Unbalanced.

I have terrible balance. I have trouble standing on both feet in my back yard and looking up to see the stars. I sway like a palm tree in trade winds. I cannot stand on one foot for any reason without holding on to something.

I fall a lot -- a few years ago I somehow stubbed a toe on the hallway carpet and pretty much folded my foot in half and then fell on it. I broke nine bones.

I have fallen walking up stairs as well as going down. I have baptized myself with soda as I fell with a drink in my hand. I've had to quit wearing any kind of high heel because my ankles bend so easily that it's guaranteed I will fall.

 I fell in the waiting room of a doctor's  office when I got up after my name was called. That got me some spectacular bruises and some very worried doctors who were afraid I would sue them.

Over the years I have learned how to fall, and how to survive the aftermath.

It's a matter of perspective. I could feel sorry for myself and have a pity party because my balance is shot and my weakened joints makes falling a regular occurrence, or I can laugh about how ridiculous I look.

Case in point: I used to cover all the entertainment events at the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum. It's a beautiful place loaded with western art, a Rodeo Hall of Fame, the Hall of Great Western Performers and a lovely area full of memorabilia from movie and TV Westerns.

John Wayne is well represented there, as is Jimmy Stewart, Glenn Ford, James Arness and modern actors like  David, Keith and Robert Carradine, James Garner, Ernest Borgnine, Tommy Lee Jones and Tom Selleck.

Every year actors get added to that list when the museum has its Wrangler Awards. They're given for literature, music, movies, TV shows and mini-series as well as the men and women who own and run ranches throughout the West.

It's a two-day event. The first night is a meet and greet cocktail party so the honorees can mingle with museum patrons who bought tickets. The second night is a formal dinner where the statues are presented.

Cowboy hats and boots are worn with tuxedos while the ladies put on their red carpet-worthy gowns and their good jewelry.

Before the dinner the media gets a chance to interview all the award recipients in a VIP room. Cameras of all sorts are set up, notebooks are out and notes taken. The media also gets to dress for this night, including me.

One year I was wearing a sapphire blue, floor length strapless gown when I caught the hem of my dress on the tip of my shoe.

Down I went, flat on my face. It was one of those horrible moments when all talking ceases and everyone, movie stars included, had their eyes on the woman flat on the floor.

It was totally humiliating, but in that split second I knew everything depended on my reaction-- kind of like when a toddler falls down and looks around to see whether he needs to cry or just get up and keep toddling.

I decided to get up and laugh if off. Thank heaven, nothing was hurt but my pride and when I started laughing, everyone continued their conversations and my husband and an actor helped me back on my feet.

The saving grace for me was that Mr. Selleck wasn't in the room. I had just regained my footing when he walked in and I promptly walked over to him and started asking him questions about the project that garnered him a Wrangler.

I also counted my blessings that nothing popped out of the top of the gown. The dress fit so well that nothing moved.

Several years earlier the late Charlton Heston was being honored and I caught him as he and his wife entered the museum.

I promised the legendary actor that if would give me about 10 minutes right then I wouldn't bother him the rest of the event and he kindly obliged.

I set my drink down by my right shoe and started asking questions. He was nice and gave me some great material to include in my main story. I have to admit I was pretty much star struck to be standing a foot away from the man  who played Moses and Ben Hur.

As we wound up our interview I was thanking him for his time when he interrupted me to remind me my drink was very close to my shoe.

I was so grateful. I know had he not pointed it out I would have knocked over the drink and the probably slipped on the slick floor.

I miss covering those galas because over the years I became friends with several actors who attended, and once got to save one of them by creating cuff links using silver conchos and leather strips.

Barry Corbin (probably best know as the astronaut in "Northern Exposure" was backstage panicking because he had forgotten to bring any cuff links and his shirt had French cuffs.

The conchos and leather strips had been used as napkin rings and I was able to fashion what turned out to be a great set with a little ingenuity and I made a friend in the process.

