After a weekend in a hospital

May 2025

I was taken to urgent care on Saturday morning early, when I awoke, laboring to breathe. I had been sick for several days, coughing and feeling exhausted, and had taken a COVID/FLU test to be sure I was not that sick. The home test registered Negative for both.

But when I awoke and found my oxygen was down in the 80s, and felt too weak to get dressed, I knew I needed to get medical help. My sister and brother-in-law had left for a week-long trip by car. I was alone in the house, in my little apartment, which they had built for me in the basement.

I called my niece, who was on call for me in their absence. She came over, made me some toast and a cup of coffee, helped me get dressed, and into her car. We took a walker since I was unsure how much walking I had to do.

I was taken into a room immediately and tested for COVID. This time the test was positive. I was hooked to oxygen, and an EKG was taken because I have a history of aortic stenosis, moderate, but there. Then I became upset when I was told I had an abnormal EKG test. Not bad, but enough that 911 had been called, and I was going to the nearest hospital by ambulance.

The EMT fellows were more than pleasant and helpful, but once in the truck, they did another EKG on me. They got the same reading, and I could hear my test results being given on the phone to a doctor at the hospital. Although I had no chest pain at all, no pressure, or nausea, it was obvious the men in the ambulance were afraid I was having a heart attack.

While one of them drove, another one inserted an IV in my right arm. Just in case, he told me. My blood pressure was soaring, and I am sure that was because I was stressed out. In a very short time, I was being removed on a stretcher at the Emergency Room. The nice young men were doing all they could to comfort me and let me know they were right there with me, and medical help was coming in to care for me.

I was feeling better with oxygen going into my lungs, but alarmed at all the concern about my heart. Finally, someone told the EMT guys that the doctor who read my EKG did not think I was having a heart attack. However, they would test my blood and see why my test had some abnormalities.

Soon, my niece came in to be with me. She was a great comfort, and I looked forward to their letting me go home soon. I knew she would be sure I had what I needed at my apartment.

But, a female doctor came in and told us that she felt I should be admitted to the hospital at least for a few days until they could check me out. My heart sank. I hate to even visit hospitals. I have spent far too much time in them when I cared for my mother for ten years and then spent awful times at Emory when my husband was admitted for cancer.

I was with my father when he was dying in the hospital. I had no good feelings about hospital. I stood by my dear aunt when she died in a hospital begging for help which never came. I saw the sketchy care given my mother and my father and grew angry and sickened at the kind of care given to my poor husband as I sat with him day and night for weeks.

I dreaded the following hours I would spend with total strangers who knew nothing about me, my health issues, my medicines, my needs. Nurses came and drew many vials of blood from my arm. A nurse hung a bag of liquid that dripped into my veins. I was told it was to hydrate me. Kind men with breathing machines came in ever three or four hours and had me breathe in chemicals that helped me for a short time.

When my niece left me to go and bring back some of my things, I called and asked for someone to help me go to the bathroom. I was tied to those tubes providing me with oxygen and fluids so I could not get up and go. As I waited for help, my need grew more urgent. I called and pleaded with them to send someone to help me. When finally, Val, the nurse arrived, she said, “Oh, I will put you on a ????, so you don’t have to get up.”

 She began busying herself putting together some kind of apparatus. I sat up on the side of the bed and in tears, I cried, please help me now to the bathroom. I can’t wait. 

Then she came over and began pausing the lines as I stood up. But she was too late. By the time I got to the bathroom, my gown was wet.

“Ok,” she said, “let me go and get you a fresh gown.”

This entire situation had turned out just as I knew it would. My stress level was over the moon and that did not help my breathing. I was furious.

Back on the bed, I sat with the wet gown just over my shoulders while she got the new gown open. At that time a man appeared in the doorway. His voice boomed out in broken English.

“Hello, Glenda Beel?”  No one ever pronounced my last name correctly.

With no regard for my privacy, he continued to talk while Val helped me into the clean gown.

When the nurse left, he came into the room and sat down. He asked me a hundred questions which I answered.

Then he asked me if I had my end-of-life directive. My gosh, I thought, he is planning for me to die here.

I told him my sister knew my wishes and I had them written down at home. “So,” he said, “if we have to put you on a ventilator, she would be able to tell us how long you would want to stay on it or if you would want to be taken off at some point?”

