December 2024

A couple of people noticed that I didn’t send out a November newsletter. There are a few really good reasons for this omission. Well, they weren’t good for me, but they’re darned good excuses if you want to look at the big picture. I don’t especially, but I will anyway, so buckle your seatbelts.

On Saturday, October 19 (my older daughter Anni’s birthday) I experienced a painful gut ache. It felt different from other gut-aches I’d endured in the past, so I decided to drive myself up to the Lovelace Hospital’s ER in Roswell. Parked my car in their ER lot with my disability placard prominently hanging from the rearview mirror.

 Once I got there, the ER folks wouldn’t let me leave. I’m not kidding. The staff thought they knew what was wrong with me, although they didn’t tell me what they thought. Rather, they sent for an imaging specialist who lives in Dexter, a town not far from Roswell. It took him an hour or so to get to Roswell, and we chatted amiably as he scanned my abdomen. His diagnosis was (perhaps, according to him, although he couldn’t be sure) a gallstone trapped in my common bile duct. I’d never had gallbladder trouble before, so this was a new on one me. And is there an uncommon bile duct? I didn’t ask.

 The ER doc decided that, as a result of the imaging guy’s findings, I needed a procedure. The procedure I needed couldn’t be done in Roswell. I’d have to be transported to the University of TX’s hospital in Lubbock, TX (approximately 200 miles from Roswell). So okay. I called my neighbors to let them know what was going on and asked them to take care of Bam-Bam and Cookie for me. They agreed, bless them.

 And then weather news began to trickle in. A storm was on its way to Roswell. So okay. We got storms occasionally, even bad ones from time to time. This storm, however, was expected to be special. It was a huge one. Because of the weather situation Lovelace couldn’t helicopter me to Lubbock.

 The storm hit. Pow! The predictors of such things were correct for once. It was a gigantic storm. Heard it in the ER at Lovelace. Sounded as if the weather gods were heaving boulders onto the roof of the hospital. And my poor Bam-Bam and Cookie were home alone, scared, and without me. I think hospitals should allow pets.

The fury and damage from the storm meant an ambulance couldn’t get through from Lubbock to Roswell because all the roads were awash in water and floating cars. Wow, I’d never heard of a storm that big in Roswell! I didn’t get to see any of this, mind you, because I was in the Lovelace ER.

Lovelace’s ER day staff eventually left, and the ER night staff came on duty. They rolled my bed out into the hall to make way for others who needed emergency services. Glad I had my iPhone with a bunch of books on it. A kind doctor lent me a charger for my phone so I could continue listening to books. However, nobody would allow me to drink anything. I swear to dawg, I was not merely frustrated but also dying of thirst. Finally, they allowed me to swab my mouth with a spongy-tipped thing on a stick dipped in water, as long as I promised not to drink the water. I promised, and they gave me a glass of water and a spongy thing. Better than nothing.

After twenty-nine hours (believe me, I felt every one of them) in the Lovelace ER, a “transport truck” came to pick me up and bundle me off to Texas. A transport truck is like an army tank, only full of medical stuff. The nice driver and attendant strapped me in, and we took off for Lubbock. It was a bumpy ride. Still couldn’t see anything, although I heard about the chaos and destruction reigning in Roswell.

The folks in Lubbock were delightful.

 Side note: I’ve had an appreciation of nurses ever since the vertebrae in my lumbar spine fused together and had to be jack-hammered apart. After the divorce, the doc scraped out all the junk, put in spacers, and built a metal ladder to hold my lumbar disks in place. Never been in so much pain in my life (maybe labor, but labor didn’t last as long as recovery from lumbar surgery). I was closed up like a clamshell because I couldn’t move. Then the nurses let me have ice chips, for which I was extremely grateful until I threw them up all over myself. I don’t think I’ve ever been as pathetic as I was then. I actually cried and said, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” It’s true; I turned into a sniveling weenie. Know what the nurses said? They said, “It’s all right. That’s why we’re here,” and they cleaned me up, changed my gown and bedding, and didn’t even scold. Nurses have been my heroes ever since. The nurses in Lubbock cemented my admiration of nurses as a group. Also, thanks to the lumbar surgery, two hip-replacement surgeries, a shoulder-replacement surgery and broken-femur repair surgery, I set off alarms at airports, but at least I don’t have to take off my shoes any longer! For several years after the lumbar surgery and before the broken femur incident, I could fall flat on my back and get right back up again, with nothing to show for it but whiplash. My lumbar spine is solid! End side note.

