4 Days of Labour, 3+ Months Premature and 2 Miracle Babies!…in 1974

The Story of my Miraculous Birth

{ My mother holding my twin brother. ( He was allowed to be held eventually ). Note the size of her hand compared to the size of my twin • Ottawa Civic hospital • Oct 1974 }

“Mr.Flood? I’m going to have to ask you to leave the room now please,” said the doctor to my father after my brother had been born. I was still hanging out in my ‘womb. My chance of survival was low.  Living would take a miracle…

Would you like a little brother or a sister?” my mother asked my 6 year old brother. “Both” he said with confidence. I imagine the universe at that moment coming and saying, “And both you shall have!” I also imagine the 32 year old part of my mother saying,  “I don’t know if I could handle two more…then again, kill two birds with one stone…have ’em both a once and the other part of her saying to my brother, “You got it Pontiac!”

And so she did. They did. My father and mother. Eventually after one of the ultrasounds they were told they were having twins! I have no idea what my 34 year old father was thinking at the time! And this was all natural. They did not know however know the sex of their twins or if they would be identical or fraternal.

Fast forward to October 1974. My mother was only near the end her second trimester. She was only six months pregnant. Three more to go. My father and her designed a beautiful home that was to be finished in time for our birth…in January. She was now standing in our big beautiful white kitchen on the red and burnt orange checkered linoleum floor hanging out with my older brother. And what happened next would turn into a very long 4 days. “Mommy! Why did you pee on the floor?” Obviously my mother had not peed on the floor. Her water broke. Three months early. It wasn’t time. It really wasn’t time. There were twins in there. It really really wasn’t time. As the story has been described to me over the years my mother did say she was panicked. She knew it was way to early. She was also at the house in the country alone with my brother. I’m not sure if they had a second vehicle then, but even if they had, would she had been able to drive herself to the hospital? I know she was also worried for her little 7 year old son in front of her. Trying to contain her panic. She called my father at his office and I don’t know how that conversation went, but I was told that my father drove like a bat out of hell to make the ~ 20 minute drive to get to her. And then again once she was in the van to bring her to the hospital. I’m sure my father wished he still had his 67 Stingray that day to burn his way to the hospital.

I don’t know very many details of the hours that turned into days that followed of course even though I was there! I only know the things my mother always shared with me. I know that she was in labour for 4 days. I know that there was much confusion because of this situation. I know that there were many, many nurses and doctors there trying to save the twins trying to be born 3 months to early. I know that there were even more doctors and nurses because Ottawa’s best hospital, the Ottawa Civic is also a teaching hospital and there were many residents wanting to watch and participate. On the fourth day at 9:00pm,  my twin brother was born.

This is what I know of what followed. My father was there for my brother’s birth. Once my twin was born, the doctors placed him  in a mechanical ventilator to help his breathing.  I learned once that the lungs do not fully mature until the 3rd trimester. My twin, for now, was safe. I on the other hand, was not coming out. No way, no how. Not moving. I was tucked up way high and not coming out. The doctors had a very difficult time reaching me. There was quite a lot pf panic in the room, numerous doctors and specialists trying to figure out what to do with me. I think they contemplated leaving me in at one point…you know to bake for another 3 months kind of thing. This was a passing thought. Not possible! Then, the doctors turned to my father and said, “Mr.Flood, we’re going to have to ask you to leave the room now.” My mother used to say at this point she was just pleading, “Save my babies, save my babies!” to the doctors. I believe my younger brother was outside of the room for some of this time. Could not have been very reassuring for  a seven year old. When my mother would recount this story to me I asked her why they asked my father  to leave the room. She told me, “Katie, the doctors, we, had no idea if  you were going to make it or not. They would not want your father to see if you came out alive or dead.

To be continued…

{ If I get any more details or clarifications from my father I will add accordingly.}

Listening to: Bruce Springsteen
Locale: Ottawa by the canal.
• State of mind: Happy to be out of a crux.


The Limp, A Hemorrhagic Cyst and Moving West

The Limp. The limp that brought me into the hospital that saturday morning. I spent the day having various tests done – blood work – x-rays – ultrasounds. All coming back negative. Until. Until. The pelvic ultrasound. Oh what a joy that is ladies? By this time I was in pain and hurdle over moaning and groaning. Then the doctors want you to fill your bladder with water so they can the ultrasound imaging properly. I feel like I’m going to explode and you want me to drink 2 litres of water and hold it?…while you stick a plastic wrapped plastic probe up my hoo haw? Hilarious. But we do it right ladies? The result?

