Barbie Perkins-Cooper, Author

Tag: fear

  • Remembering 9-11-2001


    Remembering 9-11-2001, — I recall awakening a bit later than normal for me on 9-11-01, due to a headache. It was a beautiful day in Charleston. Bright sunshine, clear skies. The phone rang. I checked caller ID noticing it was my husband. “Now what is it he wants so early this morning?” Those of you who know us recognize that my husband would be surgically attached to me — IF he could! Answering the phone as my head pounded, his first words were, “Are you watching TV?”

    “No. I have a headache.”

    “I know how you love to stay in touch with current events. You might turn the news on. A jet has crashed into the World Trade Center.”

    My mind raced with dreadful thoughts. ‘How could this happen? How could a plane drift off course and crash into the World Trade Center?

    Turning the television on, I listened as the broadcasters speculated what was happening. The news was happening so quickly, speculations were changing every moment, every breath. No social media on that date. No Facebook. Twitter…just speculations as the broadcasters raced with bated breaths to report “the latest…” Cell phones around the locations of the World Trade Center were jammed. Communication was almost crippled.

    My mind drifted to those inside the World Trade Center. The receptionists, administrative assistants, food service workers, and others — trapped inside. What must it be like to glance outside the windows to watch an airplane approaching so closely one could almost see the color of the pilots eyes? What must it be like to see the plane crashing into the windows while recognizing you have no way to escape? Those questions would never be answered.

    Reports continued…smoke billowing out of the buildings. People rushing out of the building. Another report stated that the people inside of the World Trade Center were told to stay inside. “No way.” I said. “I would get out of that building.”

    My heart was heavy. Somehow I knew that something tragic was happening, and it was not an accident. A planned attack, to use American jets to crash into a building and kill Americans.

    Nothing was reported about that, at the moment. Speculations. Guesses…Reports unconfirmed…

    My mind drifted back to a nightmare I had a few nights prior to ‘9-11.’ In my dream there were four men dressed in black, moving across America, carrying weapons – shooting people on the beach, on the highways, and in populated areas. Never did I mention this horrific nightmare to anyone. I simply told myself I dreamed about the beach simply because I love the beach, and I love driving. I suppose I was psychoanalyzing my dreams. Weird! I have had visions such as this all of my life, just like my precious grandmother did.

    Now, I was glued to the television. Afraid to move away for fear I might miss something. I saw the plumes of smoke coming from the buildings, and I watched in horror as another plane crashed into the second World Trade Center.

    Shaking my head, I recognized this was not an accident, but a planned attack on America. In the blink of an eye, I recognized the United States of America was now at war. So frightening. So unexpected. Just how can this happen to US?

    News reports continued as the broadcasters interviewed people on the streets, family members, and a few of the people trapped inside the buildings. Rescue teams and first responders, fire fighters, and medical triages were ready to assist those who needed medical care and assistance to escape, but as the news continued, Americans watched in horror as people who could not escape found a tragic way out — jumping out of the buildings. Tiny images of bodies flying out of the building, falling…falling…falling into a horrific moment of death. Although I wanted to turn the television off, I could not. This was a day I would never forget. I kept praying that rescuers would free more of the people, but the reports were skimpy. “These people need to get out,” I prayed. “They aren’t safe…What if…may God forgive me…but what if the building crumbles to the ground?”

    I watched in horror as a horrific sound roared on the television and the building seemed to move, tumbling to the ground as smoke, debris, and the building fell to the ground.

    “How can this happen? And why — why are buildings built so tall that people cannot escape safely? Who would do this? What kind of monster would crash a jet into a building?”

    So many questions raced in my mind.

    Twelve years later, much has happened to our nation. We are at war with Iraq and Afghanistan. Many lives have been lost and America will never feel the safety we once felt. The safety we took for granted. For a brief time, Americans pulled together to help one another, never thinking or suspecting that if we reach out to others, we might be helping, in some small, caring way. Now, we have more violence in our cities. We see people talking and texting on phones, never acknowledging others, appearing to be clueless to what is happening nearby. We are so wrapped up in our own lives that we take life for granted once again.