Sandi rants about addicts/sent

I have worked for years to appear to be a pretty calm person.  Mostly I succeed but there is one subject that will set me off like a cruise missile.
I started treating my arthritis with aspirin, yes, plain ole aspirin, in the 1970s. It took decades for me to start taking any pain medications that were addictive, and I did my homework.
I know when you take a narcotic for its intended purpose it works to stop the pain. That's it. Yes, there are side effects but not the ones people expect. I don't get high.
This is where I get angry.
I know many people who get high on various plants and other illegal substances and that is their decision. It's when they start messing around with the drugs I need to get me though the day I get mad.
I'd give about a million bucks to find out what the high is like that a healthy person feels when they take a drug meant for me or someone with a condition that responds to that drug. It must be something else because they have stolen prescriptions from my purse, offered me money for them and when I say no, they found someone to say yes.
They abuse doctors, lie to pain clinics and get the very drugs that so many of us must have to function in any capacity so they can enjoy a few hours of some kind of escape.
Then, when they get caught, they are sorry. They go go rehab and do whatever they do there and most of the time they leave the facility and start right back up.
I would also like to trade bodies with these people so they can feel what I deal with all the time for five minutes. I want them to know that every illegal pill they take makes it that much harder for anyone with chronic pain to get them legally.
I go through the same tests now as someone who abuses drugs. I get random drug screenings that I have to pay for to prove I have those opiates in my system, that I didn't sell them to some person who thinks they need them more than me.
I've had to take my pill bottles in and have the pills counted in my presence to prove that I take them when I'm supposed to, that I don't double up on them or I don't know what.
I know the bottom line is addicts don't really give a flying f*** what I think or how I feel, they just want to be high and are as addicted to them as I am for the pain relief they give.
I live in a state with one of the highest opiate abuse rates in the nation, so I really have to keep my mouth shut in public about what I have and what I take. I can only get a 30 day supply at one time, show my ID when I drop off a script and when I pick it up. The state drug agency now has my name on a list somewhere because I am a regular user.
I've also discovered that my pharmacy has a limit to the those very drugs they can get each month. If I get there after their allocation is gone, I've got to start hitting other pharmacies, hoping they still have enough left for my prescription.
I don't appreciate this, and every time I see a celebrity entering rehab instead of jail for having drugs they shouldn't have, I get angrier.
What can I do? Nothing really. I just wanted to get this off my chest and hope someone who takes drugs because they're fun will look at this and realize those pills weren't made for them, that somewhere someone is writhing in pain because they can't get them.
And I hope they go straight to hell.

To be or not to be

Aunt Sandi reflects on a tough decision.

