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Book Releases August 2021
No Pity Party for Me:
The Girl Who Refused to Fail
by Paula Leone Heulings with Kathryn Ross
CHAPTER 1
THUD!
“Quit fooling around,” Alan murmured. He rolled over with a fluff to his pillow. “You getting David?”
Sprawled on the floor on the side of the bed, I was barely awake and painfully aware of the stabbing headache that had hounded me for the past two days.
“Mommy! Mommy!” Our two-year-old, David, called out to me from his crib.
I tried. I really tried to move my legs. To will my muscles to flex and push me to stand. To walk.
To no avail.
Tears welled in my eyes out of frustration. Fear clutched my throat and choked me in sudden panic. My breath shortened in little gasps of dread, confusion, and staccato shrieks building to a blood curdling scream.
Alan sat erect, shocked wide awake. “What! Paula? What? Are you crying?” He stumbled out of bed and around the other side then looked at me laying there, helpless in a heap.
Something was very wrong.
“I can’t get up! My legs won’t work! Come to me! Do something!”
Three days earlier I’d celebrated my older sister’s engagement. Marianne and her fiancé Dean decked out the yard at his parent’s house on the water in Collings Lake, New Jersey for a big party.
The Sunday afternoon sun shone brightly over the festivities as adults played horseshoes while the kids ran about enjoying the grassy grounds. Old friends gathered for the event and sat together under shade trees. Dean’s carefully compiled playlist of favorite tunes provided the background soundtrack featuring the chart-topping hit makers of 1986: Michael Jackson, Bon Jovi, and Whitney Houston. Lively chatter filled the air as everyone caught up on each other’s lives.
Guests enjoyed a buffet of home-made salads, Mom’s meatballs, and each family member’s favorite potluck recipe. Harry, Dean’s dad, grilled hamburgers and hot dogs over charcoal flames. The scent wafted through the yard awaking everyone’s appetite.
Crowned with a huge sheet cake in honor of the happy couple, the dessert table featured my famous ambrosia and my oldest sister Susan’s signature cream puffs. The sweets and salads were magnets for all manner of flies, gnats, and a bee or two, even though we made a valiant effort to keep the food covered throughout the humid summer afternoon.
The day wore on as Marianne and Dean opened their gifts--including a total of three toasters-- to a chorus of approval. They thanked their guests for coming. The food, fun, and games eventually drew to a close. Most of the friends and relatives left as the late afternoon shadows fell, but a few stragglers wandered to the end of the dock overlooking the lake. Alan and I watched our toddler son David play in the sand and weeds nearby. We laughed at his cute attempts to skip stones at the edge of the water with PopPop Vinnie--my father.
“Ouch!” Marianne slapped her shin. “Nasty mosquitos.”
Dean put his arm around her and pouted playfully. “Awww. ‘Cause you’re so sweet, Mair.”
My husband, Alan, put his arm around me and laughed. “Say, Dean--how about we take the boat out before it gets dark?”
“Good idea! Hey, who wants to go for a sail?” Dean jumped into the boat and started to prep for some late-day fun on the water. “This is the perfect way to close out the party.”
“I’m in!” I said, and confidently climbed aboard with Mair and Alan.
I believed myself to be a professional sailor. After all, I went to summer camp throughout my teen years and learned to sail on the challenging waves of the Chesapeake Bay. Marriage and motherhood did not quell my adventurous spirit. At nineteen and the baby in the family, I took on the responsibilities of adulthood early when I married before my middle sister. I held down a day job in a hair salon and worked towards my beautician’s certificate at night, kept home for my husband, and faced the demands of toddlerhood undaunted. My energy and enthusiasm for life remained youthful and fearless. Like an intrepid kid I was usually up for anything that smacked of fun and enterprise. Knowing David was safe with mom and dad for an hour or so, a late day jaunt on the water after our all-day party was right up my alley.
“I’ve got the rope over here, Dean! Ready to cast off when you are!”
The small Sunfish with its blue and white striped sail slid away from shore, cheered on by some of our remaining friends who waited on the dock. We took turns heading out since the boat could only hold four at a time. Being the expert sailor, I was determined to play first mate to Dean as captain for each trip. Alan and I waved at David and PopPop, who were joined by Mom at the edge of the water. I breathed in the fresh air and lifted my face to the gentle breeze as we skimmed over the lake. For the first few moments we remained silent, just enjoying the comfort of the rocking boat and lapping of the waves against the sides. Eventually, our conversation turned to wedding planning ideas with lots of laughter and cheerful hope for the future.