Okay, so I’m now in Lubbock, and it’s the afternoon of October 20. I called home to check on the dogs only to find that my neighbors had three feet of standing water in their house, my house was full of mud, the garage had been destroyed, and all the fences in the entire neighborhood had been wiped out Yeeks. Tried to find info about the Roswell disaster on my phone and managed to come up with some videos and photos. Wow. Whatta mess. So glad I missed it.

Still no food or water for me, though. I didn’t care about food, but I was dry as the desert usually is, except in cases of massive storms. When the nurses attempted to hook me up to one of those poles in order to drip fluids and antibiotics into me my veins, which are usually prominent and right there, if you know what I mean, went into hiding. Every time a nurse found a vein, it galloped away from the needle as if it were a gazelle escaping from a lion. Ow. For weeks after I got out of the hospital, I found remnants of tape all over my body. Not to mention big fat bruises. They finally managed to connect me to a power supply, although twice they had to call in experts. Not sure what the experts are called, but evidently if mere nurse-nurses can’t find a vein, there are special vein-finder nurses who can. And, by gum, they did! Both times.

On October 21, the much-vaunted “procedure” was performed. Didn’t hurt much. Back in my room (Lubbock allows each patient his/her own room, which is nice) I was finally allowed to drink water! Transports of ecstasy. I was allowed food, too, but I was more thrilled about the water.

Now, however, I began to worry about how the heck I’d get home again. Also wondered what would be there if I managed to find transportation. My insurance was no good. They paid for getting me to Lubbock, but I’d have to walk home. Oh joy. Oh rapture.

My daughters called and told me that Robin (younger daughter), her husband Gilbert, and my younger grandson Riki, were all driving to Roswell to help muck out the house and deal with rescue folks. They’d rented an Airbnb, but wouldn’t be able to get to Roswell until Wednesday, October 23. My older daughter Anni and my great-niece Sara started manning the telephones and Facebook sources in an attempt to coordinate disaster relief and ask for donations. I appreciated them hugely, although I still feared I’d have to spend the night on the street.

But no.

A few hours after the procedure was over, a doctor bipped into my room and started talking to me about scheduling surgery to remove my gallbladder. Huh? What was this?

He explained that the procedure had discovered sludge in my gallbladder, and the best way to deal with sludge was to remove the gallbladder. Okay then. Another day or two in the hospital for me. The timing worked well, since nobody could transport me from Lubbock to Roswell until Thursday, and I didn’t fancy walking.

My gallbladder came out on October 23. Robin drove from Roswell to Lubbock to pick me up from the hospital on the 24th. My tummy hurt a good deal, although I know gallbladder surgery isn’t a big, dangerous surgery. Still... The surgery guys went in through my navel and hauled everything out that way. At least I think that’s what laparoscopic surgery is all about. I do know that my belly button looked like the entrance to a trapdoor spider’s nest for several days.

When we arrived in Roswell, Robin took me for a small tour of the disaster area (my neighborhood, in other words). Disaster is the correct word for it. Everyone was putting their furniture and appliances on the curb for pick-up, and Gilbert was attempting to scoop all the mud from the garage and the used-to-be-adorable little apartment next to the garage. My neighbors on all sides and I lost pretty much everything when it came to appliances, furniture, etc. The normally peaceful and dry Spring River bed, which is a block north of my house, had overflowed its banks and a wall of water smashed everything in its path. I was luckier than some. Entire homes were destroyed, and a few people died. Cars from dealerships all over town floated hither and yon. My car, however, was safe and sound in the Lovelace ER’s parking lot! If it had been in my garage, I wouldn’t have a car any longer. The water got up to around three feet in the garage and annex (what we call the apartment off the garage). As Gilbert was mucking out the garage that evening, he took a photo of this fellow, who turned out to be a wolf spider. Wolf spiders look big and mean, but they eat bad bugs, so good for him. He was another helper.

