Well, November has been a time. Seriously, it’s been a complicated cluster cluck; pardon my language. I want to start by addressing the elephant in the room, specifically the Republican Party and its now-president-elect, Donald Trump.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed in the election results, but hey, as the saying goes, the people have spoken. A slim majority of Americans wanted change, so they elected a previous president.
All kidding aside, I want to reassure people that the Daily Planet will remain unbiased in its reporting despite my own personal political stance. Hell, we don’t publish an endorsement because we feel it’s an individual’s right to come to their own conclusions about a candidate aspiring towards public office. We’re here to share factual information so that people are briefed and ready to make a decision.
That being said, the election results are not what this editorial is about. Well, they are sort of a part of it because I just spent paragraphs talking about it, but the actual topic of my letter to you has to do with my absence.
You see, I wanted to be straightforward with the people who read The Planet. I wanted you to know that I was disappointed in the election so I could be honest and tell you that’s not why I took a sudden sabbatical and ceased all Daily Planet operations starting Nov. 5, 2024. The real reason I departed for exactly three weeks was due to my health.
Last year, I was diagnosed with a weird bone disease called Fibrous Dysplasia. It’s just another body anomaly to add to my ever-growing list of ailments, but I digress.
For those wondering, according to the National Institution of Health, Fibrous Dysplasia happens when abnormal fibrous (scar-like) tissue replaces healthy bone. The fibrous tissue weakens the bone over time, which can lead to fractures (breaks) and misshapen bones. Some people with fibrous dysplasia have no symptoms or only a few symptoms, usually in one bone (monostotic). My instance was monostoic.
In order to prevent breakage, I needed to have a metal brace and plate implanted into my right proximal femur in an effort to increase the longevity of my quality of life, which is hilarious because immediately after the procedure, my quality of life temporarily hit the crapper and so did my emotions.
I went under as people were casting their votes at ballot centers across the country. I wanted to report on the stories of the day for The Planet, but, well, I was unconscious.
I reemerged from my drug-induced slumber in agonizing pain with a brand new gash in my upper thigh and a giant foreign object permanently screwed (yes, screwed) into my bone, but I refused to stay in the hospital. I wanted to go home. I wanted to see my dog, Grace. Most of all, I wanted my bed and an ice-cold Coke.
All the medications in my system made for a delirious next couple of days. Besides my list of friends volunteering their time to walk Grace and do a quick check-in on me in the morning and evenings and family staying with me on some of the weekends, I spent the days alone, drifting in and out of sleep.
The isolation was the hardest. The constant state of slumber and the inability to get fully rested were also terrible, but the loneliness gutted me. I found myself craving conversation with people. I looked out my window every day at the shiny Minneapolis skyline as people went about their lives. It could’ve been the worst moments of my adult life if it weren’t for my loved ones.
Before I continue, I want to take this moment to thank those who helped me through this recovery period post-surgery.
Thank you so much to all my friends who came in the morning and evening to care for Grace and check in on me (or stick around for a bit so I wasn’t so lonely). You know who you are. I love and appreciate you so freaking much!
To my coworkers at St. Andrew Lutheran Church and the congregants, your support means the world to me, too. The heartfelt messages, thoughtful gifts, and prayers really made me feel loved.
To my family who stayed with me on the weekends to make sure I was okay, I love you. Thanks for dealing with me. To my Aunt Penny, who always supported me and was with me at the surgery, I love you so much. I want you to know that I appreciate you and will continue to do so forever. Thanks for being so great!
Finally, to the St. Andrew Early Learning students and staff who brought me adorable gifts (pictured above), thank you so much! They were perfect, and I cried when I saw the students’ cards. I appreciate everyone who supported me throughout this time.
The gifts, support, and love were so appreciated after weeks of loneliness. For three weeks, I “rested.” I slipped into my thoughts and allowed my body the opportunity it needed to heal. I hated it. I felt so much like a burden, mostly to myself. I felt like all that time sleeping a restless sleep could’ve been used to be productive here at the Daily Planet; I just didn’t have the strength.
Since we’re a small, not-for-profit budding news organization, my absence was clearly felt. For that, I apologize. I apologize to our contributors for not getting their work out there. I apologize to our readers, listeners, etc., for slowing the rotation of The Planet. As we grow, I hope to create an organization that can stand alone. Project Planet continues in full swing (just slower than I anticipated).
As the days dragged on, I found one glimmer of hope, and I clung to it and rode along with it somewhere over the rainbow. My musical-loving gay heart fluttered for joy every time I saw the marketing for the new movie “Wicked,” based on the hit Broadway musical of the same name.
Then came the film. Viewing the cinematic masterpiece was what I jokingly referred to as my “reintroduction to polite society.” Someone alert Lady Whistledown.
Its triumphant music, matched with stunning visuals, rekindled the creative spark within me. I left the theater the second time and was eager to get back to work.
Sure, the world—the Planet—has changed since I was first locked away in my apartment. Witches are captivating the attention of millions, elephants (r) have taken over Washington, D.C., and I have a major metal piece planted to my femur.
This world still requires reporting, commentating and capturing. Stories are out there, and they’re worth telling. It’s good to be back.