Dusk fell swiftly and we made our way home on the last sail around, tied up at the dock, and stepped back on shore. I needed to get David from my mother who had put him to work on clean-up detail gathering balloons and streamers. He took immediate possession of his treasures with glee.
“Still plenty of clean-up to do,” Mom said. “Many hands make light work.” She pointed to the trash bags and tables that needed clearing. We all pitched in. The guys folded up tables and chairs while the kids gathered trash. I grabbed empty salad bowls and brought them into the kitchen where Mom had suds up to her elbows rinsing everything in sight.
“Just put the bowls on the table, Paula. I’ll get them in a minute,” she said. Then her brows furrowed as she looked close at me. “Ooo, what’s that huge welt on your shoulder?”
“Welt?” I twisted my neck to the left to see where she pointed. Yep--there was a welt, alright. “Probably just a mosquito bite. There were tons of them out there. I’m surprised we weren’t eaten alive.”
We slept soundly that night after a long, fun-filled day.
The next morning it was back to the daily routine. Alan and I readied ourselves for work and I dressed David to take him to my parents’ house for the day. “I want to take my balloons, Mommy,” he said, holding three helium balloons tight to his fist.
“Fine. Fine.” I had no desire to argue with a toddler. I felt a sudden surge of weakness and tried to shake it off. Must have overdone it yesterday! I thought. But by the time we arrived at Mom’s house, my head stung with a piercing pain. I’d never known a headache like that before and had to sit down on the couch.
“You okay, hun?” Mom said.
“Yeah. Just a headache. I’ll be fine in a minute.” I’m good.” I planned to sit down for only a minute or two. Then exhaustion overtook me, and I had to lay down.
I never made it to work that day.
Instead, I slept for hours. When mom woke me she found that I had a slight fever. She made chicken soup and I drank a little broth before heading home. What a weird day! After persevering through the splishy-splashy bathtub ritual with David I put him to bed and crawled under my own covers, still nursing my headache.
By morning, when the headache had not subsided and I still felt awful, I decided to go to the doctor. “Looks like a sinus infection,” he said, and prescribed antibiotics then sent me on my way.
I didn’t go to work at the salon that day, but at home there was plenty of work to be done: beds to make, random organizing to do, and mommy-time toddler games with David. The normal home routine moved along smoothly enough, despite my nagging headache and the mosquito welt on my left shoulder that remained mildly annoying.
A mosquito bite.
THE mosquito bite.
The mosquito bite that changed my life.
THUD!
“Quit fooling around,” Alan murmured. He rolled over with a fluff to his pillow. “You getting David?”
Sprawled on the floor on the side of the bed, I was barely awake and painfully aware of the stabbing headache that had hounded me for the past two days.
“Mommy! Mommy!” Our two-year-old, David, called out to me from his crib.
I tried. I really tried to move my legs. To will my muscles to flex and push me to stand. To walk.
To no avail.
Tears welled in my eyes out of frustration. Fear clutched my throat and choked me in sudden panic. My breath shortened in little gasps of dread, confusion, and staccato shrieks building to a blood curdling scream.
Alan sat erect, shocked wide awake. “What! Paula? What? Are you crying?” He stumbled out of bed and around the other side then looked at me laying there, helpless in a heap.
Something was very wrong.
“I can’t get up! My legs won’t work! Come to me! Do something!”
Three days earlier I’d celebrated my older sister’s engagement. Marianne and her fiancé Dean decked out the yard at his parent’s house on the water in Collings Lake, New Jersey for a big party.
The Sunday afternoon sun shone brightly over the festivities as adults played horseshoes while the kids ran about enjoying the grassy grounds. Old friends gathered for the event and sat together under shade trees. Dean’s carefully compiled playlist of favorite tunes provided the background soundtrack featuring the chart-topping hit makers of 1986: Michael Jackson, Bon Jovi, and Whitney Houston. Lively chatter filled the air as everyone caught up on each other’s lives.
Guests enjoyed a buffet of home-made salads, Mom’s meatballs, and each family member’s favorite potluck recipe. Harry, Dean’s dad, grilled hamburgers and hot dogs over charcoal flames. The scent wafted through the yard awaking everyone’s appetite.
Crowned with a huge sheet cake in honor of the happy couple, the dessert table featured my famous ambrosia and my oldest sister Susan’s signature cream puffs. The sweets and salads were magnets for all manner of flies, gnats, and a bee or two, even though we made a valiant effort to keep the food covered throughout the humid summer afternoon.
