I Hope He Was Just Having A Bad Day

Okay,  long Lisa story of the week.  So, when I went through the trauma unit when I got to the ER this last hospitalization....this resident that was in the trauma room and working on me was pretty much a jerk.  

He was trying to get an iv going, and I was trying to let him know in between catching breaths that due to so many hospitalizations.. my veins are shot and you have to use an ultrasound or go in EXACTLY where the 1 definite vein is and the needle has to go in at a very specific angle.  It's literally the only spot they have been successful in for probably 2 years, and only I think 2 people have been able to hit the vein without an ultrasound.  The ER people always listen when I let them know and get an ultrasound off jump, because who wants the hassle?  Apparantly this resident did.  Because he was like..I don't need an ultrasound..and proceeded to go into my right arm and probe around in no less than 8 or 9 locations.  Not only that, but when he would fail, he would yank the needle out and just set up for another location.  He wasn't putting pressure on the injection site to stop the bleeding or anything.  By this point, I'm pretty much just laying there with tears silently flowing from the pain.

At the same time, I've got people on the other side of me, trying to get ivs going in my other arm.  They were also drawing blood.  Then the resident says to me that he is going to put an iv into my neck.  I start shaking and crying, because..NO.  So this mofo says...what's the problem?  I'm telling him, really BEGGING him, I have never had a needle in my neck, can you PLEASE just get the ultrasound, I swear..I'm telling you where the vein is that you will be able to use.   So then this man has the audacity to tell the nurse that he wants them to do a drug screen on me!!!  He thought I was high! He goes back to my arm..tries a few more times and then just walks out of the room.

The nurses start grumbling about him and one turns around and curses.  This mofo with all of his poking and probing the needle around in me and then just taking it out, with no pressure on it...apparantly..all those holes in my arm were just flowing blood and the side of the stretcher was soaked and there was a pool of blood on the floor, and he didn't say a word to them..he just left.  Nurses were pissed.

Oh yeah..they bought in an ultrasound a little later after I was stabilized, and got an iv in the EXACT spot I told them to in like 2 minutes.  But I've been complaining about how sore and hard and stiff my right forearm has been all week.  

I was in my room last night and Imani happened to walk in and looked and grabbed my arm and turned it this way and that way and was like..Oh my God!!! She started comparing it to my other arm and I'm like..yeah, I know, I have crazy bruises from the needles.  And she is like..No..you need to call your Dr.  Your arm has a bunch of lumps in it and it's real swollen.  And then she says

.gyattttdamn!!  I'm sitting here like what??! She says...you didn't see that big bruise?  I said, there's a lot of bruises.  She says..no...its like your elbow down almost to your wrist.   I hadn't even noticed it to be honest..I don't go looking at the back of my arms that often.

And that was my long story of the week

The Irony Of The Words

 I have been going through my oldest blogs and working my way up, looking for some memories as I have begun to finally write my book.  And I came across this entry that I wrote sometime in 2008, while I was still living in Sumter, South Carolina.  I was talking about finally realizing what had driven me to move to SC.  At the end of the  blog, Id written:

I think SC is for the here and now. The move was necessary....Id lost my love for and my hope in Boston. I need a few years to sort of regroup and EXHALE, to see some more of the world and see how I react TO the world...but then I need to return to the city, maybe Boston, maybe Baltimore. Maybe I can view it through "new eyes" with a revitalized spirit and energy. Return with a new path for my life. To get back on the track that has always guided me..to make a DIFFERENCE. They say home is where the heart is, and right now..my heart isn't in Boston OR SC..it is still searching, if that makes sense.

The irony is that the only reasons that I returned to Boston were stressors.  My child had been murdered, my health was suffering, my teenaged daughter had just delivered a baby that had complex medical needs and was expecting another baby...MY LIFE WAS FALLING APART AROUND ME.  I had an incredible support system around me in Columbia, where I was living, but I needed my Mother and sisters love.  I needed to be able to see their faces and to feel their hugs when I needed to.  To be able to see my son and daughter in law when I wanted to.  And I figured we would come back to Boston and my inner peace would return instantly.

