Looking To The Future

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20 years have gone by as quickly as a wave in the ocean. I drifted into the world of TV to help a friend and ended up wading my way through nearly every position that exists. After keeping myself afloat in the business by being a jack of all trades, I finally found my calling as a writer.

I wanted the world to hear my voice through words. So, I expressed myself through my stories, show segments and specials. For two decades, I recorded and relayed information on nearly every major world event for one company. Today, as I arrived home my 20 year statue was waiting.

I don’t have another 20 years of snowstorms, missed holidays and long days of breaking news coverage in me. This is not because I’m not physically up to the task. I don’t want to miss out on the other parts of my life anymore. I also have more to say that won’t fit in a 20 second voiceover.

Yet, I look back on my career with fondness and I wonder what’s next for me? How will I make my mark on the world next and make a difference? I ask myself this a lot and as soon as I have the answer I will wade into my next 20 year adventure.

#journalism #tvnews #careerwomen #disability #chronicillness #autoimmunedisease #invisibleillness

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In The Limelight

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I’m used to being behind the camera not in front of it. I write the news but I infrequently make it. But, my memoir Misdiagnosed: The Search For Dr. House inspired organizers of Autoimmune Walk NYC to invite me to be the main speaker and lead walkers on a one mile trek.

Despite a terrible cold, I delivered an address which was captured on camera. This material was later turned into an anchor VO Sot Vo which was slated to air on WABC-TV, the station where I’ve worked for years. My co-worker Jay sent a text to let me know exactly what time I’d be able to view it. So, my friend Kiada and I fought sleep to see it. She set an alarm to make sure we’d be awake at 11:49.

Kiada’s alarm sounded a two minute warning. I sat up, turned to channel 7 then I braced myself to hear and see myself on my 42″ screen. Right on time, Sandra Bookman read the copy about the walk then paused for sound from my speech.

I was stunned by my appearance. My face appeared puffy, my waist seemed thick and my hair was wild. The tone of my voice was deeper than usual too. But, I was standing tall. I was smiling and I was confident. I spoke with authority and the message I wanted to share was delivered. I was able to step into the limelight to raise awareness for people struggling with the more than 100 autoimmune diseases; to explain the pain, challenges, frustration and triumphs of living with a chronic illness in a way anyone could understand. I was triumphant.

So I proudly shared this clip on my Instagram, Facebook and Twitter accounts. Here is a link:

 

#invisibleillness #chronicpain #chronicillness #autoimmunedisease #igg4 #disability #abc7ny #autoimmunewalk #eyewitnessnews #tvnews #nyc #RitaWilson

Like Family

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I work a lot. Sometimes it feels like I spend most of my time at work and less and less time at home. Over the course of nearly two decades, I’ve passed my time in the office with people who are now like family to me.

We fight about politics, debate the merit of stories, and discuss our assignments. We mourn deaths. We eat snack, tell jokes, and tease one another. We applaud achievements and support each other’s causes. We celebrate births, weddings, and birthdays. And, tonight we gathered to wish Lori Stokes well on her next endeavor.

We are sad to see her leave our newsroom. But, to everyone smiling in the selfies, her happiness is paramount.

So, She may not be there when we got to the office on Monday. She may not be on the air in her usual anchor chair either. But, she will always be like family.

 

A Career To Remember

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I was in the middle of doing a cut sheet for an insert on Charles Schumer’s fight to restore mandatory sleep apnea testing for Metro-North engineers and writing and editing Vo Sot Vo about the British model who claimed to be kidnapped when the camera crew arrived. I’d reluctantly agreed to take a photo and provide an on camera quote as part of my company’s celebration of my 20 year anniversary.

I’d chosen a job behind the scenes decades ago, in part, because I can’t stand the sound of my voice on tape and doing hair and makeup aren’t things I enjoy doing. Yet, I flat ironed my hair for the occasion. Unfortunately, the moisture in the air took out the curls and made it puff up.

I placed my cane behind the assignment desk and waited for instructions. When the lights were turned on and the camera was pointing towards me I almost decided to cancel.

“How does it feel knowing you’ve been here for 20 years?” The producer asked.

I paused and and replied, “Do you really want me to answer that?”

“I can ask you something else,” the coordinator said. “What’s the best part of spending 20 years with the company?”

I responded as I looked around my corner of the newsroom at all the faces. “I’ll answer.”

I thought for a second and said, “The years have flown by. It’s hard to believe it’s been 20 years; most of my adult working life. I’ve had steady work for the last two decades covering world events. I’ve written about fires, births, deaths, wars, trials and elections. I’ve learned about budgets, foreign affairs and health breakthroughs. But, the job isn’t what I’ll remember most; the people are unforgettable. The people make the long hours, the irritation, and the writer’s cramps worth it. I didn’t intend to be in the news business this long now I don’t know what I’ll do next.”