“Katherine , you have what’s called a hemorrhagic cyst on your left ovary and it’s ruptured. That’s why you are in so much discomfort.”
The docs gave me pain killers and said I just had to wait it off. That it would settle down on it’s own and there wasn’t much they could do on their end as it is quite normal and the ovary is not twisting or causing other harm.

I was in the hospital a couple of days and sent home with bed rest. “Are you in a particularly stressful situation in your life right now?” he asked.
“School. It’s a pretty tough program. 30+ hours of class, weekly assignments, 0 tolerance for absenteeism etc.”

“Well I don’t want you going back there for 2 weeks. Stay at home and take it easy please.”

I stayed home a week. I called my school director the day I went into the hospital. Funny timing was that the our directors just switched over the break. So I had never met this new director. Car Accident, hospitalization or death of a loved one were the only acceptable excuses for absenteeism. Clearly I fell under hospitalization.

I just stayed the week and returned the following. Too much missed school and I was feeling better.

The new director handed back my mid report card. It had a big fat 0 on it. I called him. ‘Excuse me Mr., could you explain why I have a zero?”

You didn’t hand in your assignments for a whole week.

“Mr. I was in the hospital. I called you on day 1 and informed you of this.”

“Oh well. You still didn’t hand them in.”

“I couldn’t Mr. Excuse me, but it is in our program that this is an acceptable reason.”

“Oh. Well, ok sorry. I’ll fix that.”

“Yes, thank you.”

That was 1999. I seemed fine until year end. I had wanted to do my coop placement in New York City, having always wanted to live there. I had collected a massive book and photocopied every single design, communications and branding agency in New York city from the small mom and pop shops to the big organizations. I can’t really remember why – maybe the tight urn around deadline – but I ended up doing  placement at a local supposed reputable firm. While I was at work one day I suddenly out of nowhere had the most excruciating pain. Livid pain.I’m sure working where I worked didn’t help. My boss was a yeller. He yelled at me, the kind of yelling where a person yells so much they’re spitting on you – yah that was him. One time he even raised his arm at me to swat me – I shied away and he brought his hand back behind his back. Geez! His office was a pigsty. I’d always had a knack for cleaning, sorting, organizing and decorating – got that from my mom. I reorganized the office completely – did a layout of the floor plan and everything. When he wasn’t given me assignments – shy of my skill level – I found other productive things to do (so I thought). Organizing his book shelf, clients lists, files on the computer. One day he lost it on me and said why was I wasting my time doing nothing – why wasn’t I looking through magazine for inspiration? Pardon?

It was only 2 months of work. They had hired me on after the placement and received a government subsidy for hiring a student straight from school. I could tell business was slow from the drop in incoming calls and jobs going out. I got called into the office one day with his main designer who was also a graduate of the program the year prior. Really nice guy too. The two of them were staring at me and not saying anything. I say there smiling. My boss tried to speak, but couldn’t. He looked over his my colleague, “Archie, can you…you?”

“What?” I said. “What. You have to get rid of me?”

My boss went wide eyed. My colleague smiled relieved. “Ugh, how, how on earth did you know that?”

“Doesn’t take much to see there’s not a lot of work coming in here.”

I did my two weeks and you know what that boss did? When I went to file my taxes, they had no T4, no record of any employment there so I couldn’t file. You go to be kidding me. I had to go and file forms with the government giving them permission to look for this business. They had changed their name once or twice but then disappeared. I was able to track down a fax of proving that he paid me as he would request the subsidy from the government every two weeks. And that rascal, he paid me with personal cheques, but had hand written the deductions on each one, but never submitted them. Nice. Even cheaper labour.

That was on Monday. On friday my 2nd love, dumped me on the phone. 1 week after celebrating our 1 year anniversary and I had bought him an expensive dress watch. Nice. Thanks.

I’m leaving! I’m moving out west…

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Go west, Go west…. { the Petshop Boys }

Locale:  Starbucks. Why have some Starbuck’s taken those away?
On Deck: Slave to Love by Roxy (I have a wide assortment of music let me tell yah!)
State of Being: It’s starting to feel like Christmas.

