Dear CEO … I’m Writing to Say


November 05, 2015

Gloria Faye Brown Bates


Louisburg, NC  27536



Re:  Emergency Room Visit

November 03, 2015



Dear CEO //////////////////:

I came to your emergency room on November 3, 2015, Tuesday evening.  I came there having severe chest pain.

I am alone, no family excepting my husband, Stafford.  He was in Maryland that particular evening so, I had to come alone.  I didn’t want to call the rescue because I was worrying if it was ‘my imagination’ … or a real heart attack.  I didn’t want to bother anyone no more than I possibly had to.

When I arrived at your facility, I came in limping as I was in a serious fall earlier this month breaking my knee cap, and also … a spiral fracture in my fibula bone.

I went straight to the window ( I used to work in Emergency Registration years ago) telling the clerk that I didn’t know why my chest was hurting so badly but, I do have a history of congestive heart failure.  I almost died.

I told her I had been coughing but, not a lot.  This is what happened to me when I went into congestive heart failure in the past, went unconcious and woke up just before being intubated.

I ‘was afraid it was my imagination’ at that time, and hated to get my husband out of bed to get me to the hospital.  We barely made it the rescue building.  I was afraid this time … and to leave my home at that time of evening alone … something was wrong with me.

These things were going on in my mind while I drove myself.  I had my bluetooth device on so, my husband could stay on the phone with me as I drove.  He would know where I was ‘in case something happened’.  I was crying … I was hurting more than I can describe in words.

I was taken to the triage room where the nurse began talking to me.  Two nurses were talking to me.  I even told them I knew they were busy and I didn’t know why my chest was hurting so badly … I didn’t want to take up their time … but, I had to come there.  I was afraid of dying alone … no one there to help me.

I told them I had a history of congestive heart failure.  I didn’t know if I should come, not come … it might not be anything.  But … something was causing severe pain.

I told them I was alone, my husband in Maryland.  I had no family to call.

The nurse asked me questions as she did the EKG.  She said something that made me know she thought I could be coming there for pain medicine.  I quickly told her I wasn’t a ‘regular’ who always come to the hospital for pain drugs.  She said ‘so, you know about them, too”.  I said yes, I used to work in the emergency room.

After the EKG … she showed it to the nurse saying, “see there”.  It didn’t show anything wrong with my heart … so, they were thinking I came for pain medication.  They kept me out in the waiting room with many sick people, one vomiting … the others coughing.

I have a compromised immune system … I have been in the hospital many times for pneumonia.  I was afraid to be right in the midst of all the sick people.

I was smelling an awful smell, telling my husband whom I was talking to.  It smelled like a ‘dumpster’.  I told my husband it was making me sick.  I happened to turn around (they put me in a wheel chair), and a woman was putting a plastic bag of vomit in the trash can.  She began walking around holding the ‘vomit bag’.

I was taken in to get blood work, brought back out to sit, wait.  Then … taken to get chest x-rays, brought back out to sit, wait in the waiting area.

After about 3 hours … my chest had eased off from the pain … I went up to the ER Registration clerk, asked her when would a doctor see me.  She told me some of the people had been there 6 hours, and it possible I’d be there that long.  I asked to go find out, she just went back to her desk.

I told her through the glass … that my chest had quit hurting, and I was going to drive myself home … it had become dark, and I was nervous being alone going home.

She didn’t care whether I signed the AMA form or not.  I didn’t sign it.  She also, said I could call Medical Records in two-three days to get my medical records in order to know the results of my tests.

I left.  I never saw a doctor during those 3 hours.  I sat in the waiting area with many sick adults, and children.  No one checked on me while I was hurting.  It was like no one noticed.

I’ve had to be in the hospital many times through the years.  I’ve never felt so … uncared about.  No one was concerned.  The thought came into my mind … suppose this is how it’s going to begin being in the future.  People will die … no one cares.  Thinking to that night disturbs me, scares me.

Just to let you know, I have a problem taking pain medicines … I respect them, and am afraid of them.  Everyone who knows me … knows this.  I write a blog about this … in fact … the ‘whole world’ knows I can’t easily take pain medicine.

I am a cancer survivor (two thoracotomy surgeries, have thoracotomy syndrome meaning I am always in pain every day of my life.  I still can’t take pain medicine easily.  I’m sure you wonder why.  Because I grew up in such things, drinking and drugging.  I’m afraid of it … as a child I knew I’d never grow up being addicted to drugs, alcohol.

This has caused me to get into trouble with pain.  It makes it hard to control any pain I have … I let it go too far.  This is to let you know I don’t take drugs … I didn’t come to your hospital seeking drugs.  I was afraid, I was hurting badly … I didn’t know if it was my heart or … something else going on.

November 04, 2015, I went to my primary doctor and told him how I was treated, and being left out in the waiting area with chest pain, never seeing a doctor.  He and his nurse were concerned.

I’m happy to say they did an EKG, finding out my heart was okay.  I have an upper respiratory infection.  My doctor knows I never take medicines anymore than I possibly need … especially … pain medicine.

I wanted to write you, let you know my experience at your hospital … a hospital I always had affection for … I was born in //////// //////////  Hospital ‘many’ years ago.  I’m afraid now.

I’m not complaining at all, I just wanted to voice to someone there that mattered … being you.  I wanted you to know what happened.  I don’t care about trying to get someone in trouble.  I just wanted to simply tell you what happened.

I know my letter is a little lengthy … but, in this case it had to be.  Thank you for listening to me.


Gloria Faye Brown Bates

cc: File Cabinet/folder

Note by this Author:

This really happened to me recently … and it’s really scary looking at that visit in my mind.  Suppose all hospitals began worrying someone is there to get drugs … and not taking the patient seriously … leave them in the waiting area to die.

It’s sobering to think about this.  No one would have made me believe a person would be treated like this at this particular hospital … the one I was born at many years ago … always proud to say I was.

Now … I’ll have to tell this story along with saying I was born there.  Suppose … something had been seriously wrong with my heart … I have no comfort in thinking they’d let me see a doctor.  They didn’t when I felt I … was having a heart attack.  Scary.

I wrote my letter to the CEO not to get anyone in trouble, but to tell him what happened.  I don’t care whether I ever hear back from him.  An apology isn’t what I want … it doesn’t make me feel any better about what happened.  I simply just want someone who matters there … to know.

Photo, true account owned/written by Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee.

Damn Grief … Damn Extra Pain




Damn Grief … Damn Extra Pain

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee/@GeeGranny at Twitter




I can’t believe today … I choked up, tears began flowing down my cheeks … and heavy grief weighed on my Heart.  I wonder why?

I met up with someone I worked with many years ago at the hospital.  We both instantly recognized each other, began smiling.  We began … talking up a storm.

She told me that her husband had died, and that she had almost died.  I told her about my medical conditions, also.  We talked about how fortunate we both were.

She was shocked to know my son, Tommy … had died.  She knew him when he also, worked at the hospital.  All the women loved Tommy … Tommy was always kind, polite, soft-spoken.

I couldn’t believe when I was telling her … the heaviest of grief sat on top of me.  I held my grief back … because who in the heck wants to talk to someone who has lost someone.  All they want to do is cry, get pity.  Not me … I don’t require someone’s pity … I’ll walk away from them.  I don’t feel sorry for myself, and I sure won’t let someone feel sorry for me.  I just don’t have time to play ‘pity games’.

I had to stop talking about Tommy.  I just knew I could talk about him … now.  What in the heck happened?  Is it because just underneath the surface just as fish are beneath the surface of the water … grief was waiting to get me?

It’s strange how I think all is okay … out of the blue grief streaks out like a snake in the grass to try to strike me down.

I have had all the extra pain from my accident, and some other worries, and knowing Tommy’s birthday is just days away on my mind.  Yesterday evening my chest began hurting really bad.  Bad enough I became frightened.  I drove myself to the hospital in Henderson, NC.  I hope to never go back there.

They did chest x-rays, EKG, and did blood work.  Each time they did a test … they put me back into the waiting room where really sick people who were vomiting into bags, coughing, sneezing, blowing their noses.  I could smell the vomit … it made me sick.  I heard some people saying they’d been sitting there for 6 hours.

