It has been a terrible November, and December …ain’t takin’ off too well, either!
Spent all of November on my side, trying to heal the wound on my ass. It had tunneled to the bone, and then became re-infected. Finally convinced my docs to put me on 7 day Vancomycin, which they did. Pure hell, horrible drug, made me sicker than ever. In the days following the treatment, I didn’t seem to be ‘weller’; I put myself back on Augmentin, which had shown signs of being effective against the MRSA beast, along with a heavy regimen of turmeric and other alternative therapies. Right as I began this change, I came down with the flu; yep, fevers chills, the works, headaches…then several days of diarrhea. Geez, unreal.
Somehow, the wound actually appeared to be healing through it all, so I stayed in bed, did as little as possible upright, and by last week, began to begin feeling better. Right now I’m battling the lung aspect of the flu, another lovely manifestation, but the infection in the wound seems to be -wait, where’s some wood?- better. I met with a surgeon late last week who said, “Hey, it doesn’t look that bad, we’ll test for bone infection, and if it ain’t there, you may not need flap surgery, maybe just a wound vac treatment. Your wife did and excellent job with the wound, by the way.” Indeed, she’s been ill herself but has been keeping me from getting ‘iller’.
Today, I’m a shade better, more energetic, focused, and determined to heal. It’s getting harder to lay in bed during the day, but I have no choice, clearly. I have a long road to go before I can return to normal activity, and December is my duck hunting month, but I won’t be banging quacks anytime soon. There are…other priorities.
And through it all, controversy in my family continues. Of course, it had to erupt at Thanksgiving, and there I am, near-dead, wiped out, house filled with family and friends and everybody being sympathetic…except my sister-in-law. I’ve debated whether or not to relate the incident, but it’s stayed with me all this time so maybe a little expression will render a bit of catharsis:
Turkey day for our group is, like many, football, drinks and tons of chatter. This year, we’d volunteered to host the 35-40 people who gather annually, as we have our new home to show off and months ago, it seemed the right thing. As October sped along and I became sicker, we debated again but Pia finally said, “Dead or dying, let’s just do it here; at least you won’t have to move.” Fine, so we’re all gathered about, couple hours before we eat, everybody’s there, including my brother and wife and kids. Their’s is a most unusual relationship: they’ve been married 11 years, 2 kids, but his wife, Illiana, a Brasilian (Yep, Pia and I hooked ‘em up) declared several years ago, “I don’t love you anymore, I never did, I just wanted citizenship, but I am a lesbian. I will not break up the family or ask for a divorce, but I will continue doing what I want and taking care of the family.” Quite a shock to my soft, insecure little brother and, of course, the family; Illiana goes to every family event and is, in truth, a good mother. The kids, 7 and 4, don’t know the score, and she’s pretty good about keeping her private life private.
Until this year. Illiana brought along Michelle, her ‘friend’, for the holidays. Little bro was ‘ho-hum’ and acted like it was nothing -guess he’s adjusted to it- but my dear old man was not. Moments after they’re arrival, Pops caught the two outside kissing. Holy shit, “I’m leaving,” he screams to my mom, “and I’ll never again…” Yeah, Pops blew his lid and caused quite a scene. I eventually convinced him to stay, but dinner was damn tense and the usual friendly banter around the table was anything but. Dinner over, Pops and Mom left for home.
I’m getting ready to go back and lay down , just not doing well but I’d done my thing and everybody was understanding and kind, except Illiana, who knew my situation but just didn’t give a shit, I guess, or had shown up looking for a fight with me, her pal a very political lesbian living in Berkeley, and very intelligent and articulate. Under any other circumstances, I’d have enjoyed the engagement; not that day, though.
Anyway, I’m trudging off to bed, when who is sitting in my bedroom with CNN going but the two girls and a handful of guests. Geez, guess I‘ll entertain from bed, eh? CNN is reporting on a Saudi court essentially blaming a rape victim for getting raped. I’m getting into bed and say this as I do:
“Fucking whacko Muslims and that damn Sharia law, hey, Illiana, why aren’t you guys more outraged over this?”
“v, what are you saying? Of course we’re upset, but there’s nothing we can do.”
I’m rather stunned. “What? That wasn’t the approach you took in the 60’s, you feminists went after the establishment and fought the system for equality. I’m surprised you aren’t doing that now, defending Islamic women. What the hell else is more important than that?”
Michelle launched at me. “Wage discrimination and sexual abuse in the workplace, v, are issues we’ve been hard at work at, and we’re quite proud/
“But you say nothing about Islamic treatment of women, or hip hop/the Black community’s oppression of women. The entire feminist movement is asleep on this and instead you’re focused on wage issues?” Yeah, I was getting heated up. “Where’s the great feminist outrage that changed the world in the 60’s? Don’t tell me you can’t stand up to Islam, or hip hop? Why aren’t you protesting in front of every mosque, and having huge cd burning sessions in front of record producers?”
Michelle just tore me up; out came a litany of, “We’re working subtly, behind the scenes, because you can’t just confront a foreign religion, we fully support our sisters in Islam,” and other blather. I was made to feel stupid, as if I didn’t understand the issues, while Michelle and Illiana waxed on and on about all the great work their ‘movement’ is accomplishing.
I’m laying there exhausted, and these gals are just goading me, I don’t really remember the exchanges, I know I wasn’t too crisp but I gave it all I had on this one:
“Your collective silence in the face of Islam and hip hop is the same as acceptance. You’re complicit, much like Chamberlain was facing Hitler (Michelle, “Who?” Read your fucking history!), your movement gives these men a free pass to do as they please, and I’ll be damned if I see any of you wearing burkas in support of your Islamic sisters. If you lived under Ilsamic law, you wouldn’t have any of the freedoms you now enjoy.”
Illiana started going off about changing the religion from within, but I was too tired to continue. I also knew that both gals and their friends, a very active group of feminist/lesbians in Berkeley, share a common interest: clubbing. They’re in love with clubbing, shaking it all hours and celebrating their sexual freedom. Fine, but…
“You’re too busy shaking your asses off to oppressive hip hop to give a damn about the message it sends to the world, especially the kids.”
“People should understand, “she replies, “that it’s juts art, that you have to be able to see through the hype and understand/
“It celebrates extreme individualism at the sake of women; women are whores, to be used and discarded, killed if you feel like it. That’s art? That’s expression?” I lost it then, sorry. “You and your entire movement are frauds and hypocrites, you’re fucking cowards for concentrating on the easy targets, wages and the atrocities of the white male here at home, while the real atrocities go unchecked. You make me sick.”
With that, I turned my head, while the two girls just fucking ripped into me. I didn’t give a shit then, nor do I now. Pia finally heard the tumult and whisked everybody out of the room. Since the, nearly every day, I have been receiving emails from them and their friends about: 1) what an asshole I am; 2) the achievements of the feminist movement. Yet, with all their court victories here and changes to system there, not a word about protesting Islam and/or hip hop/the Black community.
“Yeah, v’s the villain, and since we can’t change Islam, and since we love hip hop, let’s just…go dancing!”
Dance all you want, but meanwhile, women in Islam, and women here at home, are targets for hatred and violence. Where’s the outrage?
~
(Note: My book, ‘Scouring the globe for a cure: a disabled man’s experiences with stem cell treatment’
can be purchased at the following Web address:
www.booklocker.com/books/2857.html)
