THURSDAY THOUGHTS: BEFORE ONE CHRISTMAS

Hindsight really is 20/20. 

On Monday and Tuesday, I would not have been able to convince anyone that I wasn't getting illegal collagen injections from a quack, back-alley plastic surgeon. 

Was it really a toothpaste allergy? (I did try the super whitening sample for an entire week on the cruise.

How did I ignore the tingling? Did I think it was supposed to do that?) 

I did kind of overdo it Monday afternoon with the baking soda and peroxide, and it wasn't good 'ol, tried and true Arm and Hammer, either) 

Cosmetics? Was it the lipstick? Didn't I remember the unusual stinging when I applied the gloss last week? 

Was it the peanuts I roasted? 

Was it the costume jewelry? 

Have I been eating right? Am I skipping vitamins? 

I was grasping for straws.  

I threw away lipsticks and glosses, my toothbrush, and was glad to find some hydrocortisone cream. 

It wasn't pretty...not at all. 

Then I took to the internet and scared myself to death reading about my symptoms, looking at images, and ruling out the myriad of things that could be ailing me.

"I look like a duck", I lamented to my daughter as she walked away to keep me from seeing the look on her face. No. That would be an insult to ducks everywhere. I apologize to my fine-feathered friends. 

She laughed. I didn't blame her. If my top lip didn't feel as if a paperweight had been surgically attached, I would have laughed, too. 

I was talking like Mushmouth. 

Singing would be out of the question, I imagined. 

As I drifted off in a Benadryl-induced sleep on Monday, I told myself I might have to sit out the event on Tuesday night. 

I missed rehearsal Monday night. 

The Benadryl knocked me out. 

I woke up at 3 in the morning. 

My phone displayed all of the calls I'd missed as I slept.  

"I think I may be able to pull it off if I "eat" the microphone" I told myself as I drifted back to sleep. 

When I woke up on Tuesday morning, I looked as if I'd sparred with a heavyweight, but my daughter reassured me that I looked a lot better than I did the day before. She's an honest young woman, so I believed her. Her words saved me a hesitant trip to the mirror, but I could see my lips just fine without it.

 

I profusely thanked God for ice, Benadryl, and water. When she finally reached me by phone, my friend Darlene suggested cold compresses and lots of liquids. "You've got to flush it out" she advised. I found a Huskies ice pack in the freezer, and wrapped it in paper towels and rested it on my lips, but it obscured my entire face. It occurred to me that I needed to do that in moderation, too. "No sense exchanging the gross swelling for frostbite", I thought....

As I felt my face ballooning, I think I repented for everything I'd ever done wrong in my entire life. I think I got saved all over again, too...."If my lips have harmed anyone in any way, I am truly, truly sorry, Lord. I need my lips, dear, sweet, Jesus. These lips right here? These lips right here are not, NOT television camera-ready. They're not breakfast, lunch, or dinner ready either. Can you help a sistah out?" 

I was mad at the devil, but he wasn't the one who told me to put a hunk of no-name baking soda in my mouth, chase it with generic, undiluted hydrogen peroxide, and brush vigorously.

Rhonda picked me up around 2:30, and we headed to The Howard Theater for a 3PM soundcheck. I'd decided that I would just hide myself up on a riser...way in the back... behind a Christmas tree or something. 
When we got there, it occurred to me to ask, "What song are we singing?" When they all said "Angels! Didn't you know? That's what we rehearsed last night!", I waited for someone to shout "April Fool!" 

That didn't happen. 

I had convinced myself we would be singing something from the "Rejoice" CD since it was a Christmas program we were taping. 

ANGELS? Oh, dear Lord! Okay...Where's my little Maurette? Is Maurette coming? I was going to have to be in full view and there was no way I could dodge cameras. Maurette wasn't going to be there, so I would be singing her verse, too...Myriam, a friend and one of the production staff came over to me and immediately started moving hair out of my face. "I want to see your face!" she scolded...As the tech handed me my microphone, he said, "You seem a bit overwhelmed. Relax. It'll be okay". 

Everyone kept assuring me that the swelling wasn't as bad as I thought. Makeup artist Fred Sanders did a wonderful, delicate job on most of my face--but I decided I'd tackle my slowly deflating lips myself.

(It's funny. As I age, the allergies my Mom had, seem to be visiting me. 

I have to get rid of jewelry that has even a trace of nickel. 

I guess the next thing I’ll be doing is using dye/ perfume free products, and tossing out lots of makeup.  I will enter the world of Almay, and all other things hypoallergenic, I suppose, but I have to applaud Cover Girl for the collaboration with Olay--and some old school castor oil saved the day, too...lol

There was a lot of "hurry up and wait" that night, but as I look back I'm thankful for all of the delays, and lineup changes. Iyanla sensed how tired we were as we waited backstage, smiled, and said “Fix your face, Beloved”. It was the equivalent to being told, “Stand up straight”. 

By the time we did take the stage, thanks to the Benadryl, I was looking a little closer to human--but I did eat that mike just the same---just in case.

Drummer, Danny McCrimmon was seated in the balcony, and snapped a few photos. I was glad that the moment was captured. I'd been a fan of Iyanla Vanzant since the "Starting Over" series, and there she was being maternally empowering and encouraging...It really was special---allergic reaction and all.

There are always lessons to learn. 

Richard offered a good one--"Stick to the tried and true". Ms. Vanzant offered a comical, but on-time one as well, that promoted patience, graciousness, and humility. I’ll never forget it.