It began getting dark … I had been there for 3 hours … never saw a doctor.  I got and spoke to the ER Registration clerk … she said it was likely I’d be there several more hours before I could be seen by a doctor.  By this time, my chest pain had eased off … and it was dark outside.  This prompted my decision to leave.  I was by myself.  I had no one.  It didn’t matter … I wanted to get home.

My chest began hurting once again on the way back, but not so  much I felt I needed to go back to that hospital.  Like I said, I didn’t like how they put the patients into the waiting area each time they did a procedure … where people were very sick.  I have to be careful being around people who have colds, and such.  I can end up being in the hospital too easy.  I’ve had pneumonia too many times.

I can’t believe a doctor didn’t see me with severe chest pain.  Thankfully, I got better.  Suppose I hadn’t?  The good thing is I had Skip talking to me by cellphone … I had a bluetooth on.  He knew what was happening.

For me to leave home in the evening … you have to know the pain was very severe.  Enough so, I was worried.  I didn’t think to call the rescue.  I don’t like to put others to a lot of trouble.  I wondered if it was my imagination … or if something was really wrong.  I still don’t know what was wrong.  I do have a doctor’s appointment at 2:00 pm today.



Note by this Author:

When I used to work in the hospital ER … anyone who came in with chest pain was immediately seen by a doctor, not stuck back out in the ER waiting room.  Thankfully, I am okay now … but, they didn’t know if I was okay any more than I knew when I came in.  I wouldn’t have been there if I hadn’t been afraid.  I never just up, go to a hospital ER.

Photo/true account on 11-03-2015 are both owned, written by me … Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee



Laughter Echoes From the Grave …

Laughter Echoes From the Grave …

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee/@GeeGranny on Twitter



Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny as a young, beautiful woman who never took happiness for granted.




Ha! Ha! Ha!  Did I hear an echo of laughter from the other side?  It came from nowhere that I can see … I looked carefully.

I just got kicked in the teeth by someone I was told not to trust.  My Grandma Alma told me not to trust that person.  What happens?  Through time … be damned if she wasn’t right!  How did she know?  I thought I heard laughter … from the grave!

My first cousin told me that I had the wrong impression of someone who used to be in our family … I thought that person was truly good, and had loved her all through the years.  My cousin tried to warn me by saying, “Gloria, she’s not what you think she is”.  I would just nod my head showing I heard her.  I never wanted to argue.  I felt sorry for that person … she only showed me her ‘good’ side.

My first cousin got killed in a freak accident.  A log truck hit her head-on.  She didn’t get to tell me more about the person she told me wasn’t who I thought she was.  She didn’t have to … I began connecting the dots.  Oh, how right she was!  Ha! Ha! Ha! Did I hear an echo of laughter?  Did it serve my ass right?

Another first cousin told me about another family member saying don’t ever trust that person.  She’s the wicked witch of the west.  She’ll sweeten you up for the kill, stab you in the back … eat you!  She’ll try to find all your weaknesses, cut your legs out from under you.  Well … I never trusted that far to find out … never will.  I never heard an echo … none at all.  I pray he rests in peace.

He’s not the sweet, good person you think he is.  He’s been in your family for years, and you think he’s so good.  He’s really mean, ugly to your ……..  he does things he shouldn’t … has, throughout the years.  Why he even went with your ………. ‘s girlfriends! and ex-wife!  Disbelief … I learned by seeing, listening to the ‘horse’s mouth’.

Yes, he did all those things, and more.  Did I hear his laughter from the grave … do I hear the words, “I fooled you, bitch”!  I hope not … I always gave respect, geniune love that might not have been deserved … then again, that person treated me very good.

At one time in my life he made possible for me to have a home to come to as a young woman.  I was, and have always been grateful.  He never treated me out of the way … never.  So, for the person I thought he was … I’ve never regretted loving, respecting him.

He always treated me good … until at the last.  The last several years of his life … when I actually saw, heard from his own mouth … him dating and asking one of my …………’s girlfriends, and ex-wife to marry him.  The reason he wanted me not to see, hear, be around was … he saw his actions broke my Heart.

He actually told me things … he was embarrassed but, he had new-found freedom … I sat, listened quietly … not letting the pain, grief, disappointment show.  Somebody was right before they died … I don’t hear laughter from … her grave.  I only feel sadness.

I can’t tell you the grief in my Heart for so many close family members who have died … all in just a matter of maybe 8-10 years … some dying close together… not only on my mother’s side of the family … on my father’s side, also.   That’s not counting some of our Pups we used to have, love with our Hearts.  That’s not counting the friends we truly loved, cared about.

I truly loved, cared about every one of these people who died … as a child.  I even loved them after being mistreated by some of them … I grieved for them after each died.  Strange enough … the ones I loved most … as a child … have died.  The very shaky foundation my young life was built on … pure crumbled.

There are some family members living today … I loved them with my Heart as a child … in adult life … we’ll never see nor be a part of each other’s lives.  It’s the natural ‘hate thing … natural distrust’ we all inherited in our make-ups.  Love is there … but, there’s no way anyone would, could know it.

I have a brother I love who lives not 5 miles away … I’ll never talk to, see him again in his/my life.  I have another brother … same thing.  Isn’t life sad?  There’s no way it can happen.  No love, but love-hate … no trust … no foundation to meet on … all crumbled away with time.  Family members being jealous, or in-laws … separation as children, not growing up together … no bonds to hang onto.  The young, tender bonds were snapped, stretched through time when growing up apart … when they broke, that was it.

Life is sad … this said … I will say I love each one in my Heart … I have already accepted such some time ago … I’ve coped with it … and let go.  It’s all one can do … I can’t just … lay down and die because I can’t have family relationships … of course … I wouldn’t.  I’ve come too far, coped with too much to  … just give up.  I have my Grandma Alma’s fighting spirit … it isn’t there ‘for nothing’.

I must have some purpose in life … though I’ve never figured it out all these years.  Only once did I ‘figure out why’ … when I survived cancer.  That was when I began getting recovering from cancer.

Skip was diagnosed with cancer in the 3rd year I was beginning to grow stronger … I ‘knew’ it was for me to care for him just as he did me … he could see I was recovering from being near the edge of death … and he could do the same.  I remember telling him right in the oncologist’s office after she told him … ‘now, I know ‘why’ I made it.

I should have died 16 years ago with non-Hodgkins lymphoma.  Skip had colon cancer … he is a 14 year cancer surviver … colon cancer.  We survived … cancer.

Do you know what was most strange about those years of fighting for my life?  Not one family member … ever knew or acknowledged how sick I was.  They would drive right by the house we lived in … if Skip happened to have me outside on the porch … they would wave cheerfully, never missing a beat.  No one ever stopped, nor called.

I am amazed thinking back at that.  My mother would care sometimes … then, her youngest sister would make her think I wasn’t sick.  Jealousy … pure jealousy.  Her youngest sister always was jealous of any of her sisters’ children.  Her tongue was her weapon … mean, evil words came from her mouth … yet … she could say loving words, caring words that would melt my Heart.

She wanted her sisters to always have their attention on them.  The good thing is I wasn’t aware of this until several years later.  My mother said her youngest sister would always call me ‘The Queen’.I never became angry … I could only feel deep sadness.  I still loved her.  I wanted her to love me, too. She secretly hated me, was jealous of me.  I won’t even go into things she did to hurt me, then pretend she never meant to.  I wasn’t the only daughter she did that to …of her sisters’ children.

I could keep on writing as more memories float to the surface like bubbles in the ocean.  My writing begins to go on this path, that path in my life through time.  I will stop here.

Sometimes, when I learn something in life … or find out something it seems everyone knew but me … I wonder if I hear echoes of laughter.  Echoes of laughter fromt the graves of my … loved ones.

Note by this Author:

Photo/story owned, written by me, Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee.

Grief, pain are old friends of mine … I don’t think I ever knew life without them after the age of nine.  They were all I had to hold onto … happiness were those brief times of sunshine in my life.

Happiness was something I always felt wasn’t meant for me … I used to think I wasn’t good enough, important enough.  I never take happiness for granted.  I enjoy it for all it’s worth when it happens in my life.  🙂  It’s sort of like when being a little girl … I knew Barbie Dolls were for other little girls … I knew somehow, they were never meant for me.  I, also, knew that other little girls could be in the Brownies … it wasn’t meant for me to.  I knew I wasn’t good enough.

