The 2024 election and me

 The election was a week ago today. And since then, I have been feeling depressed, scared, sad, and so many other emotions. I have spent the past few days checking in on some friends while avoiding others. I have also seen posts on social media from people who don’t understand our emotions. Well, I can’t speak for anyone else, but I can tell you my story and how this impacts me.

When I was young, I knew I was different. I didn’t understand it, and I didn’t have a word for it or even any context. But I knew. I also knew that I had to keep it a secret. Not like I knew something I wasn’t supposed to talk about. It was instinctual, like I had to keep it a secret to survive.

I didn’t hear the word gay or faggot until I hit middle school and then they seemed to be the only thing anyone called me. I didn’t even know what the words meant, but the tone of voice told me it wasn’t good. There was also nobody to ask. Again, instinctually, I knew I had to keep it to myself. I was teased, bullied, beat up, all for something I wasn’t fully aware of and didn’t understand. Everyone else seemed to live in a world I didn’t. I was different. I hadn’t done anything. I wouldn’t have known what to do if the opportunity presented itself. I had no self-esteem. I just wanted to be invisible and left alone.

Just about the time I started to realize that maybe I was gay, people started dying of AIDS. And before I had even my first real kiss, sex with another man meant death. At church and home, I heard over and over that I was an abomination, destined for hell. They didn’t say it to me directly, but that is what they said about gay people and well, I was becoming more and more aware that I was gay.

My sister outed me to my mom, and the next time I spoke to my mom, she said “I hope you get AIDS and die and go to hell because that is what you deserve.” I argued that I wasn’t a pedophile, rapist, or serial killer. She told me that if I was, at least I would be normal. That’s when I learned that being gay was worse than being those other things. In fact, it seemed there was nothing worse.

The rest of the world seemed to agree, as nothing at all was done while 60,000 or so people died of AIDS in the US. I remember hearing people say that all gay people would be shipped off to an island where we could give each other AIDS and die. That would take care of the problem. It was a “gay cancer,” and God’s will. There was no way around it, I was not welcome or wanted. It made no difference what kind of person I was. I was hated because of what I did in the privacy of my bedroom. “Silence = Death” seemed to be everywhere as we struggled just to get someone, anyone, to care that people were dying. And many of them, dying alone, kicked out of their families, and deserted by “friends.”

As a result of all of this, I had a ton of internalized homophobia. I was gay, and I hated being gay. I spent my life living in fear. Was I saying the wrong thing? Standing the wrong way? Scared I would react if someone mentioned the name of the boy I had a crush on. As an adult, I always had to have stories ready – What did I do over the weekend? Who was I with? Who did I like? I had to be careful not to let an “I love you” slip out when talking on the phone to my partner in case someone heard. I lived two completely different lives. Each of them kind of me, but neither of them really me.

All I wanted was to be “normal” and be able to walk down the street holding someone’s hand and not be in danger. I wanted the freedom to talk about my life at work the way everyone else did and not worry about being alienated or fired. I wanted the life my straight friends and family had, but that I would never be allowed to have. I wanted the government and media to stop talking about my sex life, who I should be able to love or marry, and whether I should even be legal.

By 21, I knew that I would not live to be 30. The odds were against me, as it seemed, the rest of the world was too. From where I stood, to be gay meant to die, because that was what I deserved. It was God’s punishment for me being gay. And the well-meaning friends and family who told me they loved me, they just didn’t approve of my lifestyle, didn’t help.

I was in my 20s when I first became aware of gay pride. I didn’t like it. I wanted nothing to do with it. I didn’t understand why gay people needed to go out and have a parade because they were gay. I wanted to be invisible and just exist, and the people in gay pride parades wanted everyone to see them. It made me uncomfortable. I was both jealous and terrified.

Why gay pride? Because in so many places in the US, gay people are discriminated against, threatened with violence, and killed. It’s because there are politicians who want to remove our right to be married, our access to healthcare, and in some cases, even make it illegal to be gay. Books with gay characters get banned. Movies about gay people get boycotted. Children are kicked out of their homes and shunned by friends. They are abandoned and shamed by the very people shouting about family values and Christian love. If we hold hands in public, we are shoving our lives down people’s throats, and our marriages to decades-long partners are seen as harming the sanctity of marriage, while straight people can marry and divorce as they want, and nobody says anything. Just a few examples that I have personally faced. And those types of actions lead many teens and even older gay people to dangerous behaviors, depression, and suicide. I went through a phase of wanting to die instead of being gay. And I’m sure there are people in the world who would have preferred that.