(l-r) Riki (in blue gloves) packing the remains of my earthly belongings in the garage; the Annex; wolf spider.

Okay, so Robin, Gilbert, Riki, and I were in a nice Airbnb north of the flooded-out area. Rescue folks from nearly every religious organization known to man gathered and attempted to help us flood victims. Much appreciated. Finally the Feds declared Chaves County (Roswell, Artesia, and Hagerman) a National Disaster Area, so we could file a claim with FEMA. Robin and Anni got that ball rolling. I’d just had surgery and suffered from anesthesia-brain-syndrome, so they had to do all the thinking. Again, I’m so glad I didn’t have to do much decision-making. I did get to call contractors, relief organizations, and dog-boarding facilities. The Cielo Grande Vet Clinic in Roswell offered boarding for pets of flood victims at no charge. We had to pay for the initial vetting of the dogs, but they didn’t charge boarding fees to those of us who had lost everything. Exceptionally nice of them. Only problem is that Cookie and Bam-Bam are still there. Haven’t seen them since the morning of October 19. Sniffle.

(l-r) Gilbert & Robin on the ukelele and Riki on the guitar; My house sans fence; Third street from my house to the east. See any fences? I don't either.

But what about me? My house, while still standing, was uninhabitable. Fortunately (or maybe not), I’m at the age when one’s adult children begin making life decisions for one (the one in this case being me). I was told that Anni and Razmik (her hubby) were madly building a small mother-in-law apartment on their property in Weldon, California, and that’s where I was going. Okay then. What to do in the meantime? The apartment wouldn’t be ready for occupancy for two weeks.

Enter a marvelous friend who lives in Albuquerque, Tabitha Hall! Tabitha offered me room and board for as long as it took to get the Weldon apartment ready. I will be forever grateful to Tabitha for taking me in, feeding me, taking me shopping for shoes (I only had one pair of shoes to my name, and I was wearing them). Fortunately, Skechers was having a buy-one-get-one-for-half-off sale. So I’m now the possessor of two pairs of shoes, a gray one and a black one. My ten-year-old sneakers went into the trash. They were falling apart anyway. And Tabitha bought me clothes! What a sweetheart! Her generosity touched me so deeply, I get teary-eyed thinking about it. I also saw David Bedini in his natural habitat (a bar and grill in Albuquerque where he sang the blues). I made Dave a villain in the last Mercy book, but he wasn’t especially villainous. I apologized to him for that. Tabitha took me all over the place in Albuquerque, which is a big, busy city these days! Great place. I wish my ancestors had settled in Albuquerque instead of Roswell. Oh well.

(l-r): Tabitha with William, the long-haired mini dachshund, who speaks like a Chihuahua!; Tabitha and Daisy Mae, who is, like Cookie, a purebred New Mexico Street Dog; Marilyn, Tabitha's smooth-coated Collie.

And here's the Great Bendini at the Grill in Albuquerque!

Tabitha also took me to the Organic Bookstore, owned and run by Steve Brewer, who writes mysteries. I’ve read some of them, too, what’s more. Here’s Steve. You can’t tell from this photo, but Steve is tall. 6’5”? Can’t remember precisely, but he’s more than a foot taller than I am. Then again, so many people are. It was cool talking books with another author who isn’t a multi-millionaire bestseller. I’m sure his books sell better than mine, but still. He understands it all.

Steve Brewer

On November 21, Tabitha drove me to the airport in Albuquerque, and an airplane flew me to Phoenix, where I got onto another airplane that took me to Bakersfield. Bakersfield is the closest big city to Weldon. The mother-in-law apartment is adorable, and I’m happy to be back in California. Also, there are ravens all over the place here! Love ravens.

The saga continues, but I won’t document it all here. I’m extremely lucky to have such great friends. One of them, Kira Steinberg, aims to fly to Roswell, rescue Bam-Bam and Cookie from the vet clinic, and fly them back to her own dog-boarding kennel in Chehalis, Washington! Kira is the daughter of my late best friend, Barbara Masters, whom I still miss. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate Kira for taking in my poor abandoned hounds. Well, Cookie’s a mixed terriorist, but she’s black-and-tan. Bam-Bam used to be black-and-tan, too, but now he’s mostly gray. I miss them both terribly, and will be forever grateful for Kira’s assistance.