Ice Storm: A Limp, A Gimp and a Tree – Timber!

I looked at his blue skivvies and probably blushed seeing his parents standing there in my peripheral vision. (No, no Mrs.Lloyd I’m thinking to myself, what are those, I’ve never seen those before). My eyes moved so slow up his legs, somehow some part of me did not want to look at his arm. My eyes continued upward and it was impossible not to see his arm. It was completely split open.


“Yes, Ms.Renem?”

“Are you ok?”

“Yes, why?”

“Your limping. Why are you limping?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t realize that I was.”

“Maybe you  should go get that checked out honey afer school.”

“Yes. Well it’s no bothering me that much right now, but I will if it gets worse.”

Every day that week, the limping got worse, but I did not seem to be in pain anywhere.”

I went to the doctor and he examined me ans told me my abdomen was swollen, and this could be my appendix. He advised me to drink liquids, go easy on the food and possibly be prepared for a trip to an ER next week.”

“I said alright doc” and went home.

Friday passed and I was staying over at my boyfriend Lloyd’s at the time.

Saturday morning I woke up ran to the washroom, was sick as a dog for seemingly no reason rapidly. I was throwing up, sweating buckets, felt hot, weak and dizzy. I knew something was more serious was wrong because the symptoms all came on rather out of the blue and I wasn’t “feeling” very sick, but had these symptoms.

“Take me to the hospital Lloyd. Something’s wrong.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Something’s not right. This isn’t a flu or stomach. I don’t really feel sick anywhere, but my body is doing this and I’ve got a fever so it’s trying to tell me something.” My mother taught me that. Fever is there for a reason.

Lloyd took me to the hospital. By this time, I was limping and stooped right over clenching my belly.

Lloyd and I had our share of hospital trips. A story to digress to because it’s a hell of a one. In the winter of 1998 Ottawa got hit with the biggest ice storm. If you lived there you remember it. Haunting and gorgeous to see mother nature reek havoc on a city. I was fortunate, we lost cable for a few days and that was it. I was working at the high end sport retailer and most places of businesses did not make it mandatory to come into work on account of the damage to the city streets etc. There were electric wires down in front of my apartment all over the street, but you could carefully navigate them if you had to. I went to work. My boyfriend Lloyd also worked fulltime at the retailer. There was actually about 6 couples who all met at this place and were all dating. Quite seriously I might add, they all are married to this day, Lloyd and I the only ones who didn’t marry. I had exploring and traveling I wanted to do.
On this particular day, Lloyd was working at a neighbouring farm cutting down trees with a friend. Around 2in the afternoon I was paged to answer a call.

“Kate, Line 1, Kate phone call on Line 1”

I went to the phone thinking it was a fellow peer at another location wanting soft goods help. You know, do you have this in size 10 kinda thing.

“Kate? It’s Mrs.Lloyd calling.”

I felt nauseous immediately without even being old anything. It’s funny – our bodies know when something is up. The background sound of the store around me petered out in the distance. I stared down a my feet.

“Yes. Hi Mrs.Lloyd.”

“Kate, Shawn’s been in an accident.”

I swallowed. The heat rose up through my chest.

“He’s ok. I mean, he’s alive. They’re going to be doing emergency surgery. I thought you should know. We’re at..”

“What happened? I mean, was he in a car? Why surgery?”

“No,no. He was hit by a tree. Badly. He was out cutting down trees in the back 40 and the Swinson’s lot with their son Jack. And he, he, God I told him, his father told, him, he knows. I don’t know what happened exactly or how it happened.”

“Oh my God, Mrs.Lloyd. I’m so sorry. I’m sure he’ll be ok. Everything will be ok.”

“Kate, he has some prescriptions to pick up. Can I ask you to pick them up and bring to the hospital?” Of course, of course. I’m leaving right away.”

“They just air lifted him from the Kemptville hospital after they saw the extent of what happened; they’re not equipped for this kind of surgery.”

I told my manager I was leaving, I had to go, that Lloyd had been in an accident. It was serious. I still remember this particularly manager wining to me that I couldn’t leave. I had already gone up to the owners upstairs and had their ok.

“I’m outa here!”

She actually ran out the door after me and told me I couldn’t leave. Hilarious.