I can’t begin to express how this made me feel. I went to Urgent Care to get medication that would help my breathing as I had done before. I often get bronchitis and usually am given a Z-Pac. Instead, I was admitted into a hospital and talked to about my end of life wishes.

When my niece returned, I was very emotional as I told her about this experience. She was also concerned and went to talk to the nurse. She felt terrible because she had not been there with me.

She stayed with me that night. 

I will continue this saga in my next post.

 

 

 

 

Invisible Illnesses unknown to the Medical World

In today's world of modern medicine, I find I often have to do my own research and diagnose myself, then tell my doctor what I need.

Years ago, when I began to react to chemicals by getting sick or developing bad headaches, I searched until I found the answer to my problem. I lived in a small town in the mountains of North Carolina and my primary care doctor had no answers for me. But I discovered my wonderful nurse practitioner was willing to listen to me and help me.

I knew that when I was exposed to harsh chemicals, which are called forever chemicals today, I had to get outside and breathe in fresh air, or I could have an asthma attack. I changed my way of living. No chemicals in my house for cleaning, no fragrance products on me or in my house.

I asked my NP if she could prescribe home oxygen for me so that when I had an emergency from breathing some unknown product that affected me, I could breathe oxygen into my lungs. 

"Your insurance won't pay for this, you know," she said to me.

"I will pay for it, but I need a prescription to get it."

That understanding and competent nurse did write the prescription, and for years, I rented an oxygen generator I kept by my bed. As time passed, I found I often needed oxygen at night to help me breathe. Still, I didn't have an oxygen reading low enough for my insurance, even Medicare, to pay for it. I was told my oxygen had to drop down to 85 before Medicare considered I needed it. Mine often dropped to 91 or 92, and when it did, having the oxygen handy helped me remain out of a hospital.

Moving on to 2020, when I had COVID-19. I was so, so sick and did not know how dangerous this virus was because it would be a month before it had a name. Still suffering from symptoms, weeks later, I saw my primary care doctor, who diagnosed me with COVID-19. 

I lost my sense of taste and smell, which has never returned, and I had the virus two more times. I believe I would have been hospitalized if I had not had oxygen at home. 

Little did I know that now, years later, I would have long COVID, which is scientifically known as post-acute sequelae of COVID-19 (PASC) and commonly referred to as “post-COVID-19.”

I have all the symptoms listed by doctors at the Austin Health Center in Austin, Texas. Cough, shortness of breath, extreme fatigue after the slightest exertion, aching joints, muscle pain, loss of taste and smell, and possible damage to my heart and lungs. There is no cure, but there are ways to treat the symptoms, which I am doing most of the time. Extreme fatigue is the hardest to deal with. When I feel good, I want to do more than I should, and then I hit the wall and crash. I must go to bed and sleep for two or three hours. Sometimes, just going to the grocery store is too much. 

This post was written two weeks ago, but was not posted. Much has happened since then. Read my next posts. 

HAVE YOU EVER BEEN JOURNEY PROUD?

Could I be "journey proud" tonight? That is an old saying I heard all my life meaning I am excited about my journey tomorrow. I am going back to the mountains where I lived the past thirty years. I will read my poetry tomorrow night at the fabulous John C. Campbell Folk School in Brasstown, NC. That is in the far westernmost part of North Carolina. 

NCWN-West, our writing group in nine counties of western NC and adjoining counties in Georgia, hold a monthly meeting at the folk school where a writer and a poet share their original work with the community and with students at the folk school. Lorraine Bennett, a novelist and outstanding writer, will also read tomorrow night. 

I remember the first time I read my poetry at the folk school decades ago. I was scared to death. I had not ever enjoyed speaking before a group of adults. I had taught fourth grade children and kindergarten, and that was no problem for me. I loved teaching kids. But I, like many people, was terrified to speak to an audience of adults.

At my first reading, I wrote down every word I planned to say. Not just the poems I would read, but the patter between poems. I was please when later I was told no one knew I was reading every word I spoke that night. But the kind folks who were there made me feel welcome and seemed to enjoy what I said and my poems. It was a huge step for me.

Now all these years later, I have no problem talking to an audience and reading my stories and poems.

I don't know how I changed, but over the years as I read my writing at our monthly meetings for critique and as my poetry became published, I found I could stand before a group and talk easily. 