#tvnews #journalism #disability #chronicillness #chronicpain #autoimmunedisease #nomakeup #anniversary

Get It Off My Chest

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I’m don’t mince words often and I’m rarely out of them. If I have something to say I get it off my chest right. But, I was swamped at work when the results of my breast ultrasound came in. I glanced down at my iPhone 7 while the message from my Ob/GYN was being transcribed. It said, “your results are in. The radiologist wants to see you again in six months. I’m preparing your referral. Thank you.” Immediately, all words escaped me.

I saw the four hypoechoic nodules with my own eyes during my scan. They were the dark circles the technician paused over, measured, snapped images of then refused to discuss with me. Yet, I kept hoping I was wrong; that they were so insignificant they didn’t warrant being mentioned in a report.

I immediately signed on to the Lenox Hill Radiology portal and pulled up my report. It described each lump by height and width, as well distance from my nipple. There were two in the left breast and two in the right. On the bottom of the report, the radiologist said they were likely benign but recommended monitoring.

“Likely? What the hell does that mean? I’m supposed to wait six months to find out if some of kind of cancer is present? It may be okay with the doctor to watch and wait, but can I live with that? At least when Lymphoma was suspected I had the six surgical biopsies and I knew what I was facing. I may need a second option or a biopsy just to be sure,” I mumbled to myself. “I’ve spent most of my life since puberty trying to hide my double chest. Now, if the images change they could be gone. I don’t have much of a figure without them. I think I’d actually be sad to see my breasts go.”

I grabbed my cane, subtly rose from my chair and walked over to the printer to collect a copy of the radiology report. I didn’t tell anyone around me what was bugging me. I couldn’t figure out what to say so I said nothing other to answer questions about the stories we were writing for 5:30 and 6 pm newscasts. I completed my work and I laughed just like everyone instead of crying. And, on the way I home I wrote down my feeling to get them out.

#ultrasound #mammogram #chronicillness #chronicpain #disability #lymphoma #tvnews #radiology

View From The Rooftop

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I couldn’t see the bustling NYC streets from the rooftop at the Empire Hotel, which is near Lincoln Center. I heard the wind whipping, glass clinking, laughter and friendly conversation. I’d ventured just blocks from my workplace after a stressful day writing more stories than I thought I could complete to celebrate Ashley’s 30th birthday.

She’d arranged her own party at the bar on top of a hotel I’d stayed at countless times to cover the news of the day: Superstorm Sandy, snow storms, etc. But, I’d never gone up to that floor before. Today a ventured to a “new place” to cheer Ashley.

A talented newcomer to the TV station, Ashley quickly became a friend. Her brains and talent are impossible to ignore. She also genuinely cares about the service we provide to the public and goes above and beyond to deliver it even when she’s not compensated enough for her efforts.

I didn’t notice the hours flew by as I talked to other co-workers who often don’t get time to get to know from 9:30 to 6:15. I learned and I shared. I soaked up the energy from the endless party. I didn’t think once about my cane, my evening pills, the pain in my hips or my fatigue. I was simply a New Yorker out having fun. Ashley inadvertently gave me a gift at her birthday party. Thank you Ashley. Happy Birthday.

#birthday #lincolncenter #empirehotel #nyc #tvnews #disability #chronicillness #chronicpain #autoimmunedisease

Half My Life Recording History

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“Can everyone gather in the middle of the newsroom?” My boss said. 

I cringed.

I don’t have time for this, I thought.

I was looking for new video of a stranger punching a bicyclist in the face when my boss called out. I was also waiting for the Belmar drowning package and looking at an update about the jury in Cosby Sex Assault trial. 

“Nika!”

I didn’t know who called my name but I figured I’d better take a few moments away from my desk to see what was going on.

As my boss strolled towards me, I realized all eyes were on me. 

In a panic, I turned to walk away. When I did, I hit a cup in my co-worked Bryan’s hand. Soda covered his jacket and t-shirt. I broke away from the gathering, limped over to to my desk as fast as my cane would carry me, and grabbed napkins.

“Where are you going?” 

“I don’t want to leave Bryan soggy,” I replied. 

Seconds later, I felt a hand on the small of my back.

“Nika has been at ABC 20 years,” my boss said as she extended her hand forward. It contained a pin.

Wow, I’ve come to this place for nearly half my life, I thought, as she continued speaking.

“She always comes in with a smile on her face even though she’s been through so much. She deserves to be here. She deserves to be on this Earth.”

Her words choked me up. They made me think about all I survived in my years there; it’s enough to fill a medical journal. In fact, I had one of my two mini strokes when i was sitting at my desk.

Despite my health battles, I showed up to give a voice to other people’s pain, as well as the struggles and triumphs of the world. 

Through my medical strife, my job was a refuge. For eight or nine hours a day, I didn’t fret about the tests, the pain, the pills, the surgeries or the bills. I didn’t worry about my mortality. 

As I made my way back to my desk, there were hugs and shouts of congratulations. Sometimes I said thank you. Other times, I said, “is this really good news? I still have another two decades to retirement.”

I was uncomfortable with the attention. But, I was glad anyone cared that I reached a milestone that I wasn’t sure I’d live to see 20 years ago.