Guest Blogger, Michael Patrick Gaffney: I Hadn’t Had a Bath in 20 Years!

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My friend and frequent guest blogger Michael had a medical emergency this week. I’ll let him tell you. But even before the situation passed, so to speak, I asked him if he might want to write about it. Tonight he sent me this. I do believe that when we are processing life’s challenges, it can help to sit down and write about it. And if we decide to share what we’ve written, who knows, it might help the people who read it too. I’m glad you are feeling better, my friend. You are loved!

“I Hadn’t Had a Bath In 20 Years!”

Like most people in the world today, I’m often stressed out and always carrying around a certain amount of anxiety. I’ve tried yoga and meditation but I just don’t have the patience, I guess. But I do find my peaceful place in walking. I love to walk! I just love it! I am a self-proclaimed Power Walker. I love to walk my dog, I love to walk to the store, but most of all I love to take long walks up into the canyon where I live. I call it my church. I love to power walk up to the top of the hill, with my arms swinging back and forth like Oprah as Sophia in “The Color Purple”, and look out and watch the hawks glide past me. Tuesday was a typical day on my power walk and just as I was about start my way down I felt a slight pain in my right testicle. Hmmm…Weird. 10 minutes down the hill I started to feel a shooting pain in the middle of my back. Ouch! Really weird…By the time I arrived home I was moaning and groaning, deciding if this warranted calling 911. Instead I called a neighbor and asked her if she would take me to the E.R. A drive that should have taken us 20 minutes took over an hour in rush hour traffic. I screamed and cried and prayed out load. I took my seatbelt off at one point and got on all fours in the front seat. I couldn’t stop moving. I was like a terrified Pekingese heading to the vet. Then the nausea started, “I think I’m going to be sick”, I screamed! We were at a dead stop so I opened the car door, but it was a false alarm. But now all the people in the cars around us knew there was drama going on and kept staring, waiting for me to blow!

When we finally pulled into the Emergency Room drop off point my neighbor stopped the car and I jumped out and power walked through the front doors. There were about 20 other people sitting in the waiting area waiting to be seen. I knew enough about how these places worked, that I knew I had to act fast and not hold anything back. “Um…Hello. I’m here. What do I do?! I’m in a lot of pain. Please help me, HELP MEEEEEEE!!!” I was spinning around in circles swinging my murse around me. I think somebody must have called a code: CRAZY, because the next thing I knew I was in a wheelchair sitting at a desk with a woman asking for my I.D. Just as I pulled it out, I announced to the entire ER, “I’m going to be sick!!!” Magically, a pink bucket appeared from under her desk and onto my lap. In between retching and heaving, I apologized to the entire room, “I’m sorry everybody, I’m so sorry!” I heard giggling from the peanut gallery but I didn’t have the strength nor the quick wit to deal with a heckler in the crowd, so I let it go. Next thing I know I’m in triage and I hear one of the nurses say, “We can smell a kidney stone a mile away.” A very handsome, blue-eyed nurse named Gary tells me he is giving me a drug called Dilaudid. I feel it hit me in the back of my neck and then BAM! “That’s a Lindsay Lohan cocktail”, I mumble. “Mikey likey!”

I am wheeled to another room, given an MRI, where they confirm that I have two kidney stones, one of which is trying to make its way through my ureter to my bladder. The other is a much larger stone waiting in the wings of my kidney. I am wheeled to yet another room and as the nurse leans over me checking my I.V. I notice her name tag, which reads, Stella. Given the fact I am an actor and that I am flying high on a powerful pain-killer seven times stronger than morphine I give her my best Marlon Brando, “STELLAAAAAAAAAA!!!!” She just gives me a knowing smile and goes about her business.

An hour or so later the pain has subsided dramatically and I am discharged with a couple of prescriptions and a strainer to pee through and sent on my way.

The next couple of days were filled with intermittent bouts of pain, nausea, constipation and vomiting from the pain meds. Being in that kind of pain was very lonely and isolating. It made me think about people who deal with chronic pain, people who suffer in silence on a daily basis and how lonely they most feel.