The book Estelle Rice and I wrote together, Paws, Claws, Hooves, Feathers and Fins, is in a third printing now. I will share some work from that book, and poems from Now Might as Well Be Then, published by Finishing Line Press in 2009. 

While there, I will see my dear friend, Estelle, now 100 years old, and other friends who are writers and poets. I am excited to go and I could not go if my sweet sister, Gay, could not go with me. It was difficult for her to find time out of her busy life to travel and spend three days away from home. She is practicing for a dance competition soon. She also sings in the choir at Alpharetta Presbyterian Church. She and her husband are loyal members and never miss rehearsal or Sunday service unless they are traveling. 

My sister, Gay

I am so fortunate to live in the same house with them, although I have my own apartment downstairs. Gay and I were almost like twins as we grew up together, sleeping in the same bedroom, going to college together and being roommates one year. We are best friends and share our joys, hurts, our sorrows, and our good times. We are the youngest of seven children, and all of our siblings are gone now. But we are blessed with caring nieces and nephews. 

We will enjoy spending the next three days together in the mountains even though we will be having a cool spell, even a frost one night, while there. 

I am not blogging as often as I did, but life gets busy and I take more naps now. I find a nap is healing and helps me get more done when I awake.

I look forward to being with friends, away from the chaos of the news, and happenings I can do nothing about. 

When I return home, I look forward to planting flowers, feeding the birds, writing stories, and teaching students what I know about memoir writing. I have an online class in April sponsored by the Institute of Continuing Learning in Young Harris, Georgia. I can teach from my home and my students can learn from their homes or wherever they use their computer. Life is good and I am grateful.

Take care my friends. Make your life an example for others and let me hear from you, OK?

The Power of Love

“When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace.”                                                 ---Jimi Hendrix   

I have been sick for the past week and ended up watching TV when I was not sleeping. With current news on all channels, I found it hard to watch anything that was not depressing.

While scrolling I found a conversation between Trevor Noah and a man named Simon Sinek. Evidently, Simon is widely known for his podcasts. I enjoy Trevor Noah and his outstanding memoir Born a Crime, so I tuned into the podcast. It was long but I was caught up in their conversation and didn't realize how long it was. 

The deep conversation between the two of them was an education for me. They talked about their fears, most embarrassing moments, what they liked, and didn't like, and what they had in common. 

They discussed that few men have these big conversations where they are vulnerable with each other. Simon said he tells his male friends he loves them although, that is something most men will not do. The conversation was about the lonely man with no one he could simply talk to when he had a problem. Simon says men should be able to call a friend and not get advice, but have him listen, simply listen, and support. 

They talked about friendship and how important it is to make lasting friends. I was impressed when Steven said he was lonely and not for people to be around him but for someone who would just be with him. 

"Sit in the mud with me and not try to fix me," he said. How often have I felt that way? When Barry died, all I wanted from friends was for them to sit with me and listen to me as I grieved and tried to find how to go on. No one could fix me.

This conversation between these two men gave me much to think about. They freely talked about their hang-ups. Steven hates small talk. He looks for a corner when he enters a room full of people. Yet he is a very successful speaker and podcast host.  

Like many I know, they find it awkward meeting new people. I was so like them in my youth. I was convinced I was being judged by others, and I knew all my flaws. I convinced myself I was not worthy before I entered the room.

I admire anyone who can walk into a room full of strangers and begin conversations. My husband, Barry, was the best at meeting people. It was not long before strangers were friends. Today, I enjoy meeting new people. 

Now that I am older and more experienced with social situations, I understand that most people have hang-ups about social gatherings. But I no longer feel I am being judged and, if I am, I really don't care. It took years of feeling unworthy before I reached this point. 

Trevor and Steven's conversation moved on to dealing with people who disagree with you. Trevor feels there is room for this divided nation to talk to each other. I hope we can do that.

I am pleased I learned about this South African native who had a difficult childhood in apartheid because he was mixed race. He is concerned that people today who have more material comforts than generations before them, are so unhappy, miserable with their lives, and even suicidal. Perhaps struggle is missing in their lives. When we struggle we are more appreciative of what we achieve.

It proves that too much effort has gone into making money, buying more things, and feeling successful in their big houses. But these things have not made them happy. What a shame that so much effort, energy, and sacrifice is spent on physical things instead of building relationships with people they love. It is only when one grows old and realizes that he is alone or is leaving those he loves, that what he appreciates most are people who care for him, those he has had little time for. 

