2022: The Not-so-Wacky Wiegler Year in Review

How can I describe my 2022? It was one of the worst years of my life, yet interspersed with moments of beauty and hope. I gave up Twitter and took up whiskey, which I had not drunk in my fifties!

January I was enjoying tutoring one of my favorite students ever. This young man inspired me to teach Shakespeare, which I had not done before. I also ghostwrote an article on healthcare disparities during the pandemic for a Black doctor. It broke my heart to hear he wasn't well himself. The weather was nasty, but these experiences helped the year get off to a rewarding start.

February: I finished off a round of press releases for a Hispanic client, which was muy interesante. There would be communication challenges, though, and down the road we'd part ways. I fell apart when I heard Tom Brady was retiring, but was wildly relieved when he changed his mind a few months later. (I even made a video of my tearful self yearning for him to return!)

March:

It is excrutiating to write this because I am still grieving and wrestling with other emotions (more t/k in September). I adopted this black and white beauty on a whim, after reading about her on an animal shelter comments thread. Her previous owner had called her "Oreo" but I had had my heart set on "Winny". For the first week she never came out of the boxspring. When she finally did, she was all my heart could ask for...except strangely, I soon realized she did not want to be petted.

April: I went to Hartford and had such a fun day! Having been ultra careful during the pandemic, it was a brave choice to face the (mostly) maskless and speak on behalf of my alma mater, King's College London. We met at a hotel and I talked about my experience as an international student. There were only a handful of students and parents there, but it was delightful to meet them. I also enjoyed hearing from an alum my age who had majored in the Sciences. En route to the hotel, I soaked in the gorgeous spring day in Bushnell Park. This was also the month the inimitable Dr. Fauci spoke to my Press Club, and one of my questions, about balancing risk to employees in forcing hybrid work, was asked.

May: I continued job searching, not finding success in education. I had a handful of journalism job interviews.

June: Cannot recall much. But in this as every month, I have continued my fight to get to the bottom of my dear mother (Mary) Kathleen Leonard's death. A doctor told me he disputes the proximate cause of death listed in the autopsy. Many lawyers have refused the case. The Texas Medical Association long ago claimed the heart attack was primary cause of death, but my anonymous doctor says PEA was, the heart attack secondary. (I need a proper cardiologist to get Dr. Myatt's notes and images to review. This seems only possible if he is deposed.) Baylor, Scott and White no longer respond. Doctors who treated Mom do not respond, not even her primary care physician, whom I spoke to and went to great pains to mail records to. My own belief is during the insertion or removal of the catheter, a vein was nicked. At Mom's age (79) it might not have even taken much. My issue with Dr. Philip Myatt is the obfuscation of her death. The weekend after she died, his office announced they were shuttering their Facebook page. When I wrote that my mom had died there, a staffer said she knew, how horrible everyone felt, "especially Dr. Myatt". I would write to the American Medical Association later this year, requesting that an independent cardiologist review her case. More in 2023.

July: Ditto. Just lots of applications, some freelance work on Guru. Continued tutoring the aforementioned boy. I think we read "Julius Caesar" about this time, a highlight of my tutoring career. I also had him watch the film with Marlon Brando as Marc Anthony. Such a good movie!

August: My birthday month. I celebrated at my favorite local Mexican restaurant, Acapulco. They placed a huge sombrero on my head and sang to me. Winny attacked me for the first time at the end of the month. She velcroed herself to the backs of my legs. I couldn't figure out what was going on. Broke my heart.

September: Winny attacked again, causing horrible deep scratches to add to the previous ones. I was onto her, so at least only gave her one leg to attack as I fled to the bathroom. She growled outside the door. Later in the month I'd sleep in the bathtub, fearful of another attack. (It still saddens me to remember her light scratches on the bathroom door around 5 a.m.) Finally, September 21, after she lunged at me simply for rustling the bed sheets, I knew I had to call Animal Control. To this day, my therapist has to remind me that I made the best choice I could. My APRN, a mother and cat owner, has been especially kind.

If I had been rich, I could have found a specialist to take her somewhere, maybe an animal sanctuary. I'd visited my local vet countless times, and the kind staff saw my fear and anguish. After the second attack, I was told they would not be able to see her. Winny had progressed from standoffish and feisty to a miniature bobcat. My pain was somewhat ameliorated Aug. 31 when the mighty and luminous Serena Williams beat Anett Kontaveit at the U.S. Open. Thank goodness for sports, comedy and movies. (This month I also started physical therapy because I had overdone it imitating Nick Kyrgios with my serve.)

October: I was heartbroken, guilt-ridden and worn out but found joy in our glorious autumn foliage here in Connecticut and attending "The Daily Show with Trevor Noah" a second time. I will really miss seeing him. In May 2017, I had gotten to ask him a question "between the scenes" (back before TDS was uploading onto Youtube). How did he like interviewing Obama? He sweetly said he had been nervous, then lapsed into his dead-on O impression: "Uhh, Trevor... Don't be nervous!" When Trevor had asked the former president his plans, Obama quipped: "When I'm out, I'm out!"

November: The continuing job search was wearing on me, but I was thrilled to substitute teach elementary-age kids, if only for two days. A little girl gave me a picture she drew of the sun rising against a rainbow. Finished physical therapy with my wonderful provider at Yale. She had been more than a physical therapist, seeing me through the heartache and terror of the Winny months. Read Trevor Noah's 2016 autobiography, "Born a Crime", about growing up in both Apartheid and post-Apartheid South Africa. He is not only witty and handsome, but deep and profound. His life was so hard, he had to endure both seeing his mother shot in the head by his stepfather and being forced to eat worms.

December: I have been hired to sub in New Haven, but will start in January. I have to clear out my 5x10 storage unit all alone, and on the heels of my mystery illness (wasn't Covid) it is tough.On the plus side, I have found many treasures such as notes and cards from Mom and a message from my sweet boss Blayne at the Captioning Institute in Burbank, where I had worked from 1995-96. He regaled my "Friends" spec, just as he had my acting in the "Melrose Place" parody I had directed at work. I am now 70 pages into my current script, based on my Facetiming Mom from London.

On Christmas Eve, after a cold day full of cleaning and Red Hots, out of the blue, Andy Cohen picked me for his IG Live. So fun! We discussed my being half Jewish, to which he quipped "I'm all Jewish". I told him "I'm a little bit country and a little bit matzo ball," and he said, "Hey! That's good!" (It was a line I first thought of on a beach with my ex.)

Happy New Year to all?