Welp...I was correct in that my joy returned in that I was able to see my family whenever I wanted to.  I've missed hanging out with them and cooking for them.  But other than that, Imani and I knew within weeks..we HATED being back in Boston.  We knew we had made a mistake returning.  Yes, it is amazing healthcare for me and for the boys, there is no denying that.  I will not pretend that you really have to do your research and invest time and patience to make sure to find the right doctors and resources for specialized care in South Carolina.  And so we have taken advantage of every resource that we need to take advantage of here.  But internally, SC became our home.  Everything that I had been looking for?  The place to belong?  To make a difference?  To be an activist?  To be a voice and make a change?  I was doing that.  We had created a family down there.  A family that we miss.  Id found my poetry scene, my singing scene, my open mic scene, my Waiting to Exhale Crew.  

Like I said before...They say home is where the heart is.  And I'm no longer searching.  After living there for 9 years and being back here in Boston for 3 years, I know that South Carolina is home for us.  We are staying here for 1.5 more years, but the plan is to absolutely return to SC at the end of the school year in 2022.

Writers Block and Stuck Keys

Of course, now that I FINALLY made the decision to actually move forward and be intentional about writing my story while simultaneously doing a book of poetry (because doing just one wouldn't be enough..I need to go ALLLLL the way) I have the worst case of writers block ever!  And not only that, but this daggone laptop has decided that every other 20 minutes, the t and y keys will stop working for 20-30 minutes or more, and I have to shut everything down while I sit here fighting with it.

Mmmm..before I forget..the powers that be in the algorhythems ( I know just butchered the spelling of that huh?)  at both FB and IG have deemed my blog abusive, so I can't share the blog on them any longer.  Well, I may be able to share the link to the general blog itself on fb, I haven't tried that method yet.  But it won't let me post links to the actual blog posts.  And IG...whew...they shut me down completely like a month ago.  Locked my whole damn account down.  I can still log in and see everything.  I can respond to dm's.  And post pictures, but that is it.  Can't like pics.  Can't even caption my pics.  I had to just start a whole new account.  I messaged IG support like 7 times because when I look under violations, it say I actually have none, but have gotten no response so far.  So there's that.

Let's see what else is happening.  Oh yeah...this week is the first week that Bry will have 4 days at school!!!!  Oh Em Gee!  I am not gonna know what to do with myself.  I kind of want to go to the gym, but the lazy in me is basically laughing at that.  I kind of want to go vote early.  But I'm also kind of worried that if I vote early, something mysterious is going to happen to all of those early votes and they will disappear or something.  I don't trust 45 as far as I can through him and his toupee.

This will be a short entry.  I was hoping that as I typed, I would kickstart my brain into think mode and I'd find something to write about.  I'm gonna go read some old journals to jog my memory and then do some writing about earlier years.

Ready To Go

 Free Writing from my FB writing group. I have finally decided to make the leap into writing my book after contemplating it for many years.

Ready To Go

I stared dejectedly through the windshield as I thought to myself "Fukk this Lis! You tried 15x already. Just leave the shyt alone and go home."

I glanced out of the drivers side window and two of the barbers from "We Cut Headz" Barber Shop were standing outside, smoking and watching everything that I was trying to do, laughing quietly. This just pissed me off even more and made me even MORE determined.

Taking a deep breath, I made up my mind to carry this thing through, even if it killed me in the process. First, I needed to make peace. I closed my eyes and began a quick prayer to Allah. I'd be missing many of the pre prayer requirements, but Allah is all seeing, and he sees my heart. First, I prayed for my family, then I apologized for the 5 lb bucket of Jelly Belly Jelly Beans that I have selfishly been hiding in the back of my closet in order to avoid sharing with Mani, Michelle and Marcus, And I apologized for the damned good, but very out of Wedlock and therefore Haram fornication that I was enjoying tremendously with Marcus each night. And Ameen. After that very important cleansing, I felt like Allah knew my heart was coming to HIM pure and HE was ready to help me. So I took a deep breath.

And so I pulled the car forward a little bit and then carefully checked my side and rear mirror---no obstacles, so I'm good to go. I slowly tried to maneuver my way via twists and turns into the parallel space. Yeah Lisa!!! Good job! BAM BISH!!!!

Except......When I got out of the car, I was about 2 feet away from the curb...maybe 3. FUGGGGGGGG!!!!! Alrighty then..... Pull away and repeat. Pull back a little further this time. Now my rear bumper slams in the curb, and I'm damn near sticking straight out into the street.