I saw this in the lives of loved ones. They worked hard and strived to be financially successful. I am grateful they realized their goals. But were their relationships with their families as good as they would have liked? I hope so. 

It seems that the goal in our country today is to be ambitious, selfish, and often greedy if it makes us wealthy. Parents today push their children to go to the best colleges they can afford, to meet others on the same path. Two educated upwardly moving people marry and live the American dream. They never meet or know anyone who is struggling to pay the rent. 

My father never worked to be rich or famous. He never wanted to be above others. He worked to make a living for his family. He wouldn't have known what to do with great riches. His needs were simple.

Young Coy Council

My mother wanted to own a nice car one day. Once all her children were grown, married, and on their own, she saved and scrimped until she could buy that car. We were so happy to see her drive her Cadillac. 

But her purpose in life was to care for her family. She raised kids who made her proud because they were good people. Her eyes lit up and a big smile crossed her face when someone praised her children. 

Parents have the most influence on their children and how they grow up. Trevor Noah quotes his mother all the time. She influenced him by her example. She taught him so much about generosity and caring although she worked and struggled in a country where she could not live with Trevor's father because he was white. When she went out with her son she had to pretend he was not her child. If it was known he was her own, he could be taken from her by the authorities because he was mixed-race.

Governments can make life so hard for the people they govern. 

Our world is filled with refugees who are fleeing dictators, gangs of thieves and murderers, and evil people in power. I awake each day with a prayer of thanksgiving. I am grateful that my life has been filled with love and caring people. I don't know how I could live if I was not surrounded by them. 

My Mother, Lois, when I was a girl

Mother taught me to love and what love means. She loved her brothers and sisters and loved her parents deeply. Growing up with love in her life, she showed us by example. 

At this time in our country when we have such terrible disasters, fires, floods, and hurricanes, all around us, I hope we can all find in our hearts to love, to appreciate, to be generous with what we can do to help. I hope the spirit of meanness that hangs over the USA will evaporate like fog in the morning sun.

This comes from Maria Shriver's recent post concerning the aviation disasters of the past week.

May we think about all the families devastated by this, who lost people that they loved. Let us try to remember that life is fragile, and that we must always do our best to make sure our interactions with one another are kind, loving, supportive because none of us ever know what’s gonna happen in life. So may we always treat each other with grace and with love.

Angels walk among us - The Flood of 1994

Moving and going through boxes, I found some photos from years ago in Albany, GA. I will share some of them today on this blog. The recent flooding in Ashville and the mountains of western North Carolina brought back all the anxiety and helplessness I felt when we had a huge flood in SW Georgia.

In 1994 Gay and Stu had just moved to Atlanta where Stu began a new job. His father had recently died in Chicago. They had lived in Albany for approximately twelve years in the Radium Springs area on a street with big trees and great neighbors. They were about ten miles from Barry and me. Their house was empty of furniture and on the market to sell.

In July, the Flood of 1994 in Albany, Georgia was a catastrophic flood caused by Tropical Storm Alberto. Thousands of homes and businesses and thousands of people were displaced. Thirty-one Georgians were killed.

The Flint River crested at 43.82 feet, 23 feet above flood stage. 

The floodwaters submerged entire sections of Albany in up to 12 feet of water. You will see in the photos I share how high the water came up in the Moring's house. 

 

The floodwaters washed out roads and closed bridges. The casino at Radium Springs was damaged so badly that it never recovered. One of the favorite places in Dougherty County was eventually purchased and demolished by the state of Georgia. This was not the first time the Flint River had flooded in Albany, but it had never reached so far and into so many communities. 

The floodwaters caused a dam breach at Lake Blackshear near Cordele. With all that water coursing down the river,  Albany was hit hard. And worst of all, the water did not move out. The flooded homes and businesses were still filled with water two weeks later.  We could not get to Gay's and Stu's house for a long time. 

The Georgia National Guard was activated and responded to the crisis in Albany. The Georgia Air National Guard was dispatched to Macon to help with water purification. The Marines from Marine Corps Logistics Base Albany helped with disaster relief efforts. Many residents lost everything they had. I am so grateful my loved ones had already moved their belongings out of the house. But soon we were able to walk inside and see the horrible damage done there. 

Our local newspaper, the Albany Herald, was filled each day with information on how to clean your house, what not to do, and what you should do.