    My wish for America is peace. Fellowship. Friendship. Trust and love for one another. We must remember 9-11, while recognizing that our lives have continued after such tragedy. I confess, it was difficult for me to awaken every morning for a while, without asking why. What would make someone such a monster that he would become so destructive, and that he and his followers would plan such an attack? Why?

    While it is true that Osama bin Laden has been killed, his death does not end the threat of terrorism. Terrorism is everywhere. Not just in other countries. Terrorism is everywhere. In our cities. Our towns. And just because one terrorist was killed, this does not end terrorism.

    Today is not a day to end this discussion with the subject of terrorism. Today, 9-11-2013, is a day of remembrance…a day to pray and give thanks for all that we, as Americans, have endured on 9-11-2001. May we move forward to embrace that we have life and freedom. Freedom comes with a cost. Sometimes a price that cannot be bought or expressed. Today is a day to embrace one another and to remember that many lives were lost, in the blink of an eye. None of us saw this coming. Today is a day to appreciate life and the loss of those we loved and lost, gone too soon.

    May we never forget — 9-11-01. Please take a moment today from your busy life to remember those we lost. The price we have paid. The threats we have experienced. On the morning of 9-11-01, our world changed dramatically. Let us never forget it, the victims, families, and freedoms so threatened. Let us pray that we never experience such a tragedy again.

    Today, my heart still breaks for those lost so unexpectedly, in the blink of an eye. Let us NEVER FORGET while we pray for our Nation, our soldiers in harms’ way, and for the freedoms we so cherish.

    Remembering 9-11.

  • Domestic Abuse — Just WHEN Will It End???


    Dearest Readers:

    This will probably be the shortest blog I have written in a while. I am busy with life today…cleaning the house, getting dressed to go to the doctor for my last Supartz injection and caring for a husband with a neck ache. I’ve always said my husband is a pain in the neck, and now I suppose that is true!

    Today, I simply must express a bit about domestic abuse. I know lots about the subject matter since I served as the referee between my mother and dad when they fought, sometimes attempting to kill each other from their raging, violent tempers and toxic voices. Back when I was a child, domestic abuse was not an issue or a crime. People simply swept it under the rugs, while whispering “He Beats Her…” Yes, and she “beats him!” Never could I call the police, or 911. Crimes of ‘passion’ from parental hatred and jealousy simply did not exist. Thank goodness our Nation finally recognized that domestic abuse DOES EXIST, and it is definitely A CRIME!

    Yesterday, I got a phone call from a close, respectable friend, sharing with me that one of our co-workers at Johnson & Wales University was killed by her boyfriend. http://www.postandcourier.com/article/20130824/PC16/130829578/1009/boyfriend-charged-with-killing-woman-in-west-ashley&source=RSS

    I am so outraged I could scream. Reportedly, he is in jail now. How I hope and pray he will remain there for the rest of his life, but as we know, these maniacs manage to get out of jail. Reportedly, he beat her badly, leaving internal injuries and strangulation. Obviously, David Reagan meant to kill her. They found an empty purse by her body. He reportedly used her credit cards after the crime, to purchase beer. Just what an abusive maniac needs, isn’t it!

    I don’t have many details at the moment, but I am so sad to hear and read about how Kathy Hawkins died. She was 52 years of age, with a nine-year-old daughter. Like all who succumb to domestic abuse, she did not deserve to die in such a violent manner.

    As I’ve stated, I know a lot about domestic abuse. Not from my husband, or any prior boyfriends before marriage. I observed domestic abuse as a child, standing between my mother and father, telling them it was time to stop the fighting and be nice to each other. When I was five years old, I saw my dad knock my mother to the ground for the first time, leaving her head bleeding from the force of his temper and rage. I made a promise to myself that I would never allow anyone to beat me, and that is what domestic abuse is — a beating — and now, a crime.