Pull out and start again............Grrrrrr

Pull out and start again............Grrrrrr

Pull out and start again............Grrrrrr *sniffle sniffle*

Turn off the music, so I can really concentrate and see better

Give the pep talk. Let her know we can go get a car wash and detail. Maybe an oil change

Pull out and start again............AHHHHHHHHHH

Now I'm cussing this damn car....she's an ugly, ungrateful bish who doesn't appreciate how good I treat her and I'm selling her for parts after work anyway!

Sitting in the car, looking dejectedly out the windshield and I feel a presence. I look up and the man from the barbershop is leaning in my window. Ooooh, a handsome man!! I bust out my best flirty, sexy smile "Hey, how ya doing hunee?" He says " Baby Girl, c'mon outta this car. I'm just gonna park this shyt for you" And then he proceeds to do a perfect park in about 3.2 seconds, and jump out and go back to the barber shop.

Have you ever tried to walk away with some sense of dignity when someone just made you feel like you accidentally left your specially fit helmet, fig newtons and juice box on the little yellow bus?

Tonight I Lay In My Bed Listening

This is something that I originally wrote in I think 1999-2000.  I recently found it and updated a few lines to make it current..  Its a little dark, but a lot of my poetry tends to be more on the social commentary side.

Tonight I Lay In My Bed Listening 

by Lisa Robinson 2000

Tonight I lay in my bed listening.

Listening to the sounds of a woman.

She screams, this woman. Somebody’s mother, sister, daughter, lover.

I listen as she screams. Screams for all of the things that were…but will never be again.

She remembers

Remembers perhaps, the first time she touched the tiny brown face and looked into his eyes.

She remembers those first unsure steps, the first cry of “Mama”….she remembers the baby.

She remembers the tears on the morning he first began school, and the laughter as he returned home.

Maybe she cries for the times of pain – cries for the bruises, skinned knees, maybe even broken bones. All of which will heal in time.

She cries for the boy

Maybe she cries for the pains that will not heal. For the time that her child, who has been loved and adored since birth, came home and asked “Mama, what is a nigger?”

She cries for the time that his heart has been broken, the pain of a first love.

She cries for the pain, the anger and frustration he feels, every time he “fits the description” or “she crossed the street and clutched her purse when she saw me”.  He is becoming a Black Man

She cries for the simple irony of it all. That someone who came out of an act so beautiful, so tender and loving…could be taken away in an act so UGLY, so VIOLENT so HATEFUL!

He will never hear her cries! 

He was somebodies father, brother, son and lover.

She cries because she knows this. He has been taken away. Never again to be held, kissed, caressed or told “I Love You”

Tonight I lay in my bed listening to the cries of a woman. 

It is me; and I’m crying for all of the mothers who have lost a child.

Lost Files - Poetry 2002 - 2004 Part 2

 Definitely had to do a Part 2:               

The Song

2002

 I stepped forward, onto the stage

Careful as ever, not to trip over the thick wires

I said hello to the Host, and positioned myself just left of him

Close enough to see his reactions, unsure still of my skills

 I grabbed my “lucky” microphone…the red one…always

I wasn’t sure if it really brings luck; but who am I to challenge?

The first notes of the song began

 As usual, it strikes a chord of panic within me

Will tonight be the night?

Will this be the night I mess it up?

Inhale…..Exhale

 Slowly, I opened my eyes

Closed them again as I began the first verse

I needed to mentally hear the words I was singing

Unsure of what sounds I was producing

I tentatively opened my eyes and scanned the faces in the room

 The were smiling!  A few were clapping

nodding and giving words of encouragement

Gradually, my voice became stronger

My smile became wider

My stance became freer

I began to feel the song

The rhythm…the Essence

Desperate

6/13/2007

 Sitting here thinking

Feeling my frustration growing

Growing strong with each passing hour

Each hour that you’re away

 Away from my heart

Away from my passion

Away from the love that I so desperately

Wish I could make you feel

 The love that forces itself upon me

Forces me to love you unconditionally

Forces me to love you from a place so deep within

That it physically hurts

 Can you feel..the way that my heartbeat seems to merge with yours?

