HAVEN’T BEEN able to pay many visits lately due to illness and lack of vehicle so it was a treat today to pay a visit at the start of Izzy’s birthday Month. HIs favourite Black Butterfl…
I am posting this one because i believe we all need to begin speaking up. Izzy was 57 kilos the day before he died. He also saw a doctor that day. He had seen several doctors over the time I knew him and this was the final one who complimented him on his weight loss, his running and his diet whilst ignored the hair falling out and the visible illness and sent him home.
The next morning he set off on his usual run and collapsed with a major heart attack and died in the Forest. The autopsy showed very advanced heart disease.
Izzy had been hospitalised for a night in 2008 with a suspected heart attack and had a mother die before the age of 50 from heart.
SHAME ON YOU, MEDICOS !
AND FROM OVERSEAS
“He’s working with a med student shadowing him today. Do you mind being seen by her first?”In the spirit of education, I said, “No, of course not.”She had long strawberry blond hair and big glasses. We talked. “What brought you here today?” she asked. “Well, I was seen in the ER three weeks ago for a blood clot in my leg and they told me I needed to follow up.” I watched her write down “Deep Vein Thrombosis.””It wasn’t a deep vein thrombosis, but they did find a blood clot, and told me to follow up with you.”She marked out “Deep Vein Thrombosis” and led me through my recent history since the Bad Fall Onto My Head on November 1st: concussion, double vision, vertigo, blood clot, and now this follow up, which also added recent chest pains to the list.”Yes, a tight band of severe pain across my chest on the least exertion — going to get a cup a tea can cause it. Feels like your lungs feel in extreme cold when you have bronchitis and you take a deep breath. Significant pain and then I have to lie down for it to resolve.”The doctor came in after a bit and explained things more thoroughly with this new audience, teaching while not listening, rather than just not listening.
“We were together. I forget the rest.”
Days come when I am aware of the Instinct for Survival. Today was cool and wet after a heatwave yesterday. Clacker and I were both vomiting last night From the heat perhaps or maybe in my case a reaction to food. Its led me today back to the Instinct to Survive.
I have done more in this week than usual. Walked and played and eaten out. Today was in bed and quietly so.
I cancelled the cataract surgery. Stripped a whole lot off the coming week. Feels better to me. The Brierfields are likely to be moving in that week and its not long before Saf goes back to school. Leave the eye till then. Talk to Dr Fergusson before surgery because the eye causing me problems seems to be the other one. IN fact – don’t even think about that tonight. Likewise the Harvoni. Deal with each thing as it arises.
Tonight is cool enough to have the heater on and its damp outside.
I allow myself an hour’s CONSCIOUS AND PLANNED GRIEVING each day. Sometimes, like today it becomes a background theme that takes me unawares. Sometimes, it is sweet and sometimes bitter vetch.
But each day, I take my one hour and watch his videos, listen to his music, talk of him and look through some of the many photographs we took.
CONSCIOUS AND PLANNED GRIEVING. It is taking out the garbage and sorting the debris. It is placing beloved souvenirs on the shelves and polishing them up.
It is taking out the garbage before it goes rotten and breeds maggots in my psyche.
CONSCIOUS AND PLANNED GRIEVING shows me where the Floodwaters might find entree and helps me prepare Flood and Fire and other Emergency Plans.
It is re-defining me.
It is, in its own way. a staggeringly beautiful experience – the Purity of Mourning.
Mourning without drugs or alcohol.
I do believe that I am glad I became so grief stricken that a sepsis pneumonia developed and thence the Coma – than to have been sedated or anti-depressanted into minimising the Loss. I prefer to be DEAD than WALKING DEAD.
The message we get is that we cannot get by without chemical adjustment.
MY MESSAGE IS – JUST WATCH ME , BABY !
On August 13 1987, as I sat in a Drug and Alcohol Detox Unit in the well known Callan Park Mental Hospital in Sydney, I said to myself : MY GOD , ITS THEIR DRUGS TOO. All the medicines and mood alterers and miracle drugs to “fix” me, had done me in as much as any of the illegal ones. I have been free of them now for 28 years and I am glad to the very core of my being.
Walk In Dry Places
Never too late___Self expression
Many of us lament the fact that we wasted youthful years when we should have been earning college degrees or perfecting a skill. Many of us simply do not feel we can take up something new because we missed the opportunity to try it when we were younger.
We are now learning that age is mental, not really physical. Some people seem aged and beaten at twenty-five, while others act sprightly and young at sixty. Moreover, we can find wonderful examples of people who blossom out in new activities without any thought or concern about age barriers. It is never too late for a person to study, to take up a new trade or profession, to follow a new scientific or artistic interest, or to begin other lessons.
If we are using age as a reason for not following our heart’s desire, we should ask if we are really finding ways to avoid responsibility for our own performance in life. We may be seeking excuses to spare ourselves the struggle and effort that are always required when we do something new or challenging.
It is never too late to be the people God intended us to be.
I will give some thought today to the excuses I’ve been using for not making better use of my talents and opportunities.
Meditation For The Day
In the new year, I will live one day at a time. I will make each day one
of preparation for better things ahead. I will not dwell on the past or
the future, only on the present. I will bury every fear of the future, all
thoughts of unkindness and bitterness, all my dislikes, my resentments,
my sense of failure, my disappointments in others and in myself, my
gloom and my despondency. I will leave all these things buried and go
forward, in this new year, into a new life.
Here it comes again – the searing midnight pain when staying up hurts too much and bed is a dread filled place with the brumby mad mind bucking and kicking and the nausea rising. He’s gone. All the bits and pieces are gone. There is nothing left. Novembers we travelled South. Novembers we went to Kathy’s birthdays. All done now. All gone.
There is nothing and noone to touch – to lie with – to hold on to. Noone to help me. Noone to love.
Behind the violent onslaught of Midnight Mind – I am aware that I have made another day without drugging or drinking or smoking. One more day which takes me no further into suffering. Simply wearied and worried and terribly lonely.