Many pathways, some leading to light, many to darkness, the emergence of self from the inflicted afflictions to the Infinite Light. My journey from living to death.
Mother and Child
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Held. Backyard of house on Long Island. Merrick Road. This is a time of crazy making. First she loves me. Then she hates me. There is no where to turn. Except inwards. So, I do.
I managed to drive myself into a full-blown panic attack. Mati is not eating, I went out to some neighbors to find an IV set, nobody had one, had one that was used at home, went back, Mati was outside, she entered not before I tried to give her something to eat, she took one bite and started to meow. I went into panic, administered her IV subq, she went outside again. In between preparations for Shabbat, everything from clothes, to salad, to cholent, to making her a slurry, to preparing colloidal silver to actually sewing together 3 blankets I managed to score at a thrift shop so that when people come over to sit on my sofa that I made, that it would be more comfortable. I sewed them together then folded everything and sewed it into half so the cushioning would be more. Now my heart is beating so fast. I tried everything from minerals to wine to weed, to breathing to not thinking now will pray. Shabbat Shalom of healing
Two trips to the ER in less than 7 days. Things are not what they could be. It could be better. It could be sublime. It could be paradise. It could be a whole new world. Like looking down at a departed body, I am that soul. In sorrow I find myself in this state. It could be so many things and then it could all be chalked down to my parathyroid. Or not. For every 10 doctors seen, 10 different opinions and everyone seems to be missing the mark. It would appear that this is not ordinary, because if it were, logic computes, there would be stats, labs to support a systematic malady, one symptom of which being elevated PTH. Perhaps even daring to venture and hypothesize by adding another and that would be elevated blood pressure inclusive of pain. I'd like to say it was a beautiful day, the elegance of green emerging from grey is splendid and the birds' forthcoming banter is uplifting to the mind body. Yes, said but not quite felt. It seems I move through air with a heaviness of b...
There was no sound coming from the outside. A dull yellow pale afternoon hanging heavy, the only distraction, the sweet grass smell freshly chopped. And who could tell it was afternoon in the endless ocher but for the puffed out sun in a silver shadow floating somewhere between the heavens marking 2-ish. There was the silence the still moments between the frenzy, between the chaotic jolts and the feverish interactions that comprised the life we shared, my 2 female feline allies and I. The rest mattered little in those spaces of time, all that was, was lifting self out in a dissociative effort and waiting to return when the coast was clear – but it was never a full return. Some parts were left either submerged or in endless and perpetual hiding. Maybe with the sun – somewhere in between the layers that heaven was made of. Still they stayed afloat – those removed pieces of self and soul – for the safekeeping of the angels. They were perpetually young and undamaged, but like amputated ...
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