When I got to the hospital. I was so worried and scared for Lloyd. The ER doctors took me the room he was in and I’ll never forget this, I swung around the corner and first I see poor Lloyd in his blue skivies. They size and height of the tree coming down on Lloyd actually split his clothes and then the doctors tore them off to get to him. Hell, I found out then they believed it probably hit him in his head because of the proximity to the arm.

When they were out there cutting the trees down there are rules they follow. You are supposed to yell out to where you’re partner is so they know where you are and where the tree is going down. Jack yelled out,

“3-2-1 TIMBER”

(They actually do yell Timber? I thought that was a lumberjack cartoon thing of the past)

No response. The tree came down. After that tree came down, Jack couldn’t hear the sound of the other chainsaw running. He looked to where the tree went down. No Lloyd. And he wasn’t there when it went down, so where was he. He looked back. No Lloyd. Something wasn’t right. They’re in the back 40 with acres of snow filled fields and trees. Shawn should stick out like a sore thumb. He decided to go back to his last cut. He saw Lloyd’s snowmobile, but no Shawn which meant he had to have been here…somewhere.

I can’t remember what he saw first, but there was Lloyd under the tree. Out cold. He was unconscious. The tree grazed his head and smashed his arm. From what I know, I think Jack was able to get Lloyd out from the tree on his own or the adrenaline from the shock can kick in like when a mother can lift a car off of a baby, and he put Lloyd on one of the snowmobiles and brought him back to the farm. I don’t think cellphones were as a staple as they are today yet, so he would have had to wait until he could get to a phone to call 911.

By the time I got to him he had regained conciousness. I looked at his blue skivvies and probably blushed seeing his parents standing there in my peripheral vision. (No, no Mrs.Lloyd I’m thinking to myself, what are those, I’ve never seen those before). My eyes moved so slow up his legs, somehow some part of me did not want to look at his arm. My eyes continued upward and it was impossible not to see his arm. It was completely split open. It was awful. Looked like a complex roadmap of red lines and white highways – think downtown Montreal. My eyes could not stay there. I turned slowly to Lloyd’s facing being careful to keep a straight face and slight smile. It’s really hard to hide, “Holy Shit Your fucking arm is split right open honey!”. I think I did a good job. Either that or he was unfazed because he seemed pretty happy.

“They’ve got him pretty souped upon morphine.” Said Mrs.Lloyd.

“Ahh,” I said.

“I Lloydy. Oh honey. How are you doing?”

“Ummm…..” he just smiled glassy eyed.

I smiled back at him and gave him I care about you grin.

I gotta say, it was pretty surreal having a conversation with his parents over him and this split open arm in your face and nothing going on.

“They’re bringing him for surgery soon. They had to get in another specialist.” Said Mrs.Lloyd.

Just then a doctor came in and explained the procedure to us. He spoke a little and then he motioned us to leave the room with him, I guess so Lloyd could not hear. Not that he’d remember.

“Shawn’s arm is pretty serious, but we have excellent doctors here. The surgery should be done around midnight.”

Shawn went in for this surgery. I stayed with Mr and Mrs.Lloyd. Midnight came, no doctors. 12:30am. 1:00am. God, I’m sure I’m not the only one out there who’s had this experience of watching the clock while waiting for a loved one to come out from surgery. Amazing how minutes seem like hours. 130am. 200am. Finally just after 2am the doctors came out to us.  He didn’t look very happy for someone just having come from surgery. In fact he looked really sad.

“The surgery went mostly well.”

“Mostly doc?”

“We were able to save Shawn’s arm. We put the bones back in place for them to heal.”


“Well. There it was quite a mess in there. I’m sorry, but the most important part was putting the bones back. There’s been nerve damage. It was unavoidable. I’m sorry.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, it’s too soon to tell, but some of Shawn’s muscle will not be working properly because of this. For now, his fingers. He has no use of his fingers at all.”

“Oh my God. But doc he’s a rock climber, a carpenter, a ski tech, he works on farm. He’s a bike rider.”

“We know. Which actually fares well for his recovery. We don’t know how long it will take. We’ve implemented an apparatus on this cast that will help rejuvenate this fingers. Nerves repair themselves. This is the good time. We just don’t know how long it will take. It could take a year. Shawn is not awake yet. He doesn’t know this yet. Leave that to us ok?”

“Sure doc, yes of course.” (Like anyone would want to break that news to him).

