Hello good people! Before sharing about me, there are no words to express how grateful I am that you’ve taken the time to experience my artwork. For more years than I’d like to remember, as a designer, freelance photographer and creative director, I’ve used my God given talents, training and experiences to bring into fruition the vision of design clients, art directors, agents and the like. I would become obsessed with delivering the perfectly interpreted concept. My partners and assistants were convinced that I suffered from an obsessive-compulsive disorder. If this project had not been created in absolute solitude, my behavior would have resulted in, at the very least, intensive therapy. However, I am positive that my obsession with perfection was anointed by divine intervention to be the exact distraction from the unbearable pain of a serious illness. The pain was so severe instead of my usual prayer of gratitude for a life filled with love, creativity and beauty…I prayed for my life on earth to end.
Help came from a most unlikely source. Long after having to give up photography due to severe back/leg pain that led to mobility issues. Besides, digital everything was obviously the future. I had my old school photography images archived in digital form and stored on my iPad for safe keeping. Forced into an early retirement, I passed time by studying creative writing, digital photography (in case I made a miraculous recovery), computer skills and working with my physical therapist! And though I worked very hard, it was to no avail. For quite some time, being handicapped was my psychological nightmare. I did not know how to function in this state of being. Because my condition was military service connected, I was offered a service dog. I said no, thank you! But my caregiver insisted and he was right. Randy and I were best friends for 15 years. He is watching over me from a better place now…and sent my second service dog, Happy Jack, to be my physical companion.
This work is dedicated to my higher power, my caregiver Michael and Randy (Best Friend and Service Dog ever)! There are so many reasons for me to be grateful for a merciful higher power. But at this stage of my life and career, after a full recovery from the most excruciating and debilitating health crisis I’ve ever experienced, to be graciously given another chance to right a wrong that has haunted you is divinely miraculous! As I attempted to accept the inevitable…I am handicapped! Suddenly Michael is calling for an ambulance to rush me to a hospital because I am ravaged with pain and screaming uncontrollably! This is when I raised my finger and asked God to be excused from this life! The intense suffering was from a devastating infection in the lumbar of my back. My doctor told me that road to any degree of recovery will be very difficult and lengthy. She used the analogy of preparing for a long, unpleasant road trip. And suggested possible scenario, “An acquaintance from college has asked you to join him on a trip to his hometown that you’ve never heard of. The college must close suddenly, during the worst winter weather months, for repairs after an unexpected natural disaster. All you know about this guy is that you are polar opposites. He’s a young curious Caucasian man who has shared that he’s never had an African American friend and there are no African Americans that live in his small town. And you, of course, are African American!” Anyone facing a however remote, similar situation must arm themselves with two imperative strengths to save their sanity: a vivid imagination and a powerful distraction in the form of an ideal escape. An escape that affords you the opportunity to make right a wrong that has haunted you. Or re-write the outcome of a situation that you handled poorly and still live with regret! What works best is making lemonade out of lemons or imagining your failures as triumphant super successes!
I shook my head affirmatively without a clue as to what she was talking about. I figured that if I appeared to understand and was willing to attempt whatever mental technique this was, she would continue to instruct my around-the-clock nurses to administer a miracle pain killer directly into my IV (intravenous) line. Every four hours my nurse would ask if I felt any pain. My answer was always affirmative! And not because I felt some sort of euphoric cosmic experience but rather because it kept that intolerable pain at bay.
Michael (my caregiver and best friend) has been a Godsend for 18 years. When Michael came to visit me in intensive care, he wanted answers that I couldn’t provide. He, of course, has the necessary documentation to speak directly with all my healthcare professionals. And never has been shy about asking as many questions as necessary to understand my health challenges and the best treatments available to address them. Because Michael had never seen me in pain so severely that I could only scream, I could tell that he was as worried as I was about the quality of life in my immediate future and beyond. He has never sugar coated what he absolutely knew would be the best approach to achieve our desired results.
The intensive care ward in the VA Medical Center are angels disguised as nurses. To suddenly need someone to unconditionally care for you as your loving parents had as an infant. Performing the most intimate tasks discreetly with the utmost respect is a gift for which I will never feel that I’ve given an adequate response in return. This is why I am very grateful for your patience in allowing me to indulge in yet one more attempt to publicly express my gratitude for their stellar professionalism and dedication. And while in their care, every attempt to express my heartfelt gratitude was met with a very touching, “Thank you for your service!” Which makes our service even more gratifying.
Already handicapped due to a service-connected injury, this newly found infection in the lumbar area of my back tried its best to permanently finalize my condition. Discharged from intensive care, I could not stand up and certainly could not walk (not even with the help of my walker). My doctor transferred me to a long-term VA medical facility and rehabilitation center. An implanted port (or port-a-cath) is a small surgically placed device under the skin in my upper chest. The device provides long-term reliable access to a large vein for blood draws, IV fluids, or medications. My doctor prescribed a very strong anti-biotic administered twice daily to (hopefully) eradicate the infection in my back and a milder, less addictive (and less effective) pain killer to address the constant pain. And I was assigned a physical therapist. My stay was to be approximately 90 days.