It’s a good thing we grow up … cope with painful things in life … learn to live, handle all.  I think I did well.  🙂  That’s why when I was beautiful in my younger life … it meant the world to me … I was ‘good enough’ for … everything.  I had everything and everybody liked, wanted me.  Isn’t life sad?

People love material things … and if they think they can get something from someone … they will grovel at their feet.  Just watch beautiful, ‘rich’ people … just watch yourself … you will find that you do the same thing.  Life is life … it is what it is.  You might not like it … but, it’s the way humans are.

Oh … I wonder if I hear echoes of laughter from the graves of my loved ones?  I remember being told as a beautiful, young lady I used to be told … ‘don’t get so high up … the higher you go … the harder you fall’.  I fell hard … Ha! Ha! Ha!

Isn’t life sad?

I Carry My Own Baggage

I Carry My Own Baggage …

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee/@GeeGranny on Twitter



Photo owned by me … taken in my closet … Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee




I have been sick for over a week now … I only have mild discomfort in my lower left side now.  It has been excruciating pain all week.  I have diverticulitis … among other things.  I’m not knocking it … the oncologist said I should have died 16 years ago.  So, truthfully … how can I complain?



I can cry, moan and groan because I hurt, and take medicine and all ‘that sort of thing’ … but, I never think I can complain.  I tell myself this over and over … ‘hellfire, it hurts so bad but … I’m not complaining’.



Now, I don’t tell you about crying if something hurts.  I’m not super woman , you know.  I don’t tell you when I suffer a lot.  It doesn’t do any good to complain … and to be truthful … who gives a damn?  Oh, another thing … what good does it do?  Does it make the pain any less?  No.  Why should I mess your day up?



You see people who can’t wait to make you sorry for them.  Woe is me … feel sorry for me.  I’m not going to make anyone feel sorry for me.  I’ve suffered in one way or other most all my life … I’d rather make someone not like me enough to keep them from being close enough to see me hurting.  I will deal with my own pain.  You won’t ever have to.



That’s not saying I don’t truly appreciate people caring.  It means so much.  I mean it really touches me if I mention I’m not up to par … and someone cares.  I’m amazed … they don’t have to do that.  I never take anything for granted.



Don’t expect me to go on and on about ‘oh poor me, I was hurting so bad’ … I’m not.  I’m too-ready to get past it so, I can think, do other things.



It feels good to feel good once again.  You don’t have to know how much I have suffered.  I can carry my own baggage.  🙂




Note by this Author:  I am so glad to almost be well … it has been hell 🙂  Photos/how I really feel owned, written by me … Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee.


Turning Cries into Smiles …

Turning Cries into Smiles …

Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee/@geegranny on Twitter


Knees aching in excruciating pain as she tried to stand up.  She picked up a book … oh, how her hands hurt.  She began to walk … placing one hand on her right hip.  Oh God, the pain.

Thankfully, she’d be going to the doctor to get injections to enable her to walk, move without the inflammation in her body.  Get medicine, not for pain … that wastes time … she would get medicine that would help the inflammation, make it heal up.

Her chest began to throb in the ‘forever pain’ she lived with.  Thoracotomy Syndrome.  Two thoracotomy surgeries saved her life … saved her from the non-Hodgkins lymphoma that was on the outside of one lung, resting on her heart.  The second surgery was to remove the non-Hodgkins lymphoma that had come back inside her other lung.  The surgeon removed a portion of her lung.

She had several more medical conditions that caused her grief but, whichever one hurt her the worse at this very moment … was the one that was most important.

Sixteen years ago … all of her medical problems began when she became very ill.  It took several months to diagnose non-Hodgkins lymphoma.  She couldn’t be treated until they knew what to treat her for.  She grew weaker, losing all her weight, began to live in a dark world as time went by.  She almost died … the morning of the first surgery she was almost dead.

Sixteen years later … unknowing to her … she found out that she shouldn’t have been here today … 98% of the patients with what she had … didn’t make it … they died.  She couldn’t forget the doctor rolling his stool up to her, looking her straight in the face, said, “you shouldn’t be here today”.  He went on to explain.  Cold chills went over her body.  She thought a lot about that moment when he told her.

She was lucky all these sixteen years to get to feel pain … to hurt, to cry from the terrible pain she suffered every day of her life.  Damn … she wouldn’t have to suffer at all if she could be a drug addict.  Who is better off … she or … someone who is addicted to drugs so they never had to feel pain?

All these … sixteen … years she tried to live each day without pain medicine.  A lot of times when she was alone … she cried.  When she  was around someone … her cries turned into smiles.  She never burdened anyone with her pain.  No one really knew about it …

Not only that … God, wasn’t she lucky to be alive?  Lucky all these sixteen years to feel pain?  Yes, yes … she was.  That is why she turns her cries into … smiles.

Author’s Note:  This is all-too-true in my life … that’s okay, I’m here sixteen years later.  In my case, it feels good to … hurt 🙂

Photos/article owned, written by Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee/@grannygee

Sometimes … I Cry For The Pain Of It

Photo I took of moon early one morning when sitting at my desk … the moon was beautiful …..



Sometimes … I Cry For The Pain Of It

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

Walking into the room, I look around … every wall, every nook and corner, is white. I have walked into a … white room … nowhere is there another color, nor an object. The room is full of … white.

Pain is like that, sometimes … in my life. It’s like the white room, I can turn all around me, looking for relief … and like the white, there’s only pain surrounding me … no happiness in sight. It’s all ‘white’ … dark pain.

Strange enough, all the while I feel happiness, I am sad. I’ll always be sad … too much has happened in my life … there’s no choice but, to be sad. The good thing is … I manage to find some happiness, anyway. I’m always looking for something to be happy about. I try to help myself … always.

Sometimes, though … I’m like the white room … nothing’s in sight but, the all-white that over-rules anything else, no matter how you would try to mix happy colors in. Sometimes, I cry for the pain of it … there’s nothing else in sight. If there was … it wouldn’t make any difference … too much in life has happened. I cry for the pain of it … even when happy.



Photo/story owned by me, Gloria Faye Brown Bates/ aka Granny Gee   #pain


It Hurts So Bad… But, It’s A ‘Good’ Thing, Too

It Hurts So Bad…  But, It’s A ‘Good’ Thing, Too

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee


Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee… 2013


I  have been at the doctor’s office for half of today… and waited in the pharmacy for a good while… to get medicine.  Now, why am I telling you about this?


Well, I have been thinking about something.  I’m betting that there are many people who read my stories, who can identify with me when it comes to … having to live with pain … for the rest of your lives.
Ever since being a little girl from the age of nine, I have lived with some form of pain, be it physical… mental… and after many surgeries… chronic pain.


Before I go any further… let me tell you this ‘just so you will know’… you won’t ever hear me complain because of the pain in my body.  You may see tears in my eyes, see the strain in my face… I won’t let you hear me cry.  It’s rare… I show my weaknesses to anyone.


Why won’t I complain about pain?  Because… truthfully, I’m so fortunate that I can feel it.  I remind myself of this often… I’m lucky I can feel pain.  I’m thankful when it isn’t so bad that I can’t hardly bear it… lately, it’s been more than I can bear… because of the ‘extra’ pain in my body.  Sometimes… that happens.


Feeling pain reminds me that I’m so lucky to be alive.  The surgeries saved my very life… I was almost gone when the first one was performed on me.


I have ‘forever’ pain from two thoracotomy surgeries… normally, if a person has one of them… they only go through one.  I went through two… thoracotomy surgeries… in one year.  Oh my… you can’t imagine the pain from them… it’s been twelve years now.  Nerves are severed… there’s no ‘fixing them not to hurt’… one has to resign themselves to the pain.


Not only that… a rib was removed during that surgery.  That is awful pain, afterwards…  That happened to me… and in one of the surgeries, a portion of lung was removed.    The first surgery, a large mass was removed from the other lung… it was resting on my heart.


Cancer… Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma.  I was diagnosed with it in 1998… my life, my body changed.  Guess what?  This is something I never forget… I’m so happy to be here… I love life.  Pain or not… limitations in what I can do… it’s okay.  I’m here.  :))) I will cope with it… cry or not.  You won’t know I cry… unless you see my eyes.


