I cook. I found this salt-free seasoning mixture called Spike that is really tasty. Fage plain yogurt (it’s strained Greek yogurt with an amazingly creamy texture. We’ve been using the 2% variety. They do make zero fat also) mixed with a little Equal and some extract—vanilla, almond, lemon—is soooo yummy and satisfying. Way tastier than diet yogurt, and as satisfying to me as ice cream—that’s saying a lot.

But mostly the fog is about how serious this was and how fast life can slide by. Good grief, it seems impossible Hiram and I have known each other for twenty three years--been married for twenty of them. We’ve been through a lot together. And we both still feel young, which is great in terms of outlook. The numbers, however, are less forgiving. They are what they are. We are both really good about taking care of business—with family and friends, with our jobs. But we’ve truly fallen down on the job in the enjoying life area. He loves doing bike tours, but he hasn’t ridden in several years. We both enjoy camping, hiking, going to hear jazz. . . Haven’t made any time for those things either. And it’s not that taking care of business isn’t pressing. In the last two years Virginia and I have written two novels and a screenplay. We’re working on a plot for the next book, but for the last two weeks my head hasn’t been in it. Goodness, this time last year I got a phone call, “out of the blue,” and raced off to take care of my Mom, who had been in a serious car accident in Arizona (she continues to do better, thank God).

The point is: life is precious, and finite, and while there is always work to be done, life is meant to be enjoyed too. I admit I am still remedial on this point—joy was not featured on the Top Ten List in my house when I was growing up—but attending to our joy levels needs to be right up there with watching our glucose levels.

So, be aware of what your body is telling you. Diabetes and high blood pressure affect African Americans disproportionately. Check out the American Diabetes Association for more info, diet tips and recipes: Click here: American Diabetes Association Home Page . And today is a lovely day. Regular exercise is an important part of controlling both blood pressure and diabetes, so Hiram and I are going to grab some breakfast and go for a walk—and enjoy the sunshine, the budding trees, the daffodils and each other. That’s the business we’re taking care of today.

A Brand New Venture!

They're Here!!!!

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Here’s a preview but please visit our website for prices, individual photos and descriptions!!

http://deberryandgrant.com/DGShopping.html