Achilles Needs To Heal
Donation protected
My name is Patricia Kennealy Morrison, and I'm an author with 18 books out. Some of you might know me from my novels (a science-fantasy series called The Keltiad, a mystery series called "The Rock & Roll Murders"), a memoir called "Strange Days: My Life with and without Jim Morrison" or "Rock Chick: A Girl and Her Music", a compilation of my columns and articles from my days as a rock critic); or from Oliver Stone's movie "The Doors", in which I am portrayed by actress Kathleen Quinlan and also appear in a cameo.
I also had a career in record company advertising, in which I wrote campaigns for some of the biggest stars around in the 1970s: I created David Bowie's first four campaigns ("Hunky Dory" through "Pin Ups", and worked with David personally), and did ads for everyone from Billy Joel (two Clio nominations), Paul McCartney and Barbra Streisand to Mott the Hoople, James Taylor and Tangerine Dream.
Then I started writing books instead.
Walking down First Avenue a week ago, I took a bad step, much like a racehorse except I wasn't going NEARLY so fast. Much to my surprise, when I caught myself up before I fell on my face, I discovered that my foot was, basically, hanging off my leg in two pieces---the classic, and quite horrifically named, "foot drop".
I had torn my Achilles tendon clean off the bone, and only thanks to the kindness of two strangers did I manage to literally crawl into a cab and around the corner to Mount Sinai Beth Israel, where they gave me the happy news: I wouldn't need to be put down like Ruffian, but I would have to go straight into a walking boot---big Robocop thing---to mitigate further damage, and then I would need crutches, a walker, a knee scooter, surgery, a hard cast, and weeks, if not months, of rehab. A very costly prospect.
Since I live alone, I have no one to help out with the medical stuff and even things like paying bills, etc. I won't be able to work outside my apartment, and all I can do will be to stay home and write and deal with rehab and depend on neighbors and friends to do the smallest of things, like shop for me and collect the mail and schlep the laundry around the corner.
And it gets more ridiculous still. and much more dramatic and dangerous: early in December I collapsed in the street and was taken to hospital by ambulance. Diagnosis: A large saddle pulmonary embolism, and if I hadn't gone to the hospital I would have DIED.
So now I have to go on Eliquis, an extremely expensive blood thinner medication ($450 a month!), which I have only been able to afford so far because of your incredibly generous donations. We're working on ways to get it more cheaply, but for the moment, that's it.
I have insurance and Medicare, but the bills outside the policy are already mounting up. So much as I hate to ask for help, I must. I wouldn't expect much: the cost of a Starbucks double chocolate chip creme frappuccino, maybe. The cost of lunch for one at Burger King. If anyone wanted to donate more, that would be a total mitzvah. (Even though I'm not Jewish.) That's what the donations would go for; if anything was left over, I would hope to be able to turn it over to help other people in similar unexpected need.
I could offer small rewards like autographed bookplates or an autographed paperback. For larger contributions, a signed personalized hardcover of your choice; maybe some collector would be interested in copies of my Bowie ads, for instance, one of which was included in the much-praised traveling museum exhibit, "David Bowie Is", displayed right next to one of his Ziggy costumes, boots and all.
Really significant donations could be thanked by cameo appearances in future books, either the Keltiad series or the Rennie Stride rock&roll murder mysteries, or even suggested plotlines starring yourself backstage at the Fillmore East hanging with legendary bands or off in interstellar outer space as a dashing starship commander or intergalactic royalty. Or as a Viking warrior or wench in 9th-century England, in the current work in progress. All negotiable.
As I said above, I hate to ask. But it would be nice to be able to walk again, and however much you guys out there could help with this would be more appreciated than you can imagine. I know that so many people here have far, far more disastrous needs and calamitous stories, and I've donated to help them in my time, as and when I can. So all I can say is that I would be most thankful for any kind of assistance with this total and unexpected emergency. It's going to be a long and difficult haul. And, of course, blessings to you even just for good and healing thoughts. Thank you.
I also had a career in record company advertising, in which I wrote campaigns for some of the biggest stars around in the 1970s: I created David Bowie's first four campaigns ("Hunky Dory" through "Pin Ups", and worked with David personally), and did ads for everyone from Billy Joel (two Clio nominations), Paul McCartney and Barbra Streisand to Mott the Hoople, James Taylor and Tangerine Dream.
Then I started writing books instead.
Walking down First Avenue a week ago, I took a bad step, much like a racehorse except I wasn't going NEARLY so fast. Much to my surprise, when I caught myself up before I fell on my face, I discovered that my foot was, basically, hanging off my leg in two pieces---the classic, and quite horrifically named, "foot drop".
I had torn my Achilles tendon clean off the bone, and only thanks to the kindness of two strangers did I manage to literally crawl into a cab and around the corner to Mount Sinai Beth Israel, where they gave me the happy news: I wouldn't need to be put down like Ruffian, but I would have to go straight into a walking boot---big Robocop thing---to mitigate further damage, and then I would need crutches, a walker, a knee scooter, surgery, a hard cast, and weeks, if not months, of rehab. A very costly prospect.
Since I live alone, I have no one to help out with the medical stuff and even things like paying bills, etc. I won't be able to work outside my apartment, and all I can do will be to stay home and write and deal with rehab and depend on neighbors and friends to do the smallest of things, like shop for me and collect the mail and schlep the laundry around the corner.
And it gets more ridiculous still. and much more dramatic and dangerous: early in December I collapsed in the street and was taken to hospital by ambulance. Diagnosis: A large saddle pulmonary embolism, and if I hadn't gone to the hospital I would have DIED.
So now I have to go on Eliquis, an extremely expensive blood thinner medication ($450 a month!), which I have only been able to afford so far because of your incredibly generous donations. We're working on ways to get it more cheaply, but for the moment, that's it.
I have insurance and Medicare, but the bills outside the policy are already mounting up. So much as I hate to ask for help, I must. I wouldn't expect much: the cost of a Starbucks double chocolate chip creme frappuccino, maybe. The cost of lunch for one at Burger King. If anyone wanted to donate more, that would be a total mitzvah. (Even though I'm not Jewish.) That's what the donations would go for; if anything was left over, I would hope to be able to turn it over to help other people in similar unexpected need.
I could offer small rewards like autographed bookplates or an autographed paperback. For larger contributions, a signed personalized hardcover of your choice; maybe some collector would be interested in copies of my Bowie ads, for instance, one of which was included in the much-praised traveling museum exhibit, "David Bowie Is", displayed right next to one of his Ziggy costumes, boots and all.
Really significant donations could be thanked by cameo appearances in future books, either the Keltiad series or the Rennie Stride rock&roll murder mysteries, or even suggested plotlines starring yourself backstage at the Fillmore East hanging with legendary bands or off in interstellar outer space as a dashing starship commander or intergalactic royalty. Or as a Viking warrior or wench in 9th-century England, in the current work in progress. All negotiable.
As I said above, I hate to ask. But it would be nice to be able to walk again, and however much you guys out there could help with this would be more appreciated than you can imagine. I know that so many people here have far, far more disastrous needs and calamitous stories, and I've donated to help them in my time, as and when I can. So all I can say is that I would be most thankful for any kind of assistance with this total and unexpected emergency. It's going to be a long and difficult haul. And, of course, blessings to you even just for good and healing thoughts. Thank you.
Organizer
Patricia Kennealy-Morrison
Organizer
New York, NY