The day wore on as Marianne and Dean opened their gifts--including a total of three toasters-- to a chorus of approval. They thanked their guests for coming. The food, fun, and games eventually drew to a close. Most of the friends and relatives left as the late afternoon shadows fell, but a few stragglers wandered to the end of the dock overlooking the lake. Alan and I watched our toddler son David play in the sand and weeds nearby. We laughed at his cute attempts to skip stones at the edge of the water with PopPop Vinnie--my father.
“Ouch!” Marianne slapped her shin. “Nasty mosquitos.”
Dean put his arm around her and pouted playfully. “Awww. ‘Cause you’re so sweet, Mair.”
My husband, Alan, put his arm around me and laughed. “Say, Dean--how about we take the boat out before it gets dark?”
“Good idea! Hey, who wants to go for a sail?” Dean jumped into the boat and started to prep for some late-day fun on the water. “This is the perfect way to close out the party.”
“I’m in!” I said, and confidently climbed aboard with Mair and Alan.
I believed myself to be a professional sailor. After all, I went to summer camp throughout my teen years and learned to sail on the challenging waves of the Chesapeake Bay. Marriage and motherhood did not quell my adventurous spirit. At nineteen and the baby in the family, I took on the responsibilities of adulthood early when I married before my middle sister. I held down a day job in a hair salon and worked towards my beautician’s certificate at night, kept home for my husband, and faced the demands of toddlerhood undaunted. My energy and enthusiasm for life remained youthful and fearless. Like an intrepid kid I was usually up for anything that smacked of fun and enterprise. Knowing David was safe with mom and dad for an hour or so, a late day jaunt on the water after our all-day party was right up my alley.
“I’ve got the rope over here, Dean! Ready to cast off when you are!”
The small Sunfish with its blue and white striped sail slid away from shore, cheered on by some of our remaining friends who waited on the dock. We took turns heading out since the boat could only hold four at a time. Being the expert sailor, I was determined to play first mate to Dean as captain for each trip. Alan and I waved at David and PopPop, who were joined by Mom at the edge of the water. I breathed in the fresh air and lifted my face to the gentle breeze as we skimmed over the lake. For the first few moments we remained silent, just enjoying the comfort of the rocking boat and lapping of the waves against the sides. Eventually, our conversation turned to wedding planning ideas with lots of laughter and cheerful hope for the future.
Dusk fell swiftly and we made our way home on the last sail around, tied up at the dock, and stepped back on shore. I needed to get David from my mother who had put him to work on clean-up detail gathering balloons and streamers. He took immediate possession of his treasures with glee.
“Still plenty of clean-up to do,” Mom said. “Many hands make light work.” She pointed to the trash bags and tables that needed clearing. We all pitched in. The guys folded up tables and chairs while the kids gathered trash. I grabbed empty salad bowls and brought them into the kitchen where Mom had suds up to her elbows rinsing everything in sight.
“Just put the bowls on the table, Paula. I’ll get them in a minute,” she said. Then her brows furrowed as she looked close at me. “Ooo, what’s that huge welt on your shoulder?”
“Welt?” I twisted my neck to the left to see where she pointed. Yep--there was a welt, alright. “Probably just a mosquito bite. There were tons of them out there. I’m surprised we weren’t eaten alive.”
We slept soundly that night after a long, fun-filled day.
The next morning it was back to the daily routine. Alan and I readied ourselves for work and I dressed David to take him to my parents’ house for the day. “I want to take my balloons, Mommy,” he said, holding three helium balloons tight to his fist.
“Fine. Fine.” I had no desire to argue with a toddler. I felt a sudden surge of weakness and tried to shake it off. Must have overdone it yesterday! I thought. But by the time we arrived at Mom’s house, my head stung with a piercing pain. I’d never known a headache like that before and had to sit down on the couch.
“You okay, hun?” Mom said.
“Yeah. Just a headache. I’ll be fine in a minute.” I’m good.” I planned to sit down for only a minute or two. Then exhaustion overtook me, and I had to lay down.
I never made it to work that day.
Instead, I slept for hours. When mom woke me she found that I had a slight fever. She made chicken soup and I drank a little broth before heading home. What a weird day! After persevering through the splishy-splashy bathtub ritual with David I put him to bed and crawled under my own covers, still nursing my headache.
By morning, when the headache had not subsided and I still felt awful, I decided to go to the doctor. “Looks like a sinus infection,” he said, and prescribed antibiotics then sent me on my way.
I didn’t go to work at the salon that day, but at home there was plenty of work to be done: beds to make, random organizing to do, and mommy-time toddler games with David. The normal home routine moved along smoothly enough, despite my nagging headache and the mosquito welt on my left shoulder that remained mildly annoying.
A mosquito bite.
THE mosquito bite.
The mosquito bite that changed my life.