Shawn returned home eventually. He had a massive full cast and this odd looking contraption made of metal spokes that jutted out from his elbow on an angle and then had these elastic bands that dropped down at 90 degrees over his hand attaching themselves to each of Shawn’s fingers. Geez. Let me tell you, fun between the sheets! Not so much. I moved temporarily into Shawn’s place to help him out. It was hard to even make a meal with only the use of one hand. Sleeping beside him was a mild nightmare trying to avoid the side his contraption was on and any odd random mid night swinging arm landings! The sports shop kept him on working the floor instead of the shop. He couldn’t bike or climb, so it was quite a bummer for an incredibly active 25 year old. He did it though. Month and months went by and there was still no movement from his fingers. Quite scary really.

A year almost to the date, Lloyd’s fingers started work again. He biked again and he climbed again. I don’t know if he’s every cut a tree again…

I full story within a digression. It was a good one though no?

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I’m getting to the limp next,

p.s. Hellos to you Llyod where ever you are. Grapevine says you moved West, but no one has heard from you since.

Locale: Cushy Leather chair @ Starbucks. Why have some Starbuck’s taken those away?
On Deck: Happy Cycling by Boards of Canada
{I’m beginning to think my shuffle ituned is somehow magically linked to my stories!}
State of Being: Hungry.

Rock Climbing, Rheumatoid Arthritis and a Blind Medical System

And as I was standing there in my workout gear and sporty windbreaker jacket in my fit body and him knowing my daily physical activity, he looked at me and said, “…Have you thought about taking up swimming?”

I reluctantly decided to defer my acceptance into the program I had wanted my whole life for another year. Stating medical health reasons. How could I draw? How could I design with pain rattling my 24 year old hands? Just a year. I could beat this pain in a year. I took on a full time position at the store and waiting the year.

I became very active socially with my colleagues. All working at a high end sports retailer, we walked the talk.  Some more then others. I continued my workout return daily and ran to my job every morning and some evenings. I got up early and took care of my grandmother every morning before work for 2 hours. Waking her up, changing her, bathing her, changing her bed linens and keeping her company – making her earl grey tea, hot toast with butter (i has to be hot) and watching Dallas. ‘Trying to keep her min busy in her pint size old age room. It wasn’t fun – it wasn’t too bad either – but, I felt sad for her.

I rock climbed with my new boyfriend, mountain biked at the back of the pack in the Gatineaus and learned to ski and snowboard weekly. I was a size 2. And yet, every single day, I had chronic pain piercing through my body. It never left. It only got worse. I began to see specialists. The pain was so bad a this point, that frustration turned into anger and anger into rage. I began to pitch in an effort to get the pain out. Worse thing I ever pitched was a glass lamp. It broke. I had already gone through being sad and depressed because of this chronic pain, leaving my university degree a year early and losing my closest friend.

I waited 3 months to see a rheumatoid arthritis specialist. I showed up with my father, curious for an answer so I could just  fix it. My mind is such that, I need to know what’s going on, when I know the facts, I will find a solution and fix it. I met with the doctor for minutes, only minutes.

He performed a few tests and looked at me and said, “You don’t have rheumatoid arthritis. At 24 it is rare I have to say anyways.” I was saddened. I wanted an answer. Someone to tell me an answer so I could fix it. I looked at hm bewildered. “ Well, I guess that’s good doc. But, please you know my history. What is going on? Why am I in chronic pain every day all day through most of my body?”

And as I was standing there in my workout gear and sport windbreaker jacket in my fit body and him knowing my daily active activity, he looked at me and said, “Have you thought about taking up swimming?”

Holy shit! I wanted to jump over the desk and plow him one. Your kidding me right. I looked down at my outfit. Do you see what I am wearing? Do I look like an unfit person? “I exercise every day doc.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t have any answers for you.”

I left – frustrated. Unsure of my future, confused and bloody scared.

I continued to work. I continued to exercised. And the pain continued.

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Listening to: “Comfortably Numb” by Pink Floyd
Locale: Starbucks @ Chapters/Indigo  – yes – still here.
State of mind: Glassy eyed tired.

© 2012 by Kate Flood. All rights reserved

Teasing and Toying the Good News to Me – Torture!

He was disinterested, disassociated and seemed to be disintegrating in front of my very eyes. “Could I see the labs?” He got up and showed me to a cramped room of itty bitty mac  beige computers (remember those?).