I admire mothers more than any other group.
It's a non-stop job from the moment your child is handed to you after birth and it never ends.
Long after you are gone, you live on in your children and their children. Stories about you will be told for generations, your precious possessions will be cherished by your descendants.
I made the toughest decision of my life in my early 30s.
I decided not to have any children.
My practice husband and I had always planned to wait until we were in our 30s to start a family and by the time we got there, our marriage was falling apart.
Most interestingly, our divorce had nothing to do with my decision.
Genetics did. 
I had my first genetic panel done when I was 33, and that's when it was confirmed I have the gene that carries arthritis, asthma, allergies and multiple sclerosis and I had a 50/50 chance of passing it on.
In my mind I saw two scenarios, neither pretty.
First, my child would grow up with a sick mom. I had no way of guessing how sick I would get, but not being able to do things like pick them up or run and play on a playground was a hard one. Also, I had no way to gauge the toll pregnancy would take on my already battered body and damaged spine.
The clincher was the chance I'd have a baby who could develop one of the diseases on that gene. How do you explain to a two-year-old why they are in pain and if they would take this pill or that shot they would feel better?
One summer I spoke at a camp for children with rheumatoid arthritis so they could see that they too could have a fun job while dealing with this nasty disease. What got to me were the questions they asked me about the realities of living with arthritis.
"Did I cry when they stuck me with the needles for blood tests?"
"Did the people laugh at me when I fell asleep in class because I hadn't been able to sleep the night before?"
I showed them the big white dents in the crook of my arm and was able to give them some cold comfort: "After a few years of those blood tests, the nerves there will die and it won't hurt at all."
I told them not to be afraid to ask for help or to ride in a wheelchair when the pain was so bad.
After that visit, I thought about it a long time and finally decided to not roll those dice.
Though I don't have children of my own, I have nieces and nephews, both by blood and by love. 
Perhaps because I have never had to truly grow up and take care of my own children, I am the go-to aunt for fun. 
All my brothers' children have done some pretty cool things because Aunt Sandi pulled some strings. Once, a niece and nephew were the children picked from the audience to star in the pre-intermission extravaganza at a performance of Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus. 
One niece went backstage at a Garth Brooks concert. Her brother met Brooks & Dunn.
Another has gone to movie screenings with me and another owns a personal message from Tigger himself, telling him to mind his parents and say his prayers before bed.
Every member of my family has personalized autographs from various movie stars, rock bands and other celebrities. They own merchandise from movies and concerts and have spent time sitting with me watching concerts while I write the review on my laptop. They were always cool about walking slower when I used a cane or to help carry things for me.
I love all my nieces and nephews, whether they're related to me or not and I cherish it when the one's who are not really related call me "Aunt Sandi" anyway. 
I was able to do a lot of traveling and bring home cool things because I didn't have children of my own to worry about at home. Yes, many times it was a struggle to get myself home, but once there I didn't have to take care of a child before collapsing myself.
Still, I see parents with their children, creating memories and a tight-knit family while I watch on the outside.
My first husband remarried and now has children of his own. I am happy for him and enjoy hearing him tell me all about them. It's funny to me, but he tells them stories about me and the things I've done, so in a very modern way, I'm a member of their family too.
Now that I'm well past the age to have children, do I regret not doing it? Truthfully, not at all.
When I feel depressed I wonder what will happen to me when I can't take care of myself, if I will wind up in a nursing home, the lady with no visitors.
Better days I know I may wind up in a nursing home, but all my nieces and nephews will come visit because of all the stories I have about things I've done, and maybe because they consider me family.
Every person with any form of this disease will make this decision on their own, or it's already out of their hands. If  they got sick after they had children, it's a moot point.
I know for many women, having children is an essential part of their lives and they are heroes to me, sick or well. I'm just glad so many of them have let me borrow their children from time to time so I could be "Aunt Sandi."

I've Got Friends in Low Places

Like millions of other fans, I love Garth Brooks.
His career choices put his family first, which is a rare thing. He retired, moved back to Oklahoma, lives in a Tulsa suburb where he shared raising his daughters with his former wife, marrying country star Trisha Yearwood in the meantime.
While we both worked, I would do phone interviews that wound up in teasing and laughter.
He invited my husband and I to his big party to celebrate selling 100 million records, thank his song writers and everyone who had helped him get where he was.
I got a hand-written invitation to come to the party as a guest, not a reporter. My husband and I made the trip to Nashville where hubby wore a tuxedo and I wore a ball gown. We walked down a real red carpet, complete with photographers snapping pictures.
We each got a crystal memento of the evening.
Garth called me on my 50th birthday. I didn't know he knew when my birthday was.
After I left the paper, I pretty must dropped off the face of the earth for five years while my body and mind did some serious healing.
I started freelancing early in 2012, mostly for the newspaper I had worked for.
After the tornadoes hit May 19-20, I was busy writing about the storms, and then the company I work for sent me an e-mail asking me to call a number if I wanted to review the Blake Shelton benefit concert.
It was USA Today.
I was thrilled. My byline would be seen nationwide.
They e-mailed me again and asked if I would review Toby Keith's Twister Relief Concert in the football stadium at the University of Oklahoma.
I couldn't say yes fast enough.
Besides Toby, performers included Carrie Underwood, Willie Nelson, Ronnie Dunn, Mel Tillis, John Anderson, Wade Hayes, Kellie Coffey, the only rocker  Sammy Hagar and my old friend, Garth Brooks with his wife, whom he calls Miss Yearwood.
For the show, all reporters were kept in the room the Oklahoma Sooners football team have their meetings. The artists were brought in to talk to us and we watched the show on big screen TVs with a direct sound feed from the stage.
Garth was at the show long enough to play. He had to return to Las Vegas to play a sold-out show that night.
I'll admit I've changed a lot in the last five years but when I looked Garth in the eye and asked a question, he answered it without recognizing me. I was a little hurt, but not surprised.
As his time with the press wound down, I walked up to Garth's publicist and asked her if I could say "Hi" to him. She smiled, and said yes.
As he walked by, she said his name and then, "Sandi would like to say hi."
He looked at me and the second the recognized me he grabbed me in the biggest bear hug and kissed my cheek. He couldn't believe I was there.
"I wondered how you were."
About this time his wife hugged me too, kissed my other cheek and said she was glad to see me too.
All of this happened in front of the entire press corps. If they didn't know who I was before then, they knew I was something special after that.
I knew I was something special after that.
I worked 14 hours that day, had one-on-one interviews with Ronnie Dunn and Sammy Hagar, which I'll write about later, but it did more for my self worth than anything has for years.
A long review ran on USA today's site on Sunday and a shorter version ran in Monday's Life section.
If you'd like to donate to , please go to www.unitedwayokc.org