We learned that in some houses, only the sheetrock that was wet needed to be removed. So Barry and I and the Morings spent one weekend cutting and removing wet sheetrock in every room. The kitchen appliances, of course, were damaged and must be replaced. We were overwhelmed. 

Gay cutting out wet walls and floor coverings. 

It was hot. No airconditioning. Barry working.

Gay and Stu could not be present except on weekends, so I did what I could and was overcome with joy when a volunteer group of people who helped in such disasters arrived at the house. The first group that helped us was from a Presbyterian Church in Fayetteville GA. 

Some of the first ones to help with cleaning out the house.

Glenda with volunteers and a pile of debris from the house

But the angels who came next were from a Methodist church in the Carolinas. They were all adults who moved in, set up bunk beds, and began gutting the entire house. We did not need to come back until they finished. I wanted to bring them food or do something for them, but they refused. 

 You have done enough, I was told. Now let us take care of it. 

They were experienced in such disasters and it was evident that we would never have been able to repair the house. The good news is they made that house like new and the Morings could put it on the market and sell it. I have driven past the house some years later and no one would ever guess that it had been damaged by a flood.

These wonderful people who go out and help in floods, fires, or whatever calamity hits, are surely angels unaware. I have known other angels who were unaware they were more than typical human beings. 

To learn more about the horrors of this flood, read this article in the Albany Herald.

Many people in western NC are still without homes and need help. We need to make donations to the funds that are helping there. I do that as often as I can.

I am eternally grateful for those who can and will jump in and do what is needed for their fellow man. 

Be safe, my friends. The bad weather will hit us again soon. 

\

Christmas Lights After the New Year

Big oak trees on the farm where I grew up. Great shade for cows

After a frustrating few hours trying to get my car registered in Georgia but to no avail, I finally learned I had to contact North Carolina DMV.

I can't get a Georgia tag for my car unless I can show them my title which states I am the owner of my car. The document must be from NC showing where my car was registered the last time.

This was only the second day of aggravation for me and for Gay, my sister. We sat in a room with about 100 people waiting to see someone who would help me get a title and Georgia tag for my Toyota.

I was sick with a bad cold, but I had to get this before registering for my new car insurance. Another of those Catch Twenty-Twos. After two-plus hours of misery, my number was called. When I sat in the chair in front of the booth and told the woman behind the counter my dilemma, she promptly told me she could not get a replacement title, and without the title, I could not get a tag.

"This car is registered in NC where you just moved from. You will have to get your title from North Carolina." 

Remember. I was sick with a cold that had my nose running constantly. I was so miserable. My response was, "Why didn't someone tell us that? We expected you to get the replacement title. If we had known you couldn't, we wouldn't have wasted over two hours sitting in a hard chair with all those people." 

But, even though I was feeling so bad today, I got dressed and went to lunch with Gay and Lee, my niece. I knew I would feel better with them than sitting at home stewing. And that is when my day became brighter. When the three of us get together we laugh and crack each other up with our comments. 

However, the highlight of my day was tonight when Stu wanted to take us out to eat. We went to my favorite place, Slopes, in Roswell where I had the best fried catfish. 

On the way home Stu suggested we look at the Christmas Lights still up in many places. Most of them were beautiful, but once in a while, we saw a fallen angel or reindeer lying on the ground. Gay saw a set of pretty lighted deer in a yard, but tonight one of the deer lay on its side with only half the lights burning. He looked more like a camel now with a wide saddle of absent lights on his back. A setting of large snowmen was missing one on each end as they sprawled on the lawn.

Once lovely trees covered with hundreds of lights now had gaps in the coverage. A tree might seem to have a hole in the middle because the lights were missing. We began laughing at the conversations we imagined inside those big beautiful houses. 

"Dad, Look outside. Some of the lights on one of the trees are out." 

"Mom, Dad said we're gonna take down those lights in a few days. He said there's no point in trying to make them work now."

"But they look stupid now."

Balloon Christmas yard decor

I could imagine couples discussing the condition of the yard decorations, the balloons meant to be aloft. Big balloons that looked like characters from books lay half-empty on the lawns. I imagine the big gusty winds we had a few days ago played havoc in the yards of prominent people with fancy decor.