I don’t complain… in fact, all these years I’ve never asked for medicines to help me with the pain.  I am proud of that in a way… but, I’ve dearly paid for it… I have suffered like no one would believe.  Doctors, nurses … understand why… I told them.   It’s hard for me to ask for… or take medicines for … pain.


It stems from childhood when I would stand in my Grandma Alma’s bedroom… she had a little table beside her bed in front of the window.  I can still see it in my mind… feel the fear I felt when I would stand there as a little girl… looking at … all those bottles.  All those bottles… why, she would … die … if she didn’t have all that medicine.  My Grandma Alma was very sick…


I remember as I stood there, looking at all those little brown bottles, some blue… each with their white caps… I promised myself ‘when I grew up, I was not going to take a lot of medicines like that’.  So, far… I’ve succeeded in keeping the promise of that little girl I was at one time.  I would cease taking a medicine as soon as I knew I didn’t need it anymore.


I would tell myself that if I depended on so many medicines… and ‘something happened’… and I couldn’t get them, I would die.  I would feel fear that my whole life would depend on all those little bottles to survive.  Now… when disasters ‘really happen’… I worry for the thousands of people who ‘for-real’ have to worry about their medicines… because ‘something bad really happens now’….  floods, terrible storms, hurricanes, earthquakes, tsunamis….


If I didn’t feel a medicine was ‘good for me’… I would give it one week… never take it again… if ‘it didn’t feel right’.  My ‘Gloria Opinion’ is for ‘me, only’… if I don’t use judgement to help take care of myself, too… then, something bad will happen.  Doctors are wonderful, save lives… but, there are some who are not up to par as they should be.  You be your own judge of what you do… I don’t suggest you doing what I do… I am writing about myself.


For example, about 5 years ago… my allergies were giving me a fit.  I decided to go to a doctor I’d never been to.  I was tested for allergies, already knowing what I was allergic to… I was hoping to get medicine to help me not to suffer so.  It was not to be…


That doctor looked me straight in the eyes, told me something shocking… he said I had asthma.  I looked back at him, asked him was he sure… he said ‘yes’.  He put me on an inhaler… sure enough, I became ‘sicker’, felt like I had asthma.  I began over the next week or so, to have panic attacks.  I couldn’t breathe…


Thankfully, Skip took me to ‘our’ hospital in Raleigh… and my cardiologist was close by… he came by the ER, and asked me, ‘what in the hell are you doing in here’?  Just several weeks prior, I had been to him… and I was on ‘even keel’…


Skip told him about the doctor I’d gone to… I was admitted to the hospital that night.  The next day, I was tested thoroughly to find out… that doctor misdiagnosed me!  I did… not have asthma.  I ‘knew’ I didn’t … I had been in and out of the hospital, going through so many tests… someone would have found it …if I had it.


When I got out of the hospital, I was okay.  The medicine was thrown away… I never went back to that doctor.  I never got medicine to help my allergies.


I was told that ‘unfortunately… there are ‘bad’ doctors, too… who will do what that particular doctor did… to gain patients.  I knew that, too… but, I still got caught up in it.  I worked in a hospital… and saw, heard many things… I should have known better.


Oh… ‘I’ve never had ‘asthma’ … since.  I do suffer from allergies… still.  That’s okay… at least, I’m not taking unnecessary medicine that would eventually harm me.  One has to pay attention to their own medical conditions…. read, read, read… ask questions.


Learn what to ask… know the names, how to spell every medicine you take.  Know what your medicines are for… pay attention to how they make you feel… if it doesn’t feel ‘right’… talk to your doctor.  Sometimes, one has to go… to another doctor.


Truthfully, I know… I bet you know people who have taken a ‘shoebox of medicines’ for years.


Even when they didn’t have the medical condition anymore… they still took the medicine originally given for it… just kept adding bottle after bottle of different medicines through the years to their ‘shoebox’… until there were many bottles.


You hear people, just as I do, say… “I take 15 different medicines… I take 18 medicines in a day”….


I’m not a doctor, so… you can only read my story… maybe it’ll help you to ‘arm yourself with knowledge’… begin to ask questions… maybe … change doctors until you find one you are comfortable with.


You see on the news about ‘bad’ cops, lawyers, judges, nurses, doctors….. just because someone is labeled ‘cop, lawyer, judge, nurse’… so on…. doesn’t mean they are perfect.  When we were little… we were brought up to almost believe they are ‘Gods’…


We all know ‘good’ people who ‘really are bad’…. just as we know people who are really good.  One has to pay attention when it… touches your life, your loved ones’ lives.  Just because ‘someone is something’… doesn’t mean … ‘they are a good something’….


The doctor asked me this morning ‘why did I let myself wait so long to come when I could come …get relief from the pain’?  I looked at him and told him, it’s a ‘childhood thing’… also, that really I just didn’t know ‘why?’
I’ve been fussed at by doctors/nurses… through time for being like this… no matter, I never changed.  I still didn’t ask for medicine to ease my pain.


This year has been by far… the worse year for pain in my body.  The past 3 years have been by far… the worse for mental pain… losing my only child.  This year has been the worse year for the chronic pain in my whole body… from every surgery, every scar on my body.


Pain is just as much a part of my life as breathing the air I breathe… it’s ‘why’ I live.


I’m used to living with pain… I never get used to it.  It hurts so bad… but, it’s a ‘good’ thing, too.  :)))


Do You Know The Power You Have As A Person?

Do You Know The Power You Have As A Person?
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee


Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

I was thinking about the past, to a time when I last saw some of my ‘family’. Family on my father’s side…. I had been battling my own illness, been through two major surgeries, chemotherapy. I think back to the treatment I received from them.

I looked really, really ‘bad’. I had been diagnosed with non-Hodgkins lymphoma. I was deathly sick… I lost weight too fast, and my airway closed off until I couldn’t speak above a whisper.

The mass was on the outside of my lung, resting on my heart… closing off my bronchial tube. This went on until finally… I was diagnosed. At first, no one knew… until after many tests… I was dying. I could barely walk… I had entered the dark world.

I didn’t know anything, but… somehow, managed to walk on my own. That fighting spirit…. I spoke from the darkness I was in… Skip would talk to me, I couldn’t see him. I thought I ate, said I’d eaten… never knowing I hadn’t eaten anything.

Something wonderful happened… I didn’t know it. I’d lost probably 50 lbs. in a short time. I never knew it… nor got to appreciate it. Too sick. You know I’d been happy about that… if I had ‘known’. :)))

I don’t know of a lot of people who can look ‘beautiful’ when they are battling death to live life. Do you? Chemotherapy takes a lot out of a person…. side effects last for years, even to the day one dies. I know.

Your body is beaten down… you keep struggling to ‘get back up’ each time. You are knocked back down by death… to see if you have a fighting spirit to get back up. It happens time after time… until you become stronger, better.

And… if people are added to your battle… to make it worse… if you survive all that… you have become stronger. Oh, God… I made it… that was such a journey.

After surgeries that take your physical strength away… chemotherapy finishes up the job… you are lucky you can even walk… much less do what I did. I drove for two hours to go to my Grandmother Lola’s funeral. I was in a ‘bad’ way when I got there.

I just stopped for a moment to think about that. Skip wasn’t able to travel with me that day… he was on a trip.

I was all alone, not used to going out by myself. It’s strange… no one there at my ‘family’s gathering’… seemed to notice, care. Of course, ‘me being me’… I never complained. I never shared often how I was feeling, especially when I was ‘at my weakest’. I knew people treated ‘weak people’ bad…

It’s taken all these years until this very moment… to realize that. Not one person mentioned my illness, nor was glad to see me better. It was like they… didn’t know, or… acknowledge it. Whereas, I’d run, not walked… to their side to be there for them. To make sure they were okay, after ‘knowing’ they were fortunate to be alive.

I would have kept sensing them… to ‘try to feel’ if they were alright. I would have been… kind. I would have been … protective. It’s ‘my nature’ to be like that… I don’t care who, or how someone looks… I will protect … if possible.

No one cared… no one cared. I sit here in amazement… as I see all of them in my mind’s eye. I look at ‘each one of them’… I smile a sad smile now. But… I just thought of something else… ‘it’s my fault’.

Yes… it’s my fault… ‘I didn’t tell them I was so sick, the trip had been hard on me’… that day. I didn’t tell anyone that I was worried about driving 2 hours on the busy interstate, to get back home after the funeral. I didn’t tell them I was afraid. There wasn’t any one person, I could have asked for help from.