I stood there and looked at him behind his desk and his hoarder war of a library that towered over him in some stereotypical Woody Allen flick. He was disinterested, disassociated and seemed to be disintegrating in front of my very eyes. “Could I see the labs?” He got up and showed me to a cramped room of itty bitty mac  beige computers (remember those?). There only seemed to be 25. “You share them with the second years he said. They get priority. There’s not enough to go around. I kinda made up my mind at that point and asked a few meaningless questions, said thanks and left. Well at least I investigated. At least I knew this wasn’t what I wanted. I returned home.

I waited for my Sheridan and Algonquin letters of acceptance or refusal to come. I took a job at a local high end family run sports retailer called Tommy & Lefebvre. I waited for my letters.  I got an apartment with two friends who were a couple from a camp I worked at in my teens. We happened to run into each other and reconnected after 10 years. So did they as boyfriend and girlfriend. Life is funny. The world is small. Every day of the weeks I thought I would hear from the college. I called home to my roommate at 415 to see if the mail had arrived with a letter from Algonquin. Everyday no letter. One day, I call and I ask my roommate, “Ernie, the mail. Did you get the mail today?”

“No not yet,” he said.

“You didn’t? You’re in the house. You didn’t pick it up on the way in?”

“Oh wait. Maybe I did.”

‘Ernie. Come on….did you or didn’t you?”


“Of you did, you did, you toying with me. Is there a letter from the Gonq?”


“There is! I can hear from your voice. Stop kidd’n me. Ernie! Open it! Open it!”

“Just a sec. Let me see” He’s shuffling through the mail and I can hear the envelope shifting through his hands. Meanwhile I’m in the telephone at work during my shift standing at a pillar. “Ernie! Come on!”

“Oh, look yes there is one here from Algonquin. Algonquin college right?

“Yes Ernie! You know that. Come on, you’re killing me! Open it!”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Open it.”

“Nahh. It says it’s addressed to Katherine Flood.”

“Ernie, that’s me! Open it!”

“Ahh. That’s illegal. Opening someone else’s mail.”

“Ernie Semaj. You open that mail now or else….you have my permission!”

Silence. And I don’t hear a letter being torn.

“Ernie! Did I get in? did I get in?…Ernie! OPEN itttt! You’re killing me!”

At this point, the staff has collected around me, knowing that I have been wanting and anticipating this moment since I was in grade six, over and above my years spent at university, this is what I always wanted!

“I gotta go o the bathroom.”

“Ernie! No you don’t. You’re just playing with me. Please tell me….what I didn’t get it?”

Ernie goes to the bathroom. I hear the toilet flush. I am tearing at the post in front of me. I give my fellow staff look of waiting, a look of I’m dieing here of desperation. My roommate is killing me and I’m going to kill him when I get home! (lol. Kidding). He comes back to the phone.

‘Ernie Semaj if you don’t tell me…”

“Dear Katherine, Thank you for your interest in the graphic design program at Algonquin college. We pride our selves in the education of…

‘Errrrnnnieee! Get to the point! Yah or Nah! Tell me. Now!”

“Ughhh….let me see….I got to read here to see….ah! Here we go…

Every inch of my being clenched in excitement and anticipation to leap into the air! I wanted this my whole life. 876 people applied worldwide for this year. Only 50 are accepted.

“You’re application has been accepted!”

“Woo Hoo! Yes!” I screamed. I jumped for joy. I dropped the phone right there and then and it hit the wood banister it was mounted on. I danced on the spot. I did the Tom Cruise Katie Holmes Oprah couch dance on the couch dance.  I grabbed my peer and danced and jumped up and down for 5 minutes straight! Elation people. Elation. Great feeling. Have you felt it?

I was so happy. Nothing could shake my happy.  I had 2 weeks to respond. I worked my full time job for two weeks. Every day I was excited, but every day I woke in pain. The shooting pains in my hands worsened…

When was a time in your life that you were uncontrollably excited? Did you do the Cuba Downing Jr. dance? The Tom Cruise dance?

Doing the Happy Dance!

Listening to: Your love is King” – Sade
Locale: Starbucks @ Chapters/Indigo  – still here.
State of mind: Getting tired.

© 2012 by Kate Flood. All rights reserved