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Pris Campbell

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Stubborn as a Mule

4 Comments / Speaking Up /

I remember my mother referring to me from early childhood on as “stubborn as a mule.” That trait has held me in good stead when dealing with authority figures or doctors who have tried to talk me into doing something I knew wasn’t right.

The event I remember most, though, comes from my grammar school years. A girl in our class was “retarded” (the term used then), as was her mother. She came to school with her hair uncombed, clothes dirty, and wearing no underpants. Each day at recess a group of boys encouraged her to go on the hanging bars so they could run under and look up her dress.

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The Scales Fall Off

2 Comments / Racism /
I grew up in a tiny town the Deep South in the 1950s. Racism was everywhere, but I was too young to know there was another way. “Colored people” (the term used then) had their own waiting room at the doctor’s office. They had a separate entrance and sat in the balcony at the movie theater. They were never seen downtown; it was an unwritten rule that blacks could only be downtown if they were performing menial labor there.
The “colored people” all lived in one section of town, where they became “n*****s” when drunks drove through, throwing bottles and cans and laughing. I’m grateful I was taught that that was very wrong.

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The Spanish Flu Hits Home

4 Comments / Contagion /
I’m very sensitive to contagious illness; I have an almost nonfunctioning immune system. Even before the coronavirus, I wore masks on my limited outings and washed my hands often, telling people who were sick to come see me when well. But that’s not the story I want to tell.
At age twelve, my mother was hit by the flu of 1918, but recovered. When the same flu hit even more ferociously in 1919, she was the only one well in the home, due to her immunity. Her parents, grandparents and the three of her five sibs still living there all got sick.

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Together Through the Rainbow Bridge

3 Comments / visuals /

Pris Campbell

About the artist:

Pris Campbell has created graphics for haiga and has twice been published in Pulse. She was a clinical psychologist before ME/CFS rended her housebound. She makes her home with her husband in the Greater West Palm Beach area.

About the artwork:

“This is the last morning my husband spent with our cat before Spike crossed the Rainbow Bridge. The death of a beloved pet is like losing a member of the family, so this was a heartbreaking time.”

Visuals editor:

Sara Kohrt

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Turning to the New

21 Comments / A Fresh Start /

A former clinical psychologist and sailor, I’ve had myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome (ME/CFS) since 1990 and have been almost completely housebound, with both neurological and immune system symptoms, all of that time. ME/CFS is a serious, long-term illness that affects many body systems. While each year has come with more than its share of difficulties, this past year was loaded with extensive dental work, back problems, and extended voice loss (I also have muscle tension dysphonia).

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A Different Kind of Holiday

Leave a Comment / Holidays /
Ever since I was hit hard with myalgic encephalopathy/chronic fatique syndrome, the illness so eloquently portrayed by Jen Brea in the film Unrest, the holidays have been very different for me. Gone are the holiday gatherings, the caroling with friends and neighbors, the concerts. My body is too weak to attend any of these festivities, and the sound makes me dizzy within a very short time. I’ve been mostly housebound these 27 years.

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Ocean Memories

Ocean Memories

7 Comments / visuals /
Pris Campbell 
About the artist: 
Formerly a clinical psychologist, Pris Campbell was sidelined by ME/CFS (myalgic encephalopathy/chronic fatigue syndrome) in 1990. “I now write poetry and create graphics in this much quieter life, publishing eight books of poetry through small-press publishers. I live in the Greater West Palm Beach area with my husband and two cats.”
About the artwork:
“As former sailor, I find the sea a place of joy and healing. A photograph of a couple strolling the beach, taken during a weekend in Daytona, became not just this walk, in my mind, but multiple walks, the energy from previous ones accompanying them, enhancing their experience.”
Visuals editor:

Sara Kohrt

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cousins campbell

Cousins

Leave a Comment / visuals /

Pris Campbell

About the artist: 

Pris Campbell has published free verse and short forms (haiku and tanka) in numerous journals over the years. She developed her love of graphic manipulation of images through creating haiga–haiku combined with an image. One of her graphics was used for the cover of the poetry journal Red-headed Stepchild. A former clinical psychologist sidelined by myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome (ME/CFS) since 1990, she makes her home in greater West Palm Beach, Florida.

About the artwork:

“This is a modified image of my two first cousins in childhood, with me in the middle. I created the image this way to express how memories of those we’ve loved and lost still travel with us. Both died in their sixties of sudden heart attacks. They were like sister and brother to me, and I loved them dearly. Their deaths were a huge loss, and I still smile to think

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A Call In The Night

1 Comment / Getting the News /

I married him in-between tours of Vietnam as a Navy junior officer, and even though we divorced after eight years, we stayed in touch and saw each other over the years.

When he emailed two years ago to say he’d been diagnosed with esophogeal cancer, I was concerned. But after radiation and an operation he wrote that his first two scans were good, and the doctors were hopeful. He was always a strong man and had been healthy, so I relaxed my fear somewhat.

When I wrote him a few months later, his reply was strange. He just said, “A lot is going on here,” and didn’t sign the note. He still worked as a lawyer, so I thought he was doing well and busy again. But no followup note came.

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Battlefield

11 Comments / Poems /

Pris Campbell

His heart
is a battlefield
of scar tissue
and hardened walls
from radiation.
So certain the tumor
in his throat would take him
to his knees, wrench his life away,
they brought forth
the beast…that fairy tale
of modern medicine
gone wrong…and now

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