I know ‘several of you’ who were there that day… are reading my life stories. I remember ‘you, and you… and you… and you’….. and how you treated me at the most worst time in my life. You know that saying…. something about … ‘I wouldn’t care if you were dying’… well, ‘you all’ taught me the true meaning of that saying. Thank-you.

I really mean that… it just added to the things that ‘I know how they feel’… ‘I’ve been there, done that’, sort of thing. The good thing is… I don’t hate you, and you, and ‘you’ who are reading this ‘now’. I honestly don’t.

You thought I was a ‘goner’, and I’d never live to remember it. I do remember… but, I don’t have hard feelings toward you. I would never say, ‘do you remember when’? I wouldn’t have to, because… of course, you do.

You may just find out how it feels from your ‘families’ when you become weak in your older life… I do believe in people knowing how it feels to be treated the way they treat people, especially at a time that person’s fought to live, and that person loved you, was glad to see you… you turned your back on them.

And… laughed, made fun of them? Because …of how they looked? That’s ‘why’…. Camie, the little puppy I rescued… was ‘thrown away’… that’s why she was ‘left to die’… she didn’t look good enough, she was too sick. I didn’t turn my back on her… I gathered her up in my arms… I didn’t know what I was going to do to save her… but, she ‘damn-well’ wasn’t going to die alone. I cared.

I promise that I remember probably every person who hurt me when they saw me… turned away, ran the opposite way…. when I was struggling, battling to live. I wouldn’t have ever run away from any of you… I would have come to you, let you know I cared, and was glad to see ‘you’.

I have to say that one older man that I always loved, respected through the years… shocked me when I was so sick… we were in the supermarket. He didn’t see Skip… I’d turned the corner… when he saw me, he began talking fast… I couldn’t understand him… he turned away, almost ran to get away.

There’s nothing stranger to see than, someone ‘acting completely out of character’. I stood there … stunned. What did he say? I feel pain… he ran away. It hurt me so much that I had to hold onto myself… when Skip came up, he asked me if I was okay. I told him I was just very weak… I couldn’t tell him. I was so embarrassed to be treated that way by someone we both liked, respected. I really felt… awful.

A couple years later, we learned that the older man had cancer… and he… died. I felt sad for him. I really liked him, I had always thought he liked me, too. Isn’t it ironic?

Same for the treacheous step-mother I told you about in a previous story… she had cancer… died within a couple of years after she did wrong. Isn’t it ironic?

I could name ‘more’ who had cancer… have died, since I was battling to live from my condition… and from how I was treated by … them. I cared for them; I loved them… if I had known, or seen them… I would have ran toward them. They wouldn’t have died being hurt by me… I would have.

Skip made me go with him to the supermarket, and places when I didn’t want people to see me… I was so sick. I had never been out in the public looking like I did. I had never seen myself look the way I did, when I looked in the mirror. I had always been dressed very nice, every hair in place… and ready to go anywhere. Looking the way I did… I lost every bit of pride I’d ever had.

You see, I did have a beautiful head of hair, long and curly. I loved my hair… I took pride in my big head of hair. I lost it to the chemotherapy medicines to save my life. I had to wear a wig, adding to the ‘look’ I was wearing.

Not only that… when it did grow back out to several inches long… I had to have surgery again… the cancer had returned to the inside of my other lung. I had chemotherapy again… I lost my hair for a second time. Can you imagine what this does to a young woman? She’s fighting for her life, people she loved… trusted turning their backs on her… and lose what we all treasure … her hair?

Skip didn’t want to leave me, when he had to go to the supermarket, stores… he wanted me to fight harder to live; wanted me to do the things I always loved to do. He wouldn’t ‘let me be’… he wouldn’t let me ‘just sit’ when I was too weak… he ‘meant for me to get well’.

Skip is my hero… he knew how to ‘invoke that fighting spirit’ … when it sagged. Guess what? I’m the same kind of person… Skip is. When he later became ill, diagnosed with colon cancer while caring for me… I meant to be well enough to care for him. I ‘had to become stronger’… and, I did.

I, also, ‘knew how to invoke that fighting spirit’. We ‘meant for each other to live’. We are here… now. :)))

When I went with Skip ‘out’… people I liked, cared about…. turned away from me. Why? Did they think they’d die… if they acknowledged me? People ‘used to love me when I was beautiful’… I learned what they’d do when seeing me when I was at ‘death’s door’.

Can you imagine the pain… grief added to my struggle? Did you know… all of ‘you’…. were God-fearing, ‘good’ people, ‘christian people’ who did this to me? I knew ‘each of you’, I knew the very churches you went to… I knew you were ‘supposed’ to be fine, upstanding citizens of the community with your ‘good’ selves.

You were good… I don’t doubt that at all. I wonder ‘what went wrong when you showed no compassion for someone who was deathly ill’? What in ‘your Bible’ told you ‘to turn away’?

I’ve sat many times trying to ‘put myself in your shoes’… to understand ‘why’ you did the way you did. ‘I swear, I just can’t figure it out’. I can’t do that to someone… I hope I never do that. I am a good person, who cares with her heart for both people, animals.

I’m not a ‘christian’ who goes to church to fool, pretend to others that I’m something I’m not. Don’t you get so tired of seeing this happen? I do get sick of it… I stay to myself, because I just simply can’t tolerate being around ‘false’ people. Be yourself… you’ll be happier being ‘true to yourself’… I promise. I am.

You went to your church, probably… that following Sunday… sat there with a sweet, little contented smile… thinking about ‘how good’ you’d been all week, forgetting …how you acted at the supermarket… maybe that didn’t ‘count’…..

Some years later, I would meet you at the supermarket, stores, I would see how uncomfortable you were… ‘you remembered how you treated a dying person’… now, you didn’t want to speak to a … person who won their battle to live. Aren’t you the ‘fine one’?

You have to be proud of yourself… you never had to feel a thing… nor see… you turned your backs, with your Godly selves. You didn’t waste your christian-comforting words on me… it would have been like snagging up on a limb underwater, when fishing. Too damn much trouble to get … free. There’s more fish to catch…

I don’t want to go to ‘your heaven’… at all. I don’t know of even… one real christian. If I did… that’s who I’d like to be associated with. No one is perfect… I don’t care who you are. I truly do… not believe… one person is ‘that perfect’. I really tried to be for several years out of my life… no matter how good I was… ‘I wasn’t good enough’…

Just because ‘you aren’t perfect’ doesn’t mean you treat people badly… especially when… they are at a point in life… a smile, even a kind word could make all the difference in them wanting to live… or to die. Think about that… with your christian selves… when you are sitting there in church thinking you are so… Godly.

Do you know the ‘power you have as a person’? Just moving your mouth in the tiniest of smiles, if you didn’t want to smile at all… can comfort someone without you realizing it.

You could even just ‘smile’ with your eyes, if you didn’t want to move your lips. You could barely ‘nod’ your head; barely ‘move your hand’… just at least acknowledge someone, especially when they are very sick. Did you know as a person… just doing only those little things… can bring ‘big’ comfort?

I realized I looked awful… in comparison with all my ‘family’ that day. I looked like ‘hell’. I knew I’d made a terrible mistake in coming to her funeral… I was being judged by my family members… and some of them were glad they finally had a chance to laugh, make fun of me. Why didn’t someone come to me, care?

On both sides of my ‘family’, no one cared. One brother that truly loved me, cared. My brother, Ricky… ‘Rick-Rick’. He and I, had the same mother… we never grew up together. No one knew he had a sister, and I… a brother… much less, a mother. No one grew up in the same home… together. No one could associate anyone with me to know… yes, I had ‘real family’. Just ‘not like their families’.

I remember once when I was so bad off… I barely opened my eyes at the hospital… I saw Rick-Rick with tears in his eyes standing at the foot of my bed… he was looking at me with such pain in his expression. I couldn’t speak to him… did he ever know I saw him? Did I ever tell him?

Sadly, my brother… Rick-Rick… died in 2007. He was the only family member who loved as I did… he loved me no matter what. I was the same way… no matter what. The love we felt for each other didn’t have anything with who, what we had in life… it was a true brother-sister love. That’s the only time in my life I ever experienced that… it was unconditional. I never-ever felt that with anyone else in my ‘family’… on either side.