However, Michael (after conferring with my VA healthcare team and my immediate family) had developed an alternative plan. Because Michael knew that the device in my chest was connected to a catheter leading to a large vein near my heart! And, that this very strong anti-biotic needed to be administered twice daily at the exact same times… he was extremely uncomfortably about only receiving verbal assurances that the proper procedures were performed correctly, on time, and under sterile conditions by qualitied nurses wearing masks! He proposed an alternative solution that would give him and my family more peace of mind. Michael had been training on how to administer the anti-biotic for days. He had also developed a friendly business relationship with the pharmaceutical supplier of the anti-biotic used in my treatment and several connections with other pharmaceutical suppliers that could possibly help in the case of an emergency. Armed with the above-mentioned, my Veteran Administration disability rating of 100% and my family’s prayers he argued that I should be discharged to his care and an in-home staff of doctor supervised nurses and physical therapists. Plus, this plan had the endorsement of the most essential part of Michael’s plan: Randy, my service dog, who has been holding down his post, by the front door (where, several weeks ago, two men had come and taken me away screaming, as he tried to rescue me!) Michael held him until the Paramedics had gone. His walker said that, on every walk, he would constantly search for me. And on his return, he would search every room to see if I had come back home. Then he would take his post by the front door…best service dog and best friend ever!
I had absolutely no knowledge of Michael’s proposal. I was still in such bad shape, Michael and my family didn’t want me to get excited about the prospect of going home and become depressed if Michael’s plan was denied. After drilling Michael on his knowledge about administering the anti-biotic and physically testing him on his technique, my doctor was so impressed, she personally amended my discharge instructions and the very next day put into motion necessary procedures for me to be discharged into the care of Michael, who had 24 hour access to a physician familiar with my condition and a full in-home medical staff. Everything had to be in place before being formally discharged and the extremely emotional farewell to the angels who had saved my life and helped me to want to live again. There were no words adequate enough. Which was fitting for the actual goodbye because all I could do was cry, as a mouthed thank you and shook hands, with my other hand on my heart. They are truly angels on earth!
Not surprisingly, Michael had the presence of mind to ask Randy’s walker to keep him at his house until I had been comfortably situated in bed. This was the longest Randy and I had been apart. We had no idea how he would react when he realizes that I’m back home. If his behavior after I returned from just checking the mail is any indication, we’re going to need an exorcist to calm down his demonic like doggie joy! His walker said that he appeared to have sensed that I had returned. The closer to his door, the harder he would pull and more anxious he became. Upon entering the house, at a brisk pace he went directly to my bedroom door where our eyes met. I smiled and braced myself as Michael moved closer, expecting me to be besieged with emotions of pure love! But no, he slowly looked at the army of new faces surrounding me and carefully walked up the dog stairs I had gotten him for Christmas. In slow-motion with deliberate steps, he moved next to my mid-thigh and leaned over to his side until his little head rested on my thigh as he just stared. I couldn’t understand why his behavior was suddenly so peculiar. A member of my in-home healthcare team whispered, “He knows you’re hurt and trying his best not to hurt you any further.” That caused a few dams to break…
Suffice it to say, this new chapter was challenging! And, yet here we are seven years later… beginning another challenge! My precious Randy lives in my heart now. He made his transition one year ago. He wisely waited another year to pass before sending me Happy Jack, his successor (as he could never be replaced).
It was Michael (who is also a high-level computer game player) that understood my doctor’s theory involving distraction and escapism. Michael would become so distracted by his game we had to install a flashing light that I controlled by remote to get his attention. I have never been interested in computer games. So what could be so fascinating that it would possibly distract me from intense pain, severe nausea and migraine headaches?
It was in the ICU that Michael saw a particular series of images featuring men chosen for the first clubLENU project, “HUNKFEST”! He was blown away by how beautiful the men were and my camera loved them. Which has always been my impression about the artwork. The men in clubLENU were exquisite and as kind as they were good looking. They followed my instructions perfectly. And the nudity was only suggestive. We were very careful not to show any penises especially. I designed the project as a provocative art exhibition to appeal to mainstream women. I advertised in mainstream publications and sent press releases to top talent agencies, top modeling agencies, top casting and production companies. I also attempted to show more diversify by using more African American and Hispanic models in prominent positions in my advertisements. I can describe in detail the totally unexpected personal nightmare that followed. But let us just say…whatever could possibly go wrong…DID! What confused me most was total, absolute alienation by the mainstream and a total, absolute embrace by the gay community! My dilemma was that to my knowledge none of the men featured in the project were gay. Some may very well have been. But over the year it took to photograph this project there was never a conversation about any gay subjects. Some brought their wives, fiancés, girlfriends to view the results of our private photo sessions. And never did we have a conversation about their semi-nude image in layouts or on the cover of gay publications. And then publicity photos that accompanied press releases were used as cover photos by gay publications. There were angry calls from models that I considered to be friends, their wives, girlfriends, friends, parents, siblings and cousins! Financial backers wanted their money back immediately. And then came the death threats and property damage. She was so afraid, my secretary quit and flew home to her parents! And from this point? Oh, it gets far worse! But we are going stop here and focus on the incredible images created by these beautiful men.
With all that was done to me and all that I lost (some would argue, even my mind): my biggest regret is that the artwork produced by our collaboration was never seen in proper format or judged on the merit it deserved. We had worked so hard and the good, beautiful men involved deserved better. I handled the death of our child poorly and it has haunted me throughout my life! “THIS IS MY AMENDS AND A CELEBRATION OF OUR WORK!”