    Please, let us do all that we can to STOP DOMESTIC ABUSE. And let us remember, it is not just a crime for women. There are many women in the world who abuse their loved ones, regardless of who they might be. Domestic abuse is wrong. It should end…NOW! No one deserves to die from the violence of someone we once loved and trusted. NO ONE!

    Stop the abuse now – the abuse related to children, spouses, elderly, family members, animals…just abuse in general. I will have more blogs about domestic abuse later..after all, I observed it as a child. Never did I speak about it to others. I was too afraid I would be physically abused because I spoke up. Years later, I do speak up about it. My husband and I rescued one of my sisters from a domestic abuse situation many years ago, moving her closer to get away from a maniac, now ex husband. I will continue to vocalize my beliefs about domestic abuse. I will stand on my soapbox to do all that I can to stop abuse. I’ve seen friends abused and when I do, I react – jumping right into the fire, daring the abuser to hit me. So far, no one has taken my dare. I suppose they know — they will end up in jail. I will not be quiet. I will not walk away, and I will make certain I do not look the other way, like so many people choose to do.

    Kathy Hawkins was the victim I am speaking about today. She is now deceased, from the hands of a boyfriend. Kathy was a lovely, friendly woman who deserved to see her nine-year-old daughter grow into adulthood. She deserved so much more. Rest in peace, Kathy Hawkins. How I hope David Reagan remains in jail, but I doubt it! Someone will probably bail him out.

    More later! Trust me, this issue is not something I will keep to myself. Domestic abuse MUST END! It is a crime. Too many victims are murdered and murder is a crime!

  • My Weight Watchers Saga…


    I remember the day I made a significant decision to change my life. Thursday, March 3, 2011. The morning began like most. Fresh coffee brewing…letting the dogs outside…checking e-mail…piddling around the house…I’m certain you probably get the picture…waking up sometimes is quite a chore! I turned the TV on, watching the Today Show. Listening to it, but not really caring what the broadcast had to say.

    Since the New Year of 2011, I told myself I needed to lose more weight. Diagnosed with Type 2 Diabetes in early 2005, I reminded myself that even though I was losing, it still wasn’t enough. Jennifer Hudson sang on the TV. I listened…I simply love her voice. This time, I truly listened when she spoke about Weight Watchers and how she had lost 80 pounds.

    “Wow,” I thought. “Maybe I should join Weight Watchers again. My mind drifted back to the first time I joined Weight Watchers…how humiliated I felt when the curtain was drawn so I could be weighed. I was mortified. I did not want to go back to Weight Watchers again, to feel the humiliation of “Oh goodness…did you see how much SHE weighs?”

    I decided it was time for change…time to rejoin Weight Watchers, only this time, I would do it online.

    “No,” a voice inside spoke. “You don’t do well alone with losing weight. But…I can’t feel that humiliation again…I just can’t.” A tear slipped down my face.

    Time to research. I visited the website, Weightwatchers.com, reading all that I could about Weight Watchers and their new Points Plus program. One description echoed in my ears. “Confidential weigh-ins…” But how could that be? The last time I joined Weight Watchers, I remember them closing a beige colored curtain. The scale was on the floor, but still, people could peek through the curtains to discover ‘your little secret…how much you weigh.’

    The more I read, the more I decided…If Jennifer Hudson could do this, so could I. After all, she was a world-famous celebrity. Quickly, I dressed, put my makeup on and made the attempt to look as good as I could. The meeting was in Mt. Pleasant at 10:00 am.

