Love is Patient, Love is Kind....

I talked to my best friend last night. I didn't talk about myself or my feelings because I knew I would recover after awhile. I'm a lot like Tigger. I tend to bounce back.

So I guided our conversation to reminicing about her mother, both good and bad, but mostly funny stories. Then I kept quiet and just let her talk. Hospice told her that her mother probably won't last out the week. She's conflicted when it comes to how she feels about it because her mother was good at feeding, clothing her, and she worked hard to keep a roof over their heads, but her mother never showed her any love or acceptance. And she was physically abusive. When my friend was in her teens, her mother would wake her up in the mornings by punching her in the stomach. Things like that.

 Yet, my friend took her mother into her own home and has taken care of her for at least five years. Her mother hadn't changed. There was no mellowing from her mom. The entire five years, my friend's mother has spewed out constant criticism and complaints. One time she held a knife to my friend's throat and threatened to kill her. The police and a social worker got involved and nothing was done, but her mom learned a lesson. After that, my friend locked her bedroom door every night so her mother couldn't come in and kill her while she slept. She wasn't being paranoid. Her mother had told her that's what she intended to do.

This is why I'm always telling my friend that she's an angel. She doesn't think she loves her mother, and she has little reason to, but I think she does, somewhere deep inside. I think her mother's decline is hitting her harder than she wants to admit.

So I can't be mad at her, and I don't want anyone else to be mad at her, either. We're still best friends and we love each other. So what if she slipped up? I forgive that. I also forgive myself for getting so wrapped up in my own struggles and not being a better friend to her.

I'm not much for organized religion, and I sure don't believe everything in the Bible comes straight from a deity, but the Bible does have some beautiful and wise passages. I was brought up in a loving, Christian home and can remember my mother reading to us from the Bible. She didn't just blindly quote it, though. She always had a point. One of my favorites was 1 Corinthians 13:1-8. I can almost hear her sweet voice teaching us what love is.

I love my best friend and I know that, to be a caring friend, I need to give her time to work though her troubles. Yeah, I have troubles, too. Who doesn't? But this has to be her time to lean on me, and I need to find a way to handle my problems without putting more pressure on her. I think she knows that she can lean on me anytime she needs to. That's what friends do.

Peace and love. ❤️ Many thanks for your caring. It means a lot.

Who Do the Hell Do I Think I Am?

I've bumbled, surrounded by a glass box, through the years of my life, thinking I was trying my best and that my best was pretty much all right. I even felt sometimes that I was doing a good job. My anchor was my best friend. No matter what happened, good or bad, I knew in the depths of my heart that she loved me and accepted me, flaws and all, and that we would always be there for each other. 

Until last night. I never, in all the years of our friendship, asked her for money, though she generously gave me some now and then. i was grateful, because I only get about $100 a month. For three years, my income was $20 a month.

I have some aromatherapy lotion that helps me sleep. To me, it's very expensive at $13 a bottle. I don't have to have it. After all, I'll hardly die if I don't have some. But when I smooth it onto my skin, it soothes and relaxes me. It makes me feel special, almost as if I didn't have to get rid of everything I owned when I became a paraplegic and had to move into a nursing home. You know, like I was able to have something special, just for me. Then I saw yesterday that it was on sale for only $5 a bottle. For one day only. Problem was, it was 2 days before my social security arrived. By the time that came, the sale would be over and the lotion would be too expensive again.

So I did something I don't remember ever doing before. I called my friend and asked if she would buy some for me. That was a horrible mistake. She got really angry and hung up without even saying goodbye.

Later I called her back and told her I was sorry. She'd given me some money months earlier and chided me because I'd already spent it. I guess she had expected me to save it instead of spend it. I don't know. That's probably what she would have done.

She went on to tell me how many times she'd bitten her tongue because I'd irritated her. This was a revelation to me. I'd been believing all these years that she'd loved me as I was. She hid it well. I'd been believing she accepted me, faults and all. I was foolish. Like I said, I was living in a glass room.

Nobody's ever loved me unconditionally, other than my mother. Every person who has loved me since I became an adult, has eventually turned on me. Who do I think I am? I don't even think it's possible for someone to love me unconditionally. Is this my life lesson? Am I too arrogant and need to be taken down a few pegs?

Well, it's worked. I'm nobody. I'm nothing. And as for my friend, she gets all the credit for tolerating me and hiding her irritation. I added nothing but irritation to the relationship.

Now that I've learned the lesson -- and I've been so dense that I've had to have it pounded into my head since I was in gradeschool -- could I go Home now? Please. I know I don't deserve any mercy. I've been an irritation to others my whole life.  A taker. Selish and self-centered.

Please, God, angels. Please take me Home. I don't want to be here anymore. I have no hatred or anger in my heart, not even toward myself. I'm so tired. Please let me rest now.