In our yard, a big gust swooped down and lifted the lightweight carport covering my car, and dropped it on the side of the roof. Within minutes, as I stood watching a second huge gust came in and lifted the carport again, dropping it down to rake across my Toyota, denting in a fender and scratching a long line across the trunk. Before we left the house, I asked Stu to take my car out of the carport area and move it across the yard as far from the "flying car umbrella" as it could be taken. And now my car is out of harm's way, I think. 

Life has its ups and downs, but when I am with Gay, Stu, and Lee, I am almost always laughing or feeling good. 

One day soon, my car will be registered with a Georgia tag. One day soon, I will have new insurance for my car with an agent here in Georgia. But tonight the laughter and love I enjoy with my family makes me smile and tonight I will sleep well. Tomorrow is another opportunity to enjoy life. 

Gay with Stu who is holding a giant Elephant Ear leaf in Hawaii.
picture by Glenda Beall

https://profilesandpedigrees.blogspot.com/

New Year's Eve 2024

Glenda

It is New Year's Eve in Roswell, GA and I am having a quiet time at home. 

I will be preparing Lexie for the fireworks that will begin soon. It terrifies her. She usually hides under my bed, but I am going to make her hiding place more comfortable tonight. I will put her bed and her cozy blanket there. I will play quiet music that I hope will drown out some explosions and shrill sounds. 

I am excited about the coming year. As I recover from the past two years, I hope for more interesting things in my "city" life. Over the holidays, I was included with Gay and Stu for a couple of parties where I met women who told great stories about their lives and the lives of their ancestors. Everyone has a story, and a unique story, to tell. I hope to do some readings and programs in this area.

Beginning in February, I plan to schedule writing workshop classes again, on Zoom. This year I want to include my writer friends as instructors for Writers Circle Around the Table. For ten years I had a writing studio, with that title, in my house in Hayesville, NC. Almost every week, we held a workshop in poetry or prose. We had outstanding writers come and teach at my studio. I had a guest room in the studio with a private bathroom. There were some kitchen necessities. The visiting men and women said they enjoyed staying overnight and sitting on my deck in the morning listening to the sounds of nature as they wrote down their thoughts.

Joseph Bathanti, NC Poet Laureate from Boone was a favorite. Robert Lee Brewer of Writers' Digest publications was another welcome instructor. Scott Owens, a good friend, came over from Hickory NC to do a reading and teach a class once or twice each year. 

Poet Scott Owens

I feel sure more writers and poets of their caliber will take part in an online class. I will share a portion of the profit of these classes with the NC Writers Network-West.

Remember, with Zoom, it doesn't matter where you live. You can participate from your own home or school or anywhere you have access to a computer and WiFI. 

If you want to be on my mailing list for announcements of classes, please send an email to me using this info: gcbmountaingirl(AT)gmail.com. Write Classes in the subject line.

Wishing all of you a healthy and happy New Year. Be grateful you have another year in which you can reach out to others, share your time and talents, and maybe change a life for the better.

Up Early, and Take My Advice, Please

Sleep alludes me most nights. No matter what time I go to bed, I can't go to sleep until 2:30 or after. 
Going to bed is not easy for me. Before I turn in, I take a bunch of pills. 
With a heart condition and Diabetes I never miss my night time ritual. And, if I have been sitting for a long time, hours, I wake up with pain in my back, legs and feet. 

This morning, my diabetes sensor awakened me. It is incessant. I can't ignore it. When I checked, my reading was 69, too low. At the same time, I had sharp nerve pain in my feet. I had to get up, eat something with carbs, and take pain meds, stretch, and use heat and ice for my back and feet.

Although I didn't get enough sleep last night, I can take a nap today. No appointments on my calendar! 
Great. I will finish my Christmas Cards and get them in the mail today. Christmas is almost here.

Life is Good.

Even though I have frustration and problems every single day, I am grateful that I have a lovely home provided for me. I am so thankful to be living in the same house with two people I love who seem to want me here. And---they love Lexie, which makes all complete. 

She usually sleeps late and gets up when I do, so this morning, when I had to get up early, so did she. Now she is back asleep in a chair, one she has chosen to be her own, with her blanket. I love that little girl. 

Sleeping Beauty

Dealing with Customer Service drives me Nuts!

For weeks now I have spent hours and hours on the phone with employees of companies I used to use at my house in North Carolina, but no longer need. I realize I made a huge mistake many years ago when Barry and I signed with Frontier Communication for our landline telephone. We made the awful mistake of signing for the company to take our monthly fees directly from our checking account. 