Even when we are miles apart

The way that my soul opens up,

and feels the pain in your eyes

Knowing that if you were to cut

I would surely bleed

 You couldn’t possibly know…

You haven’t gotten there yet

To this place

This place where only my heart

Lays open and crying

Crying out in desperation

Desperate to be made whole again

Desperate to stop beating with yours

Desperate to stop feeling this pain

Desperate

To stop loving you

Playing With Dolls

2001

 Back when I used to play with Barbie Dolls

Playing house seemed so simple

I’d line up all my Barbies, and fill up the pink townhouse with pink and white furniture

The only decision I had to make was

Which outfit Barbie would wear that day

 I never had to worry about how to pay for Barbies clothes

Every Christmas or Birthday, at least 6 outfits would magically appear

I didn’t have to worry about a job

After all; Barbie could be anything:  Policewoman, Astronaut, Ballerina, Superstar, Teacher, a nurse or the President

 When Barbie said “YES” to Ken, everything was complete

I didn’t have to plan a wedding

I just pulled out “Bride Barbie” and “Groom Ken”  All set!

 There were no car notes to concern yourselves with, or loans to get co-signed

Mom just got Barbie that pretty pink sports car

Ken and Barbie could travel in the Deluxe  Motor Home for the summer

 Back when I used to play with dolls

Ken didn’t leave when baby Skipper came along

He didn’t have an affair with Barbie’s BFF Teresa

Ken never worried about keeping a job.  He had 8 professions to choose from

 Back when I used to play with dolls

There was no divorce

When the relationship began to fade

I could just place Ken and Barbie back on their shelf

There was no alimony to pay

No missed child support payments

 There was never a death in the Barbie world

If Barbie’s head or arm popped off; we knew a brother, sister, mom or cousin who could pop it back on, just like new

 I miss life with the dolls sometimes

I can’t help but to sit back and wish for the days when

Ken and Barbie were the only relationship I had to focus on

 

 

Lost Files - Poetry from 2002 through 2004 Part 1?

 So Yeah...Maybe this will be Part 1.  Depends on how many poems I squeeze into this blog, lol.  Today, I was organizing my bedroom desk and came across a treasure trove of old poetry in this old beat up little notebook.  I literally did not even remember even writing this stuff.  Some, I recognized a piece here or there..maybe a sentence.  But that was it.  But I thought I would share them on here.  So without further ado:            

Just Friends

Standing there looking so fine

6 foot 4 of chocolate sexiness

You stopped to say hello

And to chit chat about whatever came to mind

To be honest, I didn’t even hear most of what you said

I was too busy staring

Amazed by just how beautiful a man you are

Everything about you

From the bass in your voice

To the richness of your cocoa skin

The long curly lashes framing soft brown eyes

The same eyes that reveal all of your inner thoughts

 You stood there on that summer day

Delighting me with all of your sexiness on display

Scowling at the rest of the world

In that ig’nant Beantown boy way

And saving that sweet smile just for me

 I tried my hardest to play it off

And go along with the

“Just Friends” game

And said I’d see you around

 As I walked away with my man

I glanced back and smiled

Knowing I’d be back at your place later tonight

Home

2002

 I wasn’t surprised when you called me last night

Asking me to help you out of yet another jam

I wouldn’t have expected anything less

It’s been that way since we first met

                            You running away when you feel yourself getting too close

Trying to convince yourself that you need to be alone

Telling yourself that the streets are the only constant in your life

The streets would comfort you.  Keep you safe and warm, when nobody else would

                                        And then..as soon as the cold air came, the first tinge of pain

You did what you always do

You called and asked to come back home

 

My Chocolate Man

2001

 This is dedicated to my chocolate man

My sweet, brown satisfying man

I dreamed of you last night

I thought about that night we met

 You walked into the room

With that beautiful smile and confident walk

And all I could think about was, how you made me want to just…

 Made me want to:

Open my arms and welcome you home

Made me want to:

Open your heart and heal any hurt you’d ever felt

Made me want to:

Pull you close to me and dance a slow and sensual dance

Made me want to:

Lean in and deeply inhale your sweet essence

 Yet still, we pulled…we pushed each other away

and continued

To pull back together just as quickly

 We hurt each other. 

Calling each other all of the most vile names we could think of

But all along regretting

Regretting every bad word we said

 Hurting ourselves by hurting each other

Still refusing to admit that maybe..just maybe….

We are what we both know what we are…Soulmates

 I dreamed of you tonight Chocolate

I dreamed of your big brown eyes, soft lips, gentle caresses

strong will and loving heart

I dreamed of you tonight Chocolate

And I missed you