    ENTERING WEIGHT WATCHERS

    At 9:15, I parked the car as far from the entrance as I could, closer to Wal-Mart than the sign of Weight Watchers. My heart was pounding. My eyes watered. I touched my trembling hands. “You can do this,” I whispered. “Remember…confidential weigh-ins…”

    Opening the door, I prayed that I would not recognize anyone. My head was low, no eye contact. Normally when I walk into a room I make an entrance. This time, I simply wanted to blend into the woodwork. A wallflower, again. Quickly I filled out the forms. Trembling, I stood in the line in anticipation of the dreadful weight check. I watched as many women got on the scales. No curtain. No privacy. My mind drifted back to the date I joined Weight Watchers, over 20 years ago. Perhaps longer. Just how could this be ‘confidential weigh-ins?’ I listened, never hearing any numbers or weight gains shared. I glanced as a woman stepped on to the small-scale. This scale reminded me of the one I had at home, in the bathroom. Digital, supposedly accurate, I waited while wondering if the weight would blink next to my feet, and if someone else would read how much I weighed.

    Stepping on the scales, I looked down. The receptionist standing behind a receptionist area smiled at me, welcoming me to Weight Watchers. I looked down, looking to read the blinking light of the scale, only there wasn’t anything blinking. “Did I break the scale?” I asked. No lights. No digital readout. Nothing.

    “No,” she smiled. “I’m the only one who can read it back here. No one else knows… It’s OK. It is confidential! Things have changed and Weight Watchers wants you to feel welcome here.”

    She handed me a small booklet. Recorded inside was my weight. No one else knew, or could read it. “Confidential weigh-ins.” I read the number. “Thank You, God,” I whispered. My secret was safe…only the receptionist and I knew the number, and she appeared sympathetic…understanding. I felt as if I could trust her!

    I inhaled. Exhaled. I sat down — in the back row. I did not want to connect eye sight with anyone. I did not want anyone to recognize me.

    I inhaled and exhaled again. My fingers continued to shake. My heart palpitated. Never did anyone inquire as to what I weighed. No one asked me if I was new. I began to realize that everyone in this crowded room was a “Weight Watcher.”

    “It’s OK,” I said to myself. “Everyone here has walked in the same shoes…You’ve made the right decision.”

    Moments later, a friendly, attractive woman with beautiful red hair and a pleasant and warm personality walked towards the front of the room. She stopped by me for a moment. “What’s your first name?” She asked.

    I wanted to crawl through the woodwork. “Barbie,” I whispered. She wrote my name on a name tag, handing it to me. I placed it on my shirt, still looking at my feet.

    She smiled and walked to the front of the room.

    Shouting so all could hear, she said. “Welcome to Weight Watchers. My name is Kathy. I’m your leader!”

    Two years later, I still fight with losing weight. I have learned to apply positive feedback. Instead of thinking “But I’ve only lost 35 pounds…in two years…” I tell myself, “Hey dummmy…just think of where the scales would tip IF you hadn’t joined Weight Watchers and made a great lifestyle change. Think of the clothes you could not wear…because they were too little…all of those gorgeous cocktail dresses that you had to give away…simply because they were too big! No doubt my Goodwill store appreciates me. Weight Watchers has taught me not to save those ‘big clothes…’ and I donate them to charity, instead.

    I hate to even think where those scales would be now, but they would steadily be creeping up, instead of down. Now, on Thursdays, I sit with a great group of women…all who have walked in my shoes…all who have lost only “.02 of a pound weekly…for many weeks…” We encourage each other by reminding ourselves that we are still losing…even when we only lose .02! I’ve called us the “Two tenths club!”

    Some of the nicest words I have heard in a long, long time are “Welcome to Weight Watchers,” and Kathy’s affectionate, happy words of ‘HE-LLLL-O,” at every meeting.

    Yes, I have joined Weight Watchers…and my journey has been two years long, but during that time I have achieved many accomplishments…not simply weight loss, weight gain…and back and forth… I am able to walk on the Arthur Ravenel, Jr. Bridge in Charleston — with an extremely painful arthritic knee that doesn’t ache as much after losing 35 pounds! AND — I have accomplished walking on the treadmill for 30-40 minutes daily! Not bad for someone with asthma!

    Like the slogan says, “Weight Watchers…because it works!”

    I am a believer now. Every Thursday I have a group of encouraging friends at the meetings. No longer do I hold my head down. I smile. Head held high and I share my stories…Weight Watchers…because it WORKS!!!

