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Story #1,000* Dear Kendra (A Letter To Kendra From Jenna Aurora Whitson) by Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado
Wednesday, April 21, 2004
Rated "PG" by the Author.
My *1,000th* short story here at the Den! I couldn't have done it without the support and love from all of you here! Thank you so much for your encouragment and comments! :D
Jenna writes yet another letter to her new friend in California. Jenna got some bad news, and right now she is very depressed.
Wednesday, April 21, 2004~
Dear Kendra:
This is Jenna Aurora Whitson again. I just got home from therapy, and there was a letter from you on my email, so I decided to write you.
Thanks for telling me a little about Anna. I bet you guys can't WAIT for her to join your happy "little" family! (She says with a note of sarcasm...LOL) I really needed to hear from you today; I had a rough one in therapy, and today, I found out from my orthopedic doctor that the damage to my arm and leg appears to be permanent, and I am really depressed about that. Here I was hoping that I would be able to use my arm or walk without the help of a brace or walking aids; but it doesn't appear that this is going to be likely; so I am really blue right now. I am trying to be strong for my guests, and for Michael, but I am afraid that I am not doing a very good job at holding back the tears! It seems all I have done upon my return home is CRY!
Ronee' wrote to you; you should be getting a letter from her. She was upset to hear about my news, and she wanted to let you know that she and her family are having a great time here (and we are having a great time too, but Bill got sick and was in the hospital for two days, and then I find out about my arm and leg being damaged, and now suddenly my world seems a lot bleaker and greyer). Michael is sitting beside me, as I write, rubbing my back, and he looks sad, too. I wish I had better news about my arm or my leg, but now it looks like I will have to quit my job at the bank and look for something that I can do without much in the way of effort or if worse comes to worse, go on disability. I was hoping that I wouldn't have to hear this because as you know I am deaf, and I don't like using sign language because it makes me "look disabled", and I am a very proud (and stubborn) woman (I read lips or write on paper; this is how I communicate, or I WILL sign IF I am in the mood; usually I don't!). Now it looks like I will have to use a brace on my leg, a walker (or crutches for short trips), or a wheelchair if we go on a longer trip; and I am really embarrassed and upset about it. I am afraid that people will stare or I will see their mouths wagging; and I know they will be talking about me, and that is something I can't even BEGIN to bear!
Ever since meeting the kids in Louie and Bill's family, I have enjoyed them and their company, and I kind of hope that, when Michael and I get married later this year, we can have kids ourselves; but now I don't know if I could ever be a good mother to them because of my handicaps. I feel so ashamed; I feel as though I let Michael (and also Louie and Bill and their kids) down because I need so much help with personal tasks and daily living skills, and I feel like I am a burden to them--and a burden to society, in general. This is why I feel so angry when people tell me to pray because it seems that when I do, something always comes up..and it is usually something BAD or UNPLEASANT. I wonder if my daddy or my relatives are angry at me for something I may have done or angry at me because I am not like I was, and I am afraid that when I die, they will leave me on a floe of ice and let me die. This is how the Inuit do their handicapped or older people; they feel they aren't of any use to them any longer, so they leave them out on the ice to be eaten by polar bears (we Inuit call them "nanuq", pronounced like "NANOOK")
or some other carnivore. I don't know if they do this now, but in olden times they did, and it worries me because I don't want to be eaten up by a nanuq! That may be a mite painful, if you know what I mean! But it may be better to let me go this way instead of having to live with the bad news I got today, and right now I am having a very hard time dealing with it!
I am sitting here at the computer, crying my eyes out. It takes me so long to peck away at the typewriter using one hand, and now, whenever I look at my hand and my braced up leg, I start to cry harder; and it is all I can do to keep from trying to make mistakes while I type this. I feel so bad a lot of the time (the medicines are really playing havoc with my appetite), and I am wasting away to nothing. I look (and feel) like hell, and right now I wouldn't care if I lived OR died. I hate myself, and I hate what has become of me. I was wrong to go see Michael last year; maybe I shouldn't have gone. If I hadn't gone to Louisiana (but never made it; instead I got hurt, and I just got out after spending five months in the hospital!), maybe I wouldn't be in the fix I am in! WHY would a good God let this happen to me? What did I ever do to Him to warrent this kind of punishment on me? Why are the spirits so mad at me?? I have tried to be a good person; I haven't done anything wrong by anyone, and I am having difficulty trying to accept what has happened to me and the fact that I will always be a helpless cripple with no use to anyone!
I am sorry for dumping my troubles on you, Kendra, knowing you aren't well yourself and are raising soon to be twelve young daughters, but I have no friends other than Michael or Louie and her family, and right now I am so miserable I wouldn't be surprised if I thought of killing myself somewhere down the line!
Karen what a great accomplishment! Congratulations! Bravo!
May you continue to wow us with your wonderful writes.
This is another beauty, though very sad, well done!
first of all, story writer, congratulations on #1,000--that is a serious accomplishment, and you should be very proud of yourself! (i am of you *grins*)
second, this ripped my heart out--i hope good things come to jenna, i've grown to love this lady like she was flesh and blood
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