Throughout my adult life, I could always look back and see that progress was being made. There was always movement forward. Maybe the tiniest bit, maybe quite a lot, but it was always forward. We were able to have benefits for partners, adopt children, and get married. It was like we were real people after all. Sure, some people thought I shouldn’t have those things, but they seemed to be in the minority. I was certain I had the support of my friends and family.

But that doesn’t seem to be the case. I understand that we live in a democracy where we all have the right to vote for who we want. I am all for that. For years, we have been hearing about rights being taken away. I would bring this up to friends and family who didn’t want to talk “politics.” Well, it’s not politics, it’s my life. It’s my marriage, my family, my son, my healthcare, my rights. And the fact that people who say they love me vote for people who have been outspoken about their willingness and mission to take away my rights, to make me less of a person, less of a citizen, and treat me as though I do not matter, makes me feel so sad and alone. It makes me feel hated.

For the first time, I can see us moving backward. I don’t know what’s going to happen in January. But if even only a fraction of the GOP’s promises and goals get implemented, it is going to be catastrophic for so many people. They have never hidden their intentions, and yet, so many voted for them and intentionally voted against me and my family. Have they even thought about where this all goes? Let’s say LGBTQ rights are completely wiped out. Who is next? People of color? Women? Non-Christians? And have no doubt, someone will be next.

There is a vindictive part of me that wants to tell everyone who voted against me and my rights that I hope I can return the favor someday, but the truth is, I would never vote against anyone’s rights. And this is not about gay or trans rights, it is about basic human rights. Once they get taken away for one group, they can get taken away for anyone.

Dizzy Blonde

A few weeks ago, the hearing in my left ear went down by 40 decibels. Adjusting to that has been challenging, especially as life starts moving from staying at home to venturing out into public spaces. At home, I have some control over the sounds in the house. If the washer is too loud for me, I can go to my room for some quiet. This past Monday, we went out to dinner for the first time since we started sheltering in place, and it was a glimpse of my new normal. Between the music and the ambient noise, I could not hear anything people said without a lot of concentration. Even then, it only went well about 30% of the time. People wearing masks makes it even harder to hear. I am already tired of asking people to repeat themselves, and for now, I am much more comfortable being at home.

 

About a week or so after the hearing loss, I started to have moments of dizziness. They would last anywhere from one to ten minutes at a time. Now, it is almost the reverse. This is now day three, with mostly non-stop dizziness. Vertigo often comes with hearing loss and tinnitus like mine. The hearing loss seems pretty minor now in comparison. While the hearing loss presented some challenges, I found myself starting to adapt. I know to pause the TV or music if someone is talking to me. People closest to me know, so they are patient when I tell them I didn’t hear them for the third or fifth time. But the dizziness, that is something else entirely.

I call it dizziness for lack of a better word. I am not yet sure what to call it, but dizziness doesn’t quite explain it. It also comes in various forms. When it started, I would suddenly get the spins. The whole room would just spin as though I had way too much to drink. I would usually happen when I was lying down, if I moved my head too fast or if sounds were overwhelming. Since Tuesday, things have been different. Sometimes the room still spins. Most of the time, I feel like I am spinning or moving, and everything else has stopped. I can feel it in my whole body, and I constantly feel like I am going to lose my balance and fall. It has happened, but only a little bit here and there.

Walking down the stairs is scary. I cling to the rail and lean toward on wall, taking it one step at a time. If I forgot something and need to go back upstairs, I put it off until I absolutely have to. Carrying things in my hands while walking downstairs is the worst, and I can’t imagine trying to navigate it in the dark. Something that just a week ago, I did automatically. Looking up while standing is like having the floor open up below me, and I am filled with the sensation of free-falling. Paying attention, holding a conversation, and even writing requires an exhausting level of concentration, and I struggle with all of it. I feel like I am letting everyone down. My son has commented that I seem to have something new wrong with me every week. It’s hard to do the things I usually do with him because of the sounds and movement. It’s difficult doing the things I need to do in business, and that is letting my business partner down. I am cranky, and that is having impacts at home. Sometimes, I don’t know what to do.