It was a no worry answer to paying my bill on time each month. But all the worry has come now when I realized I have been paying this bill months after I called to cancel it and four months after I sold my house. I don't get a bill each month because I don't need to send in a payment. It comes up on my bank statement. For months I had overlooked the fact that Frontier was taking 80 plus dollars out of my bank account even though I had called and canceled the account. 

Then the problem began. I called Frontier, waited for a long time to talk to a human being who said my account had not been cancelled because I had not produced a PIN for that account. Believe me that was the first time I had heard anything about a PIN. The person on the phone could not help me. So I turned to my bank and found they are limited in stopping an automatic payment from my account. The best they could do was stop payment on the last month's withdrawal. Needless to say, my week has been spent mostly on struggling with Frontier personnel who all said the same thing. And here in December, they have taken another payment for a phone that I don't have from an address that has not been mine since September 4 when we closed on the sale of the house.

The good thing is Frontier has a record of my call to cancel back in May 2024. Finally, today, in desperation while dealing with yet another employee, who had me go to the computer to receive some information I had to complete, she said. But her email never came through.

 At that point I was tired and about to scream. But instead, I told this woman on the phone in a very angry tone, "I know it won't matter to you or change anything, but I have a heart condition and breast cancer which gives me lots of stress, and now Frontier is going to give me a stroke."

She was quiet for a minute. I said, "I am sure there is someone there who could take care of this problem."

"Hold on a minute. Let me talk to my supervisor." The line was quiet for awhile, then she came back on and said, "It's handled now. You will be refunded immediately for the past three months and then we will refund to your bank account the rest that is owed you."

Now, if they will do what they say, I will be most happy. But why didn't someone do this a week ago and before I spent hours on the phone with those who said they could do nothing to help me until I produced a PIN? Just speaking to her supervisor took care of it all, but no one, and I asked to speak to someone else, but not until I told them about my health issues did anybody care enough to help me.

It is this kind of frustration that drives me crazy. 

And I have run into more than one since making this move. My message to you is NEVER sign an automatic payment plan where they can take your money directly from your account. Sales people will push you to do that, but don't. 

I am a big fan of Clark Howard who has helped me with another fight with a big company, and he advises to never sign an automatic payment plan like I did. 

When others have heard about some of these problems with big companies that won't refund what is owed me, I have been told, "Well, that is too much trouble. I would just let it go. Forget about it."

But, I don't have an income where I can just give away over $500 to those who would take it from me.

Be safe out there, my friends. Hope you are having happy times during the holidays. 

Know who to trust.

POETS AND WRITERS bloom and grow in far western North Carolina

Carroll Taylor, Lorraine Bennett, Marcia Barnes, seated at table with their new books.

When I see how many writers in our part of the state are publishing and selling books now, I am sure our NCWN-West founder, Nancy Simpson, would be all smiles. 

Twenty-five years ago, Nancy and I had the same goal. We wanted to make our local writers' names known throughout the state.

In the far south-western part of North Carolina in the southern Appalachian Mountains, this area was often forgotten as most natives and transplants thought the state ended at Asheville, a lovely town where tourists flocked every year. Sadly, this city recently suffered horrific damage from Hurricane Helene. Clay County where I lived for the past thirty years and neighboring Cherokee County were bypassed by Helene. 

Before I moved to Hayesville in 1995, the few serious writers in the area drove to Atlanta, a 2 1/2 hour trip, when they wanted to attend a meeting of writers, where they could share their work and get feedback. They were five or six teachers from Young Harris, GA and from Clay County, NC. One of them, Betty Sellers, eventually became Poet Laureate of Georgia.  

Today writers and poets meet every week in one of the local towns. The Moss Memorial Library has been a huge supporter of writers in Hayesville. But Georgia counties, Towns, Union, and Fannin, which are included in NCWN-West, also host writing groups. I am delighted that Coffee with the Poets and Writers which is a group I began as Program Coordinator the first time in 2007, is going strong and many new writers attend the free meetings and join NCWN, which makes them members of NCWN-West. 

Richard Cary, a member of NCWN-West, was featured at the December meeting of CWPW. His new poetry book is ready to order.

Brenda Kay Ledford will release a new book in the spring. 

David Plunkett recently published a book of poetry.

I know that Nancy is smiling as I am.