    Goodbye, Wallflower!

  • Mammogram 101


    I suppose this is an article for women only; after all, I don’t think men would appreciate the subject matter. Here goes. Have you ever had a mammogram?

    During the month of October, I scheduled my yearly mammogram. Since I do monthly breast exams, I wasn’t afraid. Nothing was different so I was confident that I would receive a letter telling me to return in a year. When the letter arrived, I was concerned. I needed an additional mammogram and/or ultrasound. I scheduled it immediately. Before the appointment, I got a call from the hospital informing me that I needed to bring $265.99 to pay for the additional test.

    “What…I have Blue Cross Blue Shield. They pay for my mammogram.” Surprise — only 80% this time!

    I almost cancelled the appointment. After contemplating the additional test, I phoned the Breast Cancer Center again, asking why I needed this appointment. “We can’t discuss that,” the voice on the other line said.

    I was furious.

    The more I thought of it, the more I realized I needed my Julia Sugarbaker diplomatic style to kick in. “Hello,” I said. “I have an appointment for an additional mammogram and was told no one could discuss it with me. Don’t I have the right to KNOW Why?”

    “Of Course, you do,” the kind voice responded.

    She transferred me to the radiology doctor where I discovered why. It seems that my yearly mammogram noticed a change…something in the glandular structure. I heard the word “asymmeticral,” or something similar.

    “Have you lost or gained weight in the past year?”

    “Yes…about 35 pounds. I’m doing Weight Watchers.”

    “That could be the reason. It’s nothing to get alarmed about.”

    Alarmed? Could we be talking a lump, or breast cancer?

    The appointment was scheduled for the next Monday. I had exactly seven days to stress, worry while my imagination went crazy with fear.

    I’ve always been told I have a nice chest.  For me, this compliment convinced me years ago that a woman’s chest is one of her most feminine assets. Perhaps some people can’t imagine stating that, but when it is one of the major compliments received, especially from my husband all types of fear entered my mind.

    My maternal grandmother developed breast cancer — back in the days when cobalt was the treatment used after a brutal surgery. I had to change her dressings for her when she came home. Her chest was brutalized — like a raw piece of red beef. I was a teenager at the time and I’ve never forgotten how dreadful my grandmother looked. Never did I squint or show her my fears while I cleansed and dressed her wounds. Never did I forget how she looked. My grandmother was a grand lady, an inspirational, loving role model for me, showing me what a lady should always be, how a lady should act and dress. She influenced my life significantly!

    What if that happened to me? How would my husband love me anymore IF I lost a breast?

    I suppose every breast cancer survivor has felt that fear. I’ve known many women who have battled and won, but I’ve never discussed their fears, or dressed their wounds. I have been told that the incision is much better now, and there is plastic surgery that can be completed.  Before I went for the additional mammogram I researched breast cancer, reconstructive surgery and on and on. I do not recommend others to research. You must ask breast cancer survivors — those who have endured breast cancer. As a writer, I have the tools nearby to find the research. Sometimes a little knowledge can make one frightened out of their minds. Still, I could not pick up the phone to ask a friend. So many women do not want to talk about the experience, and I can certainly understand.

    I told myself not to worry. Easier said than done, I assure you. Then, I took my maternal grandmother’s wise advice — I went to my window lifted my eyes up towards the Heavens and I prayed, having a lengthy talk with God. My grandmother’s advice of finding a special window to have God lift a burden has always worked for me. This time, I felt the burden lift. Thank you, Gramma!

    An additional mammogram. I’ve had several but I knew this one would be different. Just imagine a portion of your body placed into a paddle where the radiologist pushes, pulls, probes, squeezes, tightens….oops, not the right position so it is time to push, pull, probe, squeeze and tighten again — while attempting to get the muscles, tissues and dense breast materials to tighten, flatten — perhaps like a pancake.

    My breast could never become a pancake!