I called my ENT, who has prescribed some dizziness and nausea medication. Nausea hasn’t started yet, but it feels like it might. I am not one to feel queasy after a spinning ride or anything like that, but now I am on my fourth day of it being non-stop, and it is wearing me down. In fact, this whole thing is wearing me down. I’m actively trying to fight off depression and not doing such a great job at it. Part of the problem is that there is no forgetting about it, not even for a minute or two. When I had the stroke, there would be moments when I would forget, and those moments were incredible. Yes, there was the harsh moment of reality at some point, but to forget for just a few minutes was a gift. So far, I haven’t been able to forget. Maybe its too new, perhaps that’s how it’s going to be.

I start my dizziness medication today, and the doctor wants an MRI as soon as possible. Maybe it will show something. For now, I am just hoping the medicine works. I'm tired of being a dizzy blonde.

My Newest Adventure

I had always thought hearing loss would be a slow, gradual dialing down of the volume to an ever-increasing silence. That’s why, when I woke up last Saturday with loud ringing and pressure in my left ear, hearing loss was not even on my radar. I assumed it was sinus related. I’ve had horrific sinus issues for years, and six weeks ago, I had surgery to reconstruct my shattered septum, which turned out to be the cause of all the sinus misery. Plugged ears and ringing were nothing new, but as the day went on, things intensified.

I first noticed that I was more sensitive to the sounds in the house. The coffee cup set down on the table. Water running in the sink. The sound of my spoon against the side of the jar as I ate my overnight oats. It was like they were not sounds I was hearing, but explosions that reverberated in my head.

We decided to go out for a walk, to get away from the sound and get some fresh air. The pressure in my ear would change in intensity. The ringing sounded like I was sitting in an airplane right next to the engine. It wasn’t painful, just increasingly annoying. It was when our path took us under a freeway bridge that I realized there was something more going on. The sounds from the cars overhead were intense, as though I were standing in a long echoing tunnel. Once again, I sounded like I was coming from my head. I had to strain to hear the person next to me speaking, and it wasn’t until we were a few hundred feet away that the noise levels started to diminish.

We got home and had a video call with my doctor. He asked if I had lost any hearing, and I said no. It hadn’t occurred to me that I had. I was hearing things- and loudly.  He referred me to the urgent care to make sure there was nothing obviously wrong. I got the all-clear from that doctor, who then referred me to my Ear Nose and Throat (ENT) doctor. I got home and put on some headphones to play a video game. That’s when I noticed it. I was ‘hearing’ a lot of ringing, but there was no actual hearing going on in that ear. That’s when the panic started. I called my ENT, got the on-call doctor who got everything rolling for an appointment for a hearing test that Monday.

The rest of the weekend was full of surprises. As I can only hear in one ear, I can’t follow two streams of sound. If I am watching TV and someone talks to me, it all jumbles up. I have to pause the TV and then listen only to what the person is saying. Eating potato chips or anything crunchy is majorly uncomfortable, and I can’t hear anything at all. Listening to music is not a fun experience with now, as it has a weird effect on the pressure in my ear. And I love music. I always have it on all the time. And I always write with music. Not anymore, at least not at this time.

Grocery stores are the worst. They are a never-ending source of sound torture. It is almost impossible to have a conversation if I am at the sink with running water, and general conversation is just not as much fun as it used to be. You know when you try to sleep, and someone’s car alarm keeps going off all night? That’s what it’s like. It just never takes a break, and nobody is coming to turn it off. Conversations take concentration. I often have to strain to listen, and I have to continually ask what somebody said or let them know I didn’t hear them. Sometimes, like at a grocery store, I just smile and nod and hope it was the right thing to do. Work conversations are even more difficult. I often need to brainstorm and think strategically and creatively in the moment. It’s hard to do while trying to ignore the onslaught of sounds around me. I can sometimes hear the aggravation in Keith’s voice after he asked me to help him in the kitchen or something, and I just didn’t hear him.

Monday, I had the hearing test, and the results confirmed a 40-decibel hearing loss in my left year. The doctor told me I have Sudden Sensorineural Hearing Loss. While there is a laundry list of what may cause it, from viruses to tumors, there is not much knowledge about it. There are also not many options for treatment. I started a round of high-dose steroids, which I am now about half-way through. If those don’t work, then the next step is an MRI. So far, there has been no change.