On Thursday night, a friend suggested I try a hot bath before bed. I hadn’t had a bath in 20 years! I’m a shower only kind of guy, but thought it was worth a shot. I filled the tub and put on my New Age Essentials channel on Pandora. I laid there in that hot water and thought about the last few days and what I had gone through. I felt like a little boy again, minus the Mr. Bubble. I felt so aware of my body and my breath. I was comforted by the warm water and my breathing. I had found my peaceful place again. I dried off and went straight to bed. The next thing I knew it was 6:03am and I went to use the bathroom, and without any bells and whistles or drumroll or pain even, out popped my kidney stone. It was about the size of a small black pepper kernel. That tiny little thing had caused so much pain and suffering and brought me to my knees.

Looking back on it all, I think that that hot bath was a turning point. It was such a moment of self-preservation and being totally aware of my body and what was happening and accepting the pain and truly surrendering.

I do feel a little like a ticking time bomb now with that other stone waiting for the perfect inopportune moment to escape my kidney and send me back to the emergency room. But until then I will continue to take my power walks and my new nightly hot baths to find my peaceful place. I might even pick up a box of Mr. Bubble.

Second Thoughts

1347469654_oprah-winfrey-jane-fonda-441Last night, after I had written my most recent post, You Wouldn’t Even Dream That You Could Dream of a Moment Like This, I hesitated before clicking, ‘Publish.’  I wrestled with this feeling that here I was, taking the words of a black man who was talking about an experience that essentially belonged to a specific group of people, African Americans, and making it about me, a white male.  

On one hand, I’m a blogger, that’s what bloggers do, make everything about themselves.  They aspire to do it in a way that makes people see themselves in what’s been written, but there is a self-absorption inherent and even necessary in blogging. Last night, I wondered if I was making a mistake by writing about this quote in the way that I did.  Was I misinterpreting what Eugene Allen said?  Was there enough width to his comment that it could potentially inspire anyone who ever struggled with the idea of a dream being so unrealistic (at a certain vantage point) that one can’t see it as a possibility? 

Because I am obsessed with all thing Oprah, I woke up to an article on Yahoo about Oprah saying she was sorry that the recent Swiss store incident has turned into the international story.  It seems that in July, Oprah was in Zurich for Tina Turner’s wedding.  She went into a store and did not receive the customer service she hoped to receive.  She talked about the experience on a entertainment news show, while promoting The Butler and the story blew up.  The woman at the store retaliated with her own interview saying, “I don’t know why she is making these accusations.  She is so powerful and I am just a shop girl.”  Who really knows how the exchange went down.  Everyone has their side of any story and usually both people bear some culpability when bad behavior happens.  Could racial prejudice have played a part in this exchange?  Absolutely.  When I heard about the incident initially, I thought, oh, I’m sure it’s the shop girls fault.  You KNOW how Europeans are!  

If anyone was offended by my last post, I do apologize.  If anyone read it and thought, you don’t understand what it means to be black, you’re right, I don’t.  Sometimes I THINK I do, but ultimately, I don’t understand what it means to be black.  There is a saying that there is a black woman inside the soul of every gay man.  It’s glib, but I also think it’s kind of true.  I’ll never forget watching Fame and thinking that more than anyone, I wanted to be Coco.  I still want to be Coco.  (Arch your back a little, Coco.  Smile for me.)  I certainly don’t identify all that much with straight white males, I think nearly every one of my 73 blog posts affirms that statement.  If I am writing in a public forum, I am asking to be judged by words and my actions.  I hope I never come off as someone who sees himself as the expert about anything. I want to be part of the conversation, the dialogue. And if you are reading this, annoyed or not, and you read my last post, annoyed or not, AND you did not know who Eugene Allen was before you read my last post, I do feel that on some level, I succeeded because I’m really glad you know more about Eugene Allen. I’m also glad that, warts and all, you know a little more about me.

You Wouldn’t Even Dream That You Could Dream of a Moment Like This

images-2Today, I was watching Oprah’s Next Chapter, and Oprah was interviewing Lee Daniels, Forest Whitaker and David Oyelowo about their upcoming film, The Butler.  I can’t wait to see it and not just because it’s Oprah’s first movie in 15 years. (And not to mention Jane Fonda as Nancy Reagan!) I can’t make it through the trailer without tearing up, so I can imagine how the entire movie will affect me.  