    If you are a man, just imagine a tender part of your body pulled into the paddle while having the radiologist tighten…and tighten…and tighten…until there is a pancake size and when the position is intact, she says, “Now don’t move.” Meanwhile your special area feels so tight, uncomfortable, and a bit painful while you attempt to escape into a part of your memory reserved for relaxation.

    What? You’ve never heard of a mammogram? A mammogram is an x-ray. Allow me to discuss it further:

    According to the American Cancer Society, “Getting a mammogram is one of the best things a woman can do to protect her health. This simple test can find breast cancers early, when they’re small and have not spread. This is when breast cancer is easier to treat and the chances of survival are higher. http://www.cancer.org/healthy/findcancerearly/cancerscreeningguidelines/american-cancer-society-guidelines-for-the-early-detection-of-cancer

    If you’re 40 or older, you should get a mammogram every year. Don’t wait. Call your doctor to schedule one today.”

    The American Cancer Society strongly recommends that women over 40 have a yearly mammogram. October is Breast Cancer Awareness month, so when you see women, and those who are close to women, wearing the pink ribbons, or pink clothing, remember to schedule your mammogram.

    Remember to do monthly self breast exams every month.  For  thoroughly detailed images of how to do a self breast exam, visit the website: http://women.webmd.com/healthtool-self-breast-exam

    Every women should have a yearly physical and have a breast examination by a doctor. While examining your breast, pay close attention to the nipples and if you see any changes, be sure to see your doctor.

    In the event you should see a change, a lump or swelling, irritation or dimpling, any pain at the nipple, redness, or a discharge, please see your doctor.

    After making the appointment, checking with BCBS, I approached my husband about my letter.  I’ve got to have an additional mammogram/ultrasound. It seems I have a glandular change in my left breast.

    He looked up from the computer. Wow! This time, I had his complete attention.

    What if…what if I have breast cancer and I lose my breast? I could not live like that.

    Phil rushed to hold me. Suddenly the weight of the world lifted as he held me. Those arms of strength and love have gotten me through some rough times in my life.

    “Did you speak with the doctor?”

    Yes. Let’s just say my Julia Sugarbaker kicked in.

    “You’ll be fine,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

    Easy for him to say. What if He was the one who would have a part of his anatomy placed into paddles that desire to flatten the tissues like they are pancakes.

    Finally the day arrived. I did my best not to worry; after all, I had a talk with God. I arrived early. The appointment was at 3:40pm. I didn’t leave until after 5pm. This time, the radiologist explained what she was doing. She even allowed me to look over my shoulder. Silly me. I was still attached to the paddle so when I turned to look to the right — well, let’s just say — it wasn’t comfortable!

    “When will I know the results?”

    “I’ll show these to the doctor before you leave. You might still need an ultrasound, but we’ll wait until the doctor says we do.”

    Thanks.

    Moments seemed like hours as I went back to the dressing room — dressed in a thin bed jacket style of fabric. I couldn’t get dressed until the radiologist said I could. So, the wait began. I know it was only a few minutes, but it seemed like hours. I kept glancing down at my manicured nails. I have a tendency to pull the nail polish off when I am so stressful. I played with my nails and waited. A knock was at the door. I opened it.

    The radiologist introduced me to the doctor. “We’ll see you in a year,” she said.

    I can go home? I don’t need the ultrasound?

    I sighed with delight. Such sweet words to hear.

    “It’s just a glandular change. Nothing to be alarmed about.”

    How I wanted to hug her but I knew if I lifted my arms, I would be exposed to the world. Instead, I shook her hand.

    “Happy Thanksgiving,” she said.

    Yes, it will be a great Happy Thanksgiving now.

    I suddenly felt guilty while driving home, thinking of the women who have experienced the same tests, only to hear the dreadful six-letter-word that starts with a C.

    Somehow. Someway. Someday. Cancer must find a cure. Just when — and at what cost will that day arrive? Every day I pray for a cure while remembering my precious grandmother. Her courage. Her strength. Her love for her granddaughters. How I miss her!