I sat on the couch in my aunt’s beautiful home… everyone sat around. When I first got there, they looked me up, then… down. I smiled, my face already feeling numb from medicines… felt number, embarrassed. I shouldn’t have been there… I was no longer ‘good enough’. I looked too bad, too sick to have done anything about it… I did the best I could.

I pretended not to see my sisters, and their families laughing at me. They knew I’d been fighting for my life… I’d just come through battles they didn’t know exist. They never had an illness to knock them down to death’s door… When one would catch my eye… I would smile in a kind way… I saw ‘smirking’ in theirs.

It was how I ‘looked’. I’d been fighting for my life to get to the point I was at in life for so long. I was sitting there… being made fun of… laughed at. I looked at one of them… who was a stripper in a bar… ‘she’ was making fun of me… to her mother-in-law who……… I’ll never forget that. My sister was laughing at me… the one I truly loved as a child.

Strange enough that day… I saw three sisters. One was a sister who had the same mother I did… she did seem to care; she looked for me. She came to sit beside me… I will never forget that. It did mean a lot to me. She never knew the ‘other sisters’ I had… they all only ‘knew of each other’. At certain times in our lives… we’d all lived within … 4-5 miles from the other… in different homes.

I remember the expressions from my ‘family’… looking at her. Everyone thought they were ‘better’. The strange thing is… they really … weren’t better, not at all. She handled herself beautifully that day. I’m sure with her being healthy, not ill like I was… she had surely seen how ‘my family’ were doing.

More strange is… ‘they were all my family’, not her family at all. I have to write it this way… it’s a good thing I know all this… I would become confused! Just know this as you read… I don’t hate anyone, nor do I wish bad for them… I am just writing another ‘color’ in my life… a dark color.

So, no one has to judge anyone… you know, everyone is on a different plane in life… we do as we feel we must do… even, if we are making a mistake. Then… time goes by… and maybe we think about what we did… and we are sorry… only, it’s too late to go back to say that. No one knows where anyone is… and no one knows how the other will take them… and … all ‘that kind of stuff’.

Years go by… and those kind of things ‘become unimportant’… why? Because, as time goes by… lots of time… one is learning the ‘for-real’ important things in life. Those things from the past ‘no longer matter’. Sure, they aren’t forgotten… but, there comes a time when you think to yourself… ‘that’s okay, now… they did what they felt they needed to do… for whatever reason’.

When people have these kind of things happen in life… everyone tends to think ‘it’s the end of the world… relationship’. It’s really not… but, not many people ‘find their way back’ to see that. Be it pride, anger, pain… it prevents them from ‘going back to see’.

From all this, I look for my lesson learned… it’s that I’m amazed at the things that ‘almost killed me, destroyed me, hurt me’… I forgive people for. Those things that devastated me at one time or other in my life… no longer seem important.

I’ve let go a long time ago. I’m so glad… I don’t have ‘to grow old’ with ‘pure hate’ in my heart. It’s my nature to ‘hate, be angry’… it was ‘born in me’. But… somehow, I’ve escaped ‘that part of me’… I’m not like that at all… ‘even if I appear’ to be that way.

Of course, there are some people I’m never going to like… even the best person in the world… has ‘those people’. The main thing here is… to treat them with respect… be nice, get away from them as soon as possible. You don’t want them in your life, they aren’t ‘nice’ people. Don’t waste time with them… you know how they are.

Sitting there, at my aunt’s house, I fought the desire to just get up, leave. Drive back home, hide myself. I wasn’t strong enough for the world … yet. I didn’t know ‘my own family’ would become my enemy on my father’s side of the family. You wouldn’t believe… I didn’t. How sad I am when I think about all that… transpired. All I learned…

I will give them the credit they deserve for that day. They won… they succeeded in making me feel so little. I wasn’t the strong, beautiful young woman they remembered seeing. I sure didn’t appear to be ‘rich’, anymore. I know some of them were …glad.

You know… jealousy. Women are like that naturally… think about it… you might not let others know it… but, naturally if you are a woman, there’s someone you are jealous of… envy. Females… it’s a female ‘thing’.

I won’t even argue this with anyone… females are like this, no matter… how they hide it. Life is like that… and that’s the way it is. That’s right……

They had never seen me wearing such clothes as an adult. Hell, I probably didn’t know what I had on… myself. All I could think about was my grandmother had died… I loved her very much. I hadn’t long been at the door… that she entered, and I … ran away from. Death’s door… my grandmother was 100 years old.

I told you… you wouldn’t believe how bad I looked… imagine someone you love, coming back from death’s door… the only thing pretty about them is ‘that smile in their eyes’, the smile that says, ‘I’m so glad to be here, I made it, I’m glad to see you’!

Fighting spirit, I do have. I have more fighting spirit than… I have anything else. I was taught that well as a child. No one wanted me, on either side of my family. It’s made me feel the same way as an adult. I don’t really ‘want’ anyone that’s ‘family’… that’s a good way of staying in turmoil. I’m too private for that.

I only have a very few people in my life now… that I want. I learned my lesson well… strange enough, it took almost this long… to learn this particular lesson. Thank God, I have. I can’t bear the pain of loving so many people … I’ve been taught ‘over and over, and over’ how it feels to ‘lose everyone I truly loved’.

The pain, oh my God… the pure, pure pain of grieving. If you never experienced it ‘over and over’… there’s no way … you can understand. Especially when it seems in life… the only people dying are the ‘most important loved ones’ you ever had.

‘Now’… I want to be friends with everyone… but, I never want to be ‘close’ to anyone in my private life… never, never… never. If you get gone tomorrow… I’ve got to be ‘far enough back from loving you, as I can’… I can’t bear the pain… the knowledge that you… are gone.

Truthfully, even the distance I put there… doesn’t buffer the pain I feel in my heart. I love people who don’t love me back. When I say that… I can honestly say… it doesn’t matter. I don’t need their love… I just need how I feel inside… it feel right.

I hate people that I love… I don’t love people that I like. I was taught that as a little girl. It’s natural for me, but… probably not for you. You probably had the perfect childhood. I’m glad for you… you probably didn’t have to learn lessons the hard way… making your life more rewarding, easier… happier. It took me … longer to get here. :)))

The positive thing is… I turned out to be a ‘good’ person, too. Even if you don’t like me… or even if… you think ‘you’ are better. It doesn’t matter to ‘me’… life isn’t about wasting it on being liked by the wrong people. Life is about real things…

My fighting spirit makes some people like me, or not like me. Why?Because, they see a very sweet person in front of them… and you know how it is… eventually there are going to be the ones… who want to take advantage of a good person.

Their thinking is that … ‘hey , she’s too nice to be mean’. How many times have I encountered that in my life? People have even said after ‘trying to take advantage of me… pushed me too far’…. ‘but, I thought you were a nice person’!

They learned quickly… even a nice, good person …has limits. To be ‘good, nice’… doesn’t mean you have to do what ‘bad’ people want… or fall down on the ground and say… ‘walk on me’.

When I say ‘I don’t like ‘you’… I promise ‘you’ …. there’s good reason. If I don’t speak to you first, when meeting you… you can bet your ‘ass’ that you’ve done something negative to affect my life… and for the ‘time-being’… I DON’T like you. To get me to speak to you… you have to speak first. I might warm up to you… I might not. Depends…

Each person has power… no matter who we are. No matter if people appear to not care… they do. Doesn’t matter who you are… it does matter. Even the ‘lowest person on earth’ can make a person feel better… with just a nod, a wink… movement of their hand.. a tiny smile from their eyes… or mouth. Do you know the power you have as a person?



Funny Pain…

Funny Pain…
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

I went flying out the door, arms flailing all over the place. I was trying to stop myself… the harder I did… the harder I fell. Damn! (Yes, I said ‘damn’… it was a ‘damn’ situation’… not only that, it hurt like ____’). Extra pain makes me feel anger… but, this pain made me cry today. It hurt really bad.

The double doors swung abruptly open, the man came flailing out the door; his hat flew off. He was trying to catch himself… to no avail. He flew across the porch toward the post that held the roof up… struck the post, tried to hold on.

All was happening too fast, the pain was one stab after the other. He tried to grab the post to hold on… his momentum was too great. He struck the pole, his hands lost their grip… he flew down the steps, landing half-on, half-off onto the ground. Damn… that cowboy had quite a punch! He knocked this cowboy for a loop!