The movie is loosely based on the life of an African American man named Eugene Allen who worked at the White House for eight different presidents, initially washing dishes and stocking cabinets, but ultimately rising to the position of maître d’hôtel.  He was invited to the President Obama’s inauguration and when interviewed by The Washington Post, he said, “I never would have believed it, in the 1940s and 1950s, there were so many things in America you just couldn’t do. You wouldn’t even dream that you could dream of a moment like this.”  

This post is not about politics or whether you think Barack Obama is doing a good job as a president. I myself am not writing about race, I do not purport to be an expert on the topic. I actually feel clumsy talking about it, even a little. It’s just that ever since I watched Oprah read this quote, it’s all I’ve thought about. We all dream. Sometimes the dreams are big, sometimes they are small, sometimes the dreams affect many, sometimes the dreams are only personal. But we all have dreams and buried under all the stuff that fills our brain, we also have dreams that we don’t even acknowledge, even to ourselves. Perhaps that is out of fear of disappointment or fear of failure or fear of not being worthy.  So, as a suggestion, tonight as you lay your head on your pillow, close your eyes and ponder your dreams. Spend a moment thinking about Eugene Allen or other people whose lives have inspired you. And ask yourself what is the dream that you would not dare to dream.

Ray’s Favorite Things

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There are two things that I have not fully recovered from:  1.  Oprah retiring from her talk show and 2. me not winning the lottery this weekend.  At work last week, we pooled our funds and bought Powerball tickets and Saturday was electric with the possibility that we would all be millionaires by 8:01 pm PST.  We did not win, but we laughed a lot, speculating how we’d spend our money.  

Who doesn’t love to give a gift?  Oprah did and her favorite things episodes were among her most popular every year.  Well, I’m not a millionaire and I do not have a talk show, but for a few minutes let’s pretend.  These are my favorite things!   Would that I could, they’d be coming to you in a big gift basket tomorrow morning!

1.  Magnolia Bakery Chocolate Cake.  Best chocolate frosting ever!  The cupcakes are good, but a slice of the cake is better!

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2.  A case of Piper Sonoma sparkling wine.  There are people that will never be able to look at a bottle of Piper Sonoma without thinking of me.  It’s my go-to bubble for nearly any occasion.  I could have sent you a bottle of Dom or a case of this.  I figured if I send you a case, you HAVE to throw a party!

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3.  Levi’s 501 Shrink to Fits.  My trademark dungaree since 1982.

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4. Pepperoni from Claro’s Italian Market.  The best!  And yes, there is a vegetarian option:  Olive Muffaletta.

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5.  Damon’s Gift Card.  There is a tiki steakhouse in Glendale, CA that is frozen in 1978.  They have the most delicious mai-tai’s in the world (I’ve done the fact-checking) and the prime rib’s pretty great, too.  

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6.  Sirius Satellite Radio.  When I bought my most recent car, it came with Sirius for free for three months.  Now I can’t imagine not having it.  And I love starting my morning listening to Frank DeCaro and Doria Biddle!

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7.  Four Plays by William Inge.  Self-explanatory.

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8.  Subscription to Sunset magazine.  For the little old lady in all of us.

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9.  A basket of popovers and strawberry butter from Popover Cafe.  

 

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10.  MAISON FRANCIS KURKDJIAN  Bergdorf Goodman 111th Anniversary 754 Eau de Parfum.  When Eric and I visited New York in January, I found this fragrance, exclusively at Bergdorf Goodman.  It’s $300 and my olfactory perception say it’s worth every penny.  I stopped into BG every day to squirt a little behind my ears.  It’s unisex, too!
 
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11.  My Mom’s Pork and Potato burritoes.  They are one of my favorite childhood foods.  I make them myself, but they never taste as good as Mom’s!
 
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12.  Tide Mountain Spring laundry detergent.  
 
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13.  Asics Tiger sneakers.  Sporty and comfortable and they look cute on everyone!
 
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14.  Izod Lacoste Polo.  Because for some of us, it will always be 1986.
 
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15.  A week at the Plaza.  It’s the only thing on the list I have not experienced first hand, but we’ll go together!  I’m sure it’ll end up being one of our favorite things!
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