I tell stories for a living, and here are a few really good ones

I love interviewing people.
I enjoy asking them about things they've done and why they did them or how they did them and hear their stories.
Everyone has a few great stories, and I've got a few myself.
I told my reunion story with Garth Brooks at Toby Keith's Twister Benefit and I mentioned two other music stars I talked to that day.
Both Ronnie Dunn (formerly half of Brooks & Dunn and the one who sings on "My Maria") and Sammy Hagar (the Red Rocker himself, who also did time in Van Halen in the "Van Hagar" days) and I go way back and I love them both the way you love your mischievous friends.
Ronnie Dunn spent a lot of his life in Tulsa and we both were brought up strict Southern Baptists. We both discovered we had to make a choice between what we wanted to do and what the church wanted us to do and we both chose to leave our respective churches.
But that's where Ronnie learned to sing.
Actually, that's where most of the famous music stars from Oklahoma learn to sing -- in church. If it's in any water at all, it must be Holy Water.
I sat in a tiny room with Ronnie and as we talked (me writing furiously, him playing with my recorder) we both watched Garth thrill the sold-out show of 61,000 with his amazing stage presence and those songs.
Neither Ronnie nor I wanted to miss Garth playing a rare Oklahoma show and his very first in Norman.
Ronnie told me he sent two songs he wrote to Sammy Hagar for Sammy's upcoming duets album, and they did one, "Bad to Ford and Chevrolets." Ronnie has his own record label now, named after the statue of Willie Nelson he received in Texas for his songwriting talents. (Little Will-E/Warner Bros.). His new album "Kiss You There."
He's such a laid back guy that his humor can surprise you and you find yourself laughing as he slyly slides a joke into an answer.
Sammy Hagar now, is all rocker. I've had dinner with him and the members of Van Halen when they were on tour (I have the pictures somewhere but there's the problem of my mistake husband being in them that causes me to want to hurl when I seen them).
Before I left the paper, I had a one-on-one interview with Sammy in his dressing room before a sold-out show at an outdoor venue. I walked in to happy chaos. His wife was in there with their baby in a stroller. As Sammy and I sat down, she poured me some of Sammy new (then) Cabo Wabo Tequila in a WINE GLASS and Sammy cheerfully told me to just sip it. I asked where the lemon and salt was and he was shocked. I learned all about good tequila and that it can be sipped just like wine.
It could. It was wonderful.
So I did my interview with a drink in my hand (that's news to the paper, believe me) and we parted by me giving him one of my husband's custom guitar picks, and he pulled one out of his guitar to give back.
This time, I walked into another scene of organized chaos, but this time Sammy and his band were singing in full voice. I stood and listened, not recognizing the song but did know his wife and his much bigger daughter, who was in the floor coloring.
Sammy saw me and the singing stopped.
"I'm debuting a song today and we've never played it live," he explained. "I'm terrified."
The song was Ronnie Dunn's "Bad on Fords and Chevrolets" which Sammy said he de-countrified before they recorded the duet.
I assured him it sounded great and we sat on a sofa. I reminded him of the last time we met and the glass of tequila, and he laughed and said those days were over.
"I'm getting gout. Can you believe it? Gout? That's a form of arthritis you know."
Oh I do know. Before he starting talking about uric acid levels and dietary restrictions, I calmly told him I understood.
"I have RA, lupus, fibromyalgia and my spine looks like a toddler built it," I wisecracked, but it worked.
We talked about his new album "Sammy Hagar and Friends" due out Sept. 13. He duets "Margaritaville" with Toby Keith, whom he befriended on Toby's frequent trips to Cabo San Lucas and playing at Sammy club there.
It explained why Sammy was there.
We finished our interview with hugs and kisses (I got kissed on the hand when I arrived and on the cheek when I left).
The new tune is good. It's got a great hook and is a lot of fun, a lot like Sammy.
Much later in the evening, long after Toby had left the stage and the last firework explosion echo was long gone, I was wrapping up writing my story when a man walked in with a bunch of paper cups.
They were samples of Toby Keith's brand of Mescal, "Wild Shot."
Thinking, echoes of old days with Sammy, I snagged a glass. It was like the most tart lemonade you'll ever have but it was good, and a perfect way to end a memorable day.
And, it gave me some great stories to tell.