He stood up slowly, dazed… dirty from slapping the ground. As he rose up… the pain spread through his body. His wrist was cut in several places… the side of his foot hurt like some kind of bad.

Oh-hhh, how his knees hurt, the right one in particular. He pulled his pants leg up… his right knee was bleeding. It was scraped up… it was a wonder it didn’t tear his pants.

This cowboy was hurt… this time, when he fell… he didn’t look around to see ‘who was looking’. Because the pain was too great. He began crying… actually, I began crying.

What happened today was easier to tell when I wrote ‘about someone else’ who wasn’t me. I didn’t want to say how bad it hurt my body. I stood there… crying. It was ‘serious’ pain… I was really injured… and didn’t want to be.

I began comparing what happened to me, in my mind…. to a scene out of an old western movie. You know how the double doors burst open… and ‘all hell breaks loose’… I was that cowboy!

Today, I took a nasty fall… it wasn’t funny until… I began thinking about ‘how I must have appeared’ if someone saw me. Through tears of pain… the vision of how all happened … began to seem funny. I couldn’t smile, but, I did think I was suffering ‘funny’ pain.

Pain… Pain… Pain

Photos of Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee Back In ‘Her Beautiful Days‘…




By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee


‘I CRY FOR TOMMY’… If I never make a penny from my book, I won’t ever care.  You read right.  Why?  First, most important to me is the fact… my son will never be forgotten.


Tommy will never be forgotten… he was real, he was my beautiful son.  I loved him with my heart… he was close to Skip and I.  He was our world.  I will always write about him… everyone who dies, should be remembered.  They lived, experienced so much… felt so much… just to die?  To be forgotten?  There’s more to life than… just ‘dying’…


Because… this one book was a place I could go to …to write, leave my pain so… I could live with myself.  It was so much that I couldn’t hold it all.  I’ve never known pain like this in my entire life.


I kept putting ‘my pain’ in that book… it was 1,066 pages… I had to shorten it to 738 pages.  It was more than 1,066 pages… but, the pain not written is still inside me… it’s still there.


This one book, combined with Skip and our Pups… are ‘why’ I’m still living.  This book… my blogs… my Facebook have made all the difference in my life… and death.  I’m still here.


People … strangers who have become my friends whom I treasure with my heart… all this time… have made the difference in my world.  Just know that ‘all of you’ who have been here, and to my other blogs, Facebook mean the world to me.  (Come be my friend on … I would treasure that if you aren’t, already).


I wrote my grief; my pain.  Truthfully… I would not be here today… if I hadn’t written it.  I never talked in depth to anyone about my grief; I never went to a doctor about it.  I had to do it on my own… I’ve done this for as long as I can remember.


For the first time in my life… I am glad I lived in Hell as a child… I am glad I had to fight for survival.  Thank-you, Life… you put steel in my backbone… I’m still standing.  I am like the Redwood trees in California… I have withstood many storms.


I’m glad I was made fun of by my schoolmates; treated mean by their mothers who were jealous of my own mother… her sisters.  I’m glad you all ‘took it out on me’.  I’m glad my ‘family’ was mean to me… I’m glad.


I’m glad my family slapped, knocked me around because I dared to look like my father.  I’m glad when I lived at my father’s home… that he would step out of the doorway if we chanced to meet, glare at me, make me go through first.


I’m glad my step-sister and half-sister blamed me for things, got me in trouble.  I’m glad my stepmother made my father feel he had to mistreat me … with silence.  Have you ever lived in the same ‘home’ with ‘family’ who didn’t ever speak to you for almost two years?


It does something to you… especially when it’s your father; especially when he’s afraid it’ll cause World War III… especially, when he never made eye contact with you… if he did… he would look at you with pure hate.

I was always obedient; well-mannered, soft-spoken; respectful of each, every one of them.  No matter how they hurt me… I stayed that way.  I cried in silence… I spent a lot of time sitting in the bedroom, sitting on the side of the bed studying.


When I did my chores… I did them the best… nothing I did, made any difference.  I hoped … to be loved.  It never happened; I was resented… I was my mother’s daughter.


I’m glad my step-mother played her step-mother games to keep me in trouble with my father; how she hated my beautiful mother, and the very idea my father loved her through time…. I know this to be true because he sometimes ‘sneaked’ to see her.  He came to see me when I was in my twenties.


My step-mother kept me grounded, in trouble constantly.  She loved to tell me my father was angry at me… I never knew the difference… I was always ‘grounded’ in my mind.  My father was ‘always’ angry at me…. she ‘knew’ how to hurt me … deeper.  Her eyes would have that gleam… a bright, smiling, vicious light in them.  She ‘fixed my ass’… many times.  Each time, she ‘paid my mother back’…


I have to tell a memory here, that really isn’t a nice one.  My father and I met for lunch.  He drove almost two hours to meet me.


It’s a sad memory… I disrespected my father for the first, only time in ‘a nice way’… this memory always haunted me.  I am so sorry I did that; no matter all he did/ didn’t for me.


It was back in my ‘beautiful days’… I wore low-cut blouses, and the tightest of jeans, beautiful dresses; there wasn’t much I couldn’t wear… and look good.


I wasn’t a defiant person; I tried to always be nice… but, that day when I sat with my father for the first time…. since I lived in his house….. all began well.  I was so nice to him… ‘why, my father came to see ‘me’….. How special is that?


The last time I saw him… he’d slapped me the first, only time in my life… almost knocking me to the bathroom floor.  Then… his wife, my stepmother… began slapping me in my face… blood splattered everywhere in that spotless bathroom.


I remember the contrast… blood on white… I grew up seeing so much blood… in Hell.  I never expected to see it… nor my own blood… at my own father’s home.


Anyway… we sat there.  I could tell my father thought he had a beautiful daughter.  I even sensed pride… everyone was watching us.


For one time… my father smiled at me freely.  I think he liked me… for a few minutes he might have been glad I was his oldest daughter… that one time in his life, my life.


I was twenty-eight years old… we had that one ‘close moment’ for … a few moments.  Then… it was gone; it never happened again in our life.


I felt proud… I knew I was so pretty… how could my father not be proud? When I walked into any place of business, any store, and room… people stopped talking, began to stare.  I always acted as nice… as I looked.


He noticed that… in the restaurant we were in… people knew who I was… but, they didn’t know who ‘he’ was.  We sat there, talking light talk when he asked me if I would button my top button on my blouse…  I remember looking at him… giving him a polite little smile… looked into his eyes, said ‘no’.


We went on with our conversation.  Truthfully, I wanted to button my top button… after all, I was with my father.  But… I couldn’t do it because ‘he asked me to’.  For one time in my life… I could stand up to him, and say ‘no’.  It was a battle I ‘won’…. but, it never felt good to win it.  It always haunted me through the years.  I feel bad about it… this very moment.


No matter how he was to me through the years… I didn’t feel good about that.  I saw disappointment in his eyes, but… he went on with the conversation, never mentioning it again.


Love, hate… love, hate… I loved my father; I hated my father… now, I don’t … feel anything. I don’t hold anything against him… nor the stepmother I had.  No feelings… at all.  The End…


Pain from ‘best friends’ who were jealous of my ‘looks’; one in particular who tried to turn my mother against me.  She told me.  We’d all meet in a restaurant often… I’d be late sometimes.


I would cause a stir when I came in… always quietly, proudly… with my head high.  I always was a lady… back in those days… a ‘beautiful lady’… women hated me just as they did my mother in ‘her beautiful days’… men loved me, just as they did her… only… I never went with them.

Men would smile at me.  The strange thing about me as a ‘beautiful person/woman’ was… I had respect for all wives… I would smile at them first.  I never flirted with their husbands.  I should have… they never gave me that respect through time.  I had respect for girlfriends, also.


Sometimes… their husbands would ask me out… those women never knew how much I cared… I wouldn’t go with a married man.  One time a married man fooled me… I’ll never forget when his wife and I talked… her eyes.


She understood that I honestly didn’t know; would never do that to another woman.  Through the years, that has haunted me… though she forgave.  I’m sorry I didn’t know.  I caused pain, never meaning to… never wanting to.