You know, I can’t help but think I’m really too old to be starting from scratch (I turned 79 yesterday, for pity’s sake), but one plays the cards one is dealt in this funny old life, I reckon. Do I sound like a wise, if antique, prospector? Well, I’m not. I’m a cranky old woman who is living on other people’s sufferance, and it’s a new role for me. I’ve been independent for decades. Too bad. Razmik got me a birthday cake, which was very nice of him. Also, the cake tastes as good as it looks!

There is no way to retrieve the names of everyone who has helped me through this latest crisis in my life. My great-niece Sara put out a Go Fund Me plea for funds, as I’d lost everything. Other people have sent me checks and gift cards and so forth. I can’t even begin to tell you how much everyone’s kindness means to me. Well, in this case, it means my whole world.

My own finances (such as they were), those of Robin and Gilbert, those of Anni and Razmik, and those of Riki have been wiped out by this catastrophe. I feel guilty about it, too, although I wasn’t the one who made the rains come and the river overflow. Still and all, they spent their hard-earned bucks on my behalf, and I wish I could repay them. Can’t, darn it. Anni and I got in touch with the FEMA folks a couple of days ago, however, and they’re releasing funds to my (new) bank in Weldon, CA, so maybe I can reimburse them a few cents on the dollar. My home insurance company didn’t cover a dime, because floods are specifically excluded from the policy. Never mind that the storm caused the flood. These insurance guys use every trick in the book to keep you from getting back any of the money you’ve paid them over the years. Most of my neighbors have the same problem. Who’d ever think of getting flood insurance in Roswell, New Mexico, for the love of dawg? 

Anni, who is ever on the ball, has even made an appointment for me to see a doctor in Weldon. We go there on Monday. So goody, I guess. Need to renew my driver’s license too, and if my car ever gets here I’ll have to register it in CA, which costs at least twice as much as it would in NM. But I’m not whining (much). I’m incredibly glad I now live in the same state as my kids. 

I owe books to many of you; unfortunately, if any of the books written by me survived the storm, they’re packed away in boxes in the garage in Roswell. They’ll be brought to me eventually, but I don’t know where we’ll put them when they get here. No book giveaway for December, I reckon. For one thing, I have no books here, and for another thing, Bam-Bam isn’t here to pick a wiener! Boo. Because I have nothing to give away, I’ll give you photos of various stages of the last couple of months. 

By the way, have I ever mentioned that the Duncan clan motto is “Learn to Suffer”? Well, it is. 

No book news to report except that I turned in Spirits Adopted. I really love this book! Made for a nice change from Celluloid Angels, which I disliked from start to finish. There will be more in store for both Daisy and Mercy, and maybe even an offshoot or two. Providing I live long enough. 

If you’re on Facebook, please join Daisy Daze! Anyone who has an interest in the 1920s will probably find Daisy Daze interesting, at least sometimes. Daisy Dazers give me plotting advice all the time. They’ve been going at it like gangbusters lately and I’m extremely grateful for their ideas. Daisy Daze was founded by Iris Evans and Leon Fundenberger, both of whom like Daisy and Mercy. Daisy Daze is a great place for Daisy Gumm Majesty Rotondo and Mercedes Louise Allcutt (soon to be Templeton) fans to hang out, as well as anyone who is interested in the “Roaring Twenties.” We concentrate pretty closely on the Pasadena and Los Angeles areas, because the books are set there. We also cover a lot of stuff relating to early motion pictures, because both Daisy and Mercy have friends in the biz. Daisy Daze is entertaining, it’s educational and if you’d like to be a member, check it out here: https://www.facebook.com/groups/905100189878318/

If you’d like to visit my web page, here’s the link, thanks to Lyndele von Schill, who seems to be capable of doing anything and everything. Amazing woman, Lyndele. So glad she befriended me on Facebook! Home | Alice Duncan . If you’d like to be Facebook friends, please go here: (20+) Alice Duncan | Facebook .

Here’s a link to my author page at ePublishingWorks: Alice Duncan Author Page (ebookdiscovery.com)

 Thank you!