I am trying to stay positive, doing the treatments that might, but probably will not bring my hearing back, and at the same time, be realistic about the possibility of this being something that is here to stay. I don’t know how that will work. I have found a couple of great resources that are helping me understand what is going on and also figuring out what comes next.

The C Word

Last April, I was having allergy issues. I was on my way into work with a sore throat, cough and my sinuses feeling like an over-inflated balloon. I have had those attacks before and, knowing the process and progression, made an appointment with the doctor. It was during the drive to the doctor that I discovered the lump. It was tiny, in the soft part of my neck just under where the jawbone meets the ear.

I mentioned it to the doctor who explained it was probably nothing. He gave me some antibiotics for it and advised me to use compresses. I was told to make another appointment if it lingered beyond four weeks. I decided not to say anything to anyone at that time. It was nothing and would probably go away and I didn’t want to worry anyone. I know people want to be there, but sometimes that just adds way more stress to the situation. I didn’t want to be asked how I was or be sent uplifting texts, I just wanted to get the facts of what was going on.

A month went by and the lump was still there, so I went to the doctor who then ordered an ultrasound. By that time, my cough had progressed to the point it was getting in the way of my life. I do quite a bit of public speaking and webinars. I could barely speak a sentence without igniting a coughing fit. By this time, I told John what was going on, but still kept it all contained. The results of the ultrasound led the doctor to believe I should be referred to a cancer surgeon.

I decided to let a couple of people in on what was going on. I still had no diagnosis and I found great comfort and escape in my everyday life. Nobody bringing it up unless I did. I finally had my appointment with the cancer surgeon late in August. He was amazing. I only knew what I had seen in movies and TV, but my doctor was personable and friendly and I was immediately at ease. Well, as much at ease as anyone can be when the conversation includes words like Lymphoma. He told me he wouldn’t really be worried about the lump on its own, but when he put that with the cough I then had for five months and a few other things, he told me there was cause for concern, but he wanted to perform a PET scan.

A PET scan involves being injected with radioactive sugar, waiting about 40 minutes and then having a full body MRI type scan. The test looks for cells that are aggressively feeding on the sugar. All I had going through my head at that time was the phrase “lit up like a Christmas Tree.” The whole process was starting to take a mental and emotional toll. I kept thinking about Ryder and how this might all affect him. He is still settling into the fact he has a forever family, that he finally has the feeling of safety that is letting him relax into his life.

I had the PET scan and then the wait for the results. I had my appointment for September 26, several weeks after the test itself. I discovered that I would pick up a copy of the lab report myself, prior to the appointment. I kept it in the envelope for a couple of days and then took a look. I knew there would be no going back once I saw the results. I scanned the report and for the most part it seemed ok. There were a few things, but it seemed there was nothing major.

Finally the day of the appointment rolled around and the doctor went through the results, telling me that while there was a tiny abnormality, he believed it was nothing and that it was something we should follow and monitor for a bit, but as of that time, no further action was needed.

After 6  months of waiting and doctors and stressing, I had my answer. I told the few people that knew and let them know all was well. A week later, my phone rang. It was the doctor’s office. There was an addendum to the report. Things didn’t look as great as they thought and the doctor wanted a biopsy as soon as it could be scheduled. The appointment was scheduled for a few weeks out. I told John and two other people. The emotional back and forth was making me depressed, anxious and short-tempered.

The procedure itself was not a big deal, I was awake and watching on the monitor as the needle biopsy was performed. It was done pretty quick and then I had another three weeks to wait for the results. A few days before the appointment, they pushed it out by another two weeks. I would not get the results until just after Thanksgiving.

And then I got laid off. The company I worked for was having issues and those issues made it impossible for me to do my job. When everything with the company happened, I expected my position to be officially terminated within a week or two. Instead, it was closer to six months. I was going to leave that position a few weeks later, they just changed my timing.

I got the results the week after Thanksgiving. The biopsy came back great, but as it was a needle biopsy, there are two things to consider; A) There is no cancer B) There is cancer but the needle didn’t get to that part. So, for now, it is assumed that I am in the clear and I will have a few appointments to just monitor and follow-up until the doctor is convinced there is nothing to worry about.

So for now, for me, there is nothing to worry about.