Why, you ask?  Because… it happened to me as a too-young, inexperienced girl who ran away to get married.  I ‘knew how it felt’ to be cheated on.  I lived with it for years.  I’m glad now… that was more pain I suffered for years.  Combined with all the bad things that happened through time in my life… it strengthened me.  God knows I needed it, and more… when my only child died.


If Skip, our Pups hadn’t been in my life… I don’t mind anyone knowing this… I would have died from an overdose of that powerful, potent medicine the doctor gave me.  I… almost did.


Skip intervened…  I had went too far in my grief, pain… to know anything.  I was past thinking; I was past living; I was in the darkest of worlds.  I didn’t know my way out… I didn’t have any desire left to live.  I forgot about life.  I didn’t know… or was even aware of ‘me’… anymore.  I was… gone.


Only at times, could I ever hear Skip’s voice… or feel a Pup’s tongue lick my hand, my face.  It was just like… when I almost died when I became deathly ill with non-Hodgkins lymphoma.


A person goes past a point… they don’t ‘know life is there’ anymore… they aren’t aware they are … just before dying.  I’ve been there several times in my life… I ‘know’.


I can only describe it in the words I just typed.  I still can’t tell you… it’s more than my words.  I can say this truthfully… this is when a person such as me who dearly loves life… can die, not be afraid of death.


You don’t know death is reaching out to take you … in some small way, you ‘are there’… but, I wonder ‘how’?  You can still smell, sometimes hear, ‘know’ what’s going on around you… sometimes.


I’m glad my father slapped me that one time … slapped how much he hated me through the years… nearly knocking me down… thank-you, half-sister.  I’m glad for so many bad things that happened to me when I tried so hard to grow up; learning everything the hard way.  I forgave everything… many years ago.  I don’t hate my ‘enemies’… now.


No one was there to tell me a lot… if, when someone did, I’d appreciate it so much.  I made many, many, many mistakes.  It’s a wonder I don’t sit in a prison somewhere… from the horrible anger, hate I harbored the first part of my life; from the types of people as a young woman, I came in contact with.


I could have went on to be a ‘Bonnie and Clyde’ sort of girl.  I hated women… it’s a wonder I didn’t …  I like women now; sort of… I have very few women ‘friends’…  I grew up with all women figures who taught me anger, hate… inflicted pain on me.  Being the best kind of enemy in the disguise of ‘best friend’.


Keep hurting a puppy that’s backed up in a corner… one day it’ll reach its breaking point… I never took any ____ off a woman.  And… if it ever appeared that I did…….. give it time, watch.  I try to be nice, give benefit of the doubt, go that ‘extra’ mile… three times is my limit in most anything.  Then…


Yesterday made three years since Tommy died.  I could say ‘passed away’… but, it doesn’t work with me.  I have to ‘face things head-on’… in order to cope, deal with them.  Tommy died… three years ago on May 29, 2010 on a late Saturday evening.  Tommy… died.  Now… face it, Gloria… your son died.  It still hurts… so bad.


I won’t let things be ‘sugar-coated’… I want all the pain to hurt me until… it can’t hurt anymore.  That’s what… I want.  The more I meet it head-on; knocks me to the ground…  I keep getting up… the stronger I become.  The less power it has over me to give me … more pain.


Truthfully, I couldn’t do that with Tommy’s death… it was many, many months before I could meet it head-on.  I fell to the ground when he died… I had to have help in getting back up, coming back to Life… to live.  I could not have… done it by myself …’that time’.


My child’s death was more than I could bear.  I couldn’t cope with it.  I hid for the first time in my life in a fog of medication that even now… I don’t know the name of.   I don’t take drugs, drink alcohol, smoke… but, I took that medicine.  It doesn’t matter what the name of it was now… it protected me.


Only… when it came time to ‘face all head-on’… I had to start all over… the pain; oh my God… the pain.  There needs to be another word for that ‘kind of pain’… the very word ‘pain’ doesn’t do it justice.


When Skip and our Pups wouldn’t let me be… they kept on, and on… trying to get me to ‘come back’… I began trying to ‘come back’.  I’d been in darkness so long… the light was almost unbearable.


The pain… oh, my God.  How can I describe such pain to you?  I can’t… you have to know it, feel this kind of pain to ever know what it is like.  You have to have your own child die…. die, to feel and know the journey I’ve been on.


I pray with my heart you never experience your … child’s death.  Parents are supposed to outlive their children.  I can only tell you to sit for a few minutes, look at your precious child (especially if it is the only child you have)… sit there, make yourself feel how it feels ‘to even think of losing him/her’.

Can you see what I mean?  You can’t do it.  Why?  Because you begin panicking inside, feel scared; you have to quit thinking like that because… you become afraid ‘something could happen to him/her’… if you think about it very long.


Pain… pain… pain, and more pain.  I’ve known many kinds of pain through ‘my time’.  There are things no one can ever know that caused me pain… there are many things I’ll write about.


This is ‘why’ I don’t like to cause pain in someone else’s life… ‘when you know how bad pain hurts… you don’t want to inflict it on others’.  You don’t even want to wish it on others… because it will come back to bite you in the ass… I know.  :)))


I have family who have experienced so much grief, pain in their lives… in the same way, in different ways.  I can only say this from my heart… I will never be a family member to cause pain, grief… even if you don’t like me… or, I don’t like you.  Respect…just ‘pure’ caring; a good heart.


I know how it feels… not only that… I’m old enough now, to know it does ‘for-real’ come back to one.  One has to be careful what they wish for… sometimes, it backfires.  I know that, too.


Pain… PAIN…  no, I can’t even think of anything to describe pain anymore; I only know one way to even touch how big, bad it is… that’s just to write the word larger….  PAIN.  PAIN.  PAIN…




P.S.  The photos above are from ‘my beautiful days’… my family had very beautiful women… I grew up to be, also… back then.  Today, when I see ‘family’… I see that most of the girls, women… are just as beautiful. What amazes me is… how we all loved to ‘pose’, be ‘sexy, beautiful’ all through the years… generation after generation… I’ve seen it in my photos, their photos… our mothers’ photos.  I think it was taught to us… we felt it inside… we each, was ‘most beautiful’….


Now… it’s all I can do to look at least… nice.  :)))  Now… I just continuously ‘chase myself in the mirrors’ (you have to read back in my blog to understand if you are new)… just to ‘get a glimpse of me’… I try to ‘photograph me’… when I find ‘me’… capture myself in a photograph.  It’s rare now… when I do.  I’ve been through so much in life, combined with trying hard to grow older gracefully… I’m lucky ‘I see this much of me’… I’m not complaining.  I’m thankful.


Life isn’t all about being sexy, most beautiful… though, when we are younger… it seems it is.  I’m at the age now, that I know … appreciate my Life’s lessons.  I know what it’s about now.  I look back at my younger days… I am proud that I was pretty; I’m proud of my photos.  I’m glad I was one of the ‘beautiful women’ at one time… I used to want to be as beautiful as my mother was, when I was little.  I never knew I could be.  I was made to feel worthless as a little child…  These photos….  all survived a fire in an old suitcase…. amazing.  I’m thankful I had them to ‘show you’… as I wrote my story.


In my ‘Gloria Opinion’… the secret to life is simply caring, loving… being good as possible.  I could have been just as bad, as I try to be just as good.  Good is best… it’s peace of mind.  Loving, not hating… feels best.  When younger… I hated with a white-hot fire burning in me from the time I could remember… the anger I carried in my heart was deep… then.


Thankfully… through time, I don’t harbor those feelings… but, I meet some people now…. if they mistreat someone I love… I can ‘feel the old hate, anger’ try to come back. I told you… I’m not perfect.  That’s why I’m writing my scary books with my main character… Victoria Fairchild.  She does things sometimes, we wish we had heroes to do for us… that’s to teach some people a lesson they won’t forget… an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth…


Update on book two:  The Saga Of Victoria Fairchild  (Book one is an introductory to Victoria Fairchild…. When She’s Good… She’s Good)…………..  Victoria has entered her homeless world once more to find the serial killer.  Her cousin, Lind Lou, has left for business elsewhere.  Caroline, Stevie are living the life of luxury now, after almost dying from the serial killer’s attack on both of them.


Victoria’s friends, Buckaroo and Kenneth, are helping her.  They stay in the background watching her… as she meanders through the homeless world she loves, wants to protect.  She means to find the serial killer, knows now… only one can walk out.