Stress triggers long-fogotten problems

Sandi's years as a newspaper reporter return to haunt her

Doctors have told me most of my life to keep my stress level low.
I have sincerely tried. I've taken classes, I know all the tricks to calm myself.
Sometimes our best efforts are not enough.
Anyone who chooses to be a news reporter of any kind must realize early that when disasters happen, regular assignments go out the window, or in some cases,  gone with the wind.
I was fortunate for years. I wrote about movies, music, movie stars. The funerals I covered and obituaries I wrote were for celebrities. I traveled a lot and wrote about the fun things I did.
Those times were forcibly removed at 9:02 a.m. April 19, 1995 when the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building was destroyed in a terrorist bombing. The blast from that truck of explosives left a huge disaster area and people lost their lives in other buildings besides the federal one. Still, everyone's heart stopped when we realized the day care center in the federal building was hit and children were among the dead and wounded.
You may recall the photograph of a fireman carrying the body of a little girl. I saw that photo the day it was taken.
I made it all the way home before I broke down in tears, repeating "She had on yellow socks."
Because I write fast and describe scenes well, I talked to victims and first responders. I wrote about the secondary disasters -- the cancellation of major events, the implosion of companies who lost their revenue streams.
Everyone worked 12 to 18 hours a day. We ate catered food at our desks, we wrote feature stories about each casualty, putting a face on each person who died. We all cried as we wrote story after story.
My friends had a 10 month old grandson in the day care center. He was identified by DNA with two other babies. I wrote his feature story and it is still the hardest story I ever wrote.
The bombing was the birth of "The Oklahoma Standard." When one of us is hurt, all of us hurt and we will help anyone who needs it until they don't any more.
I saw a therapist after the bombing. All the reporters did. She taught me so much and helped me cope with stress of all kinds.
We will skip the 1999 tornado for now because I was so sick by then I don't remember much about covering it.
I am well enough now that when the tornadoes that ripped through the Oklahoma City metro area Sunday and Monday I was asked to work for the paper, and thinking I could handle it, I said yes.
I didn't take the first hint I was going to have problems. When I heard children had died, I started crying.
I was covering volunteer efforts from several angles. So many people came to the disaster areas with supplies and to volunteer they had to be turned away. Supply depots were created and there are lists for people to sign to volunteer in the next few weeks and months. I interviewed a man who has volunteered for one charity for 30 years and works with assembly lines to build and fill boxes.
I wrote two stories Friday and turned them in. I thought I was doing great until I went to dinner with a friend Saturday night.
I could not remember a single story I had written that week. I drew a complete blank. It was like I had never done them. I started stressing out, my energy level tanked and I rushed home to look them up on my computer. One story had run, one ran Sunday and two more were waiting to go.
I spent the next day in my pajamas, in bed, watching anything but news. I secretly hope the paper won't call with more projects for a few days, but if they do, I'll say "Yes," because the Oklahoma Standard lives in me too.
I would like to thank every single person who works at Creaky Joints for letting me write about this now, and all of you who clicked "Like" when you found out I was safe. You cannot imagine what that did for me. I owe all of you a hug.

Virus Roulette: Doctor's office visits always a gamble — The Global Healthy Living Foundation

Virus Roulette: Doctor's office visits always a gamble — The Global Healthy Living Foundation