I Got the Heebie-Jeebie, Heart-Thumpin', Fight-or-Flight Blues

I don't often feel like this, thank goodness, but the past few days I've had it bad. I don't want to read. I don't want to watch shows or movies. I don't want to learn anything new. I don't want to write or talk or laugh. I don't want to do any of the things that usually help me cope, because I am beyond coping right now. I don't want to cry, either, though sometimes I do in spite of myself. I don't feel spiritual. I don't feel hope. I don't even feel like I'm a part of the world. I feel most like a fly trapped in amber.

It's as if my life is made of quicksand and I'm gradually sinking down into it, to the point where, eventually, I will disappear altogether. But I won't be dead. I'll just be there, somewhere under the surface, smothering but never being released by death. Just unable to breathe or break free, forever. And no one will be able to help me because I've disappeared so they don't know they can. I become part of the past, faded and eventually forgotten.

I am unutterably dismal. This level of misery is inevitably dramatic and I apologize for that. I'm being unfair to people who love me. I apologize for that, too. Feeling this way is selfish and egocentric, as all pain is. No excuse. Just reasons.

There's no point to this blog entry. I was thinking maybe putting it into written words would help somehow. I don't know if it's helped me or not.

But I do know what I want to do. I want to go to sleep and stay asleep until things get better. Because, as I told my therapist, at least in my dreams I can walk.

Sorry for the downer. 

I'll keep these in mind: ❤️

Not Again

Yep, it's been about a month since my last entry. I spent about a week of that month in the hospital. Again. I had atrial fibrillation. Again. At least my blood pressure and heart rate haven't been high since then. They've even been a little low. In the hospital, my heart rate went down, at one point, to 30. But not to worry. It's been in the 40s and 50s since then. Can't complain. Once in awhile I feel like I'm riding a very slow carousel, except that I'm lying still and the world is spinning around.

I got up in my baby-buggy "wheelchair" last week. It was OK for awhile. I had my mental health therapy session sitting up, which was a nice change, and it was a good session. He pointed out that I usually go into a depression after I've been sick, and I realized the truth in that. He said something about how, then, I had to start from the beginning again. But that didn't ring true to me. So I said, "No... Not really, because I'm not the same person I was a year ago. I've evolved since then."

He slowly nodded his head. "You're right," he agreed, "and I'm happy you recognize that."

When our session was over he wheeled me into the dining room, situated me at a table with some ladies where I could I could see most of the room and went on his way. I was enjoying listening to the hub-bub in the room and had struck up a conversation with a couple of the ladies. I was really enjoying myself.

Without warning, someone came up behind me, saying something about that being somebody's spot and started pulling me away. I had to scramble to get all my things off the table in order not to leave them behind, it was so fast. This person preemptorily moved me to an empty table near the wall and parked me there. My chair is built so that I'm unable to see behind me or to either side of me, so I could only see a small bit of the room. Lunch was served. I ate alone.

About 12:30 I saw one of the aides from my hall and told her I needed to go back to my room. She said that as soon as she could get the lift (there is only one in the entire building, and it keeps breaking down) they would do that. The next time I saw her, sometime in the next hour, she was coming out of the break room, presumably coming off her break. She crossed the opposite side of the room and didn't make eye contact with me.

Meanwhile, I noticed that my colostomy bag was about to burst. So a request had turned into an emergency situation. Eventually, a nurse, (in order to protect her identity, I'll just call her Nurse Bitch) wandered by and I waved her down. I explained the situation and asked her to tell the aides on my hall what was going on. Twenty or so minutes later, I waved her down again and asked her what they said.

She answered, "Oh, I don't know. They were busy putting somebody to bed."

So I said, "Well, you know, if this busts, everybody's going to be unhappy."

With a little smirk,  she told  me, "Well, I won't be unhappy because I won't have to deal with it!" And she walked off.

I was on the verge of a meltdown by then, So I got out my cellphone and called the front desk. I told the nurse who answered the whole story and we hung up. Next thing I knew she was paging the nursing home administrator. He found me, pushed me down the hall and parked me just outside my room, then headed to find the aides and tell them to get me taken care of.

It wasn't their fault. They were insanely busy and didn't know about my emergency because Nurse Bitch had never talked to them.

By the time The administrator got involved I was in full meltdown mode: crying, angry, swearing. You name it. And I told him that these kinds of situations were exactly the reasons I never wanted to get up in my chair.

I was finally put back to bed at 3 pm, 2-1/2 hours after I had been promised it would be in a few minutes.

This happens almost every time I get up. I can't move my chair 1/4 inch. Someone else has to move it. And when I first found out about it, I predicted that I would just be parked somewhere and forgotten. I'd say a good 90-95% of the time that's exactly what happens. It's not like I'm a person. I'm just a lump of meat sitting, forgotten, in some out of the way place.

I hate it. I'd just as soon stay in bed. It's more cheerful and more comfortable. And at least I can push a button to get help when I need it.

So don't ask me when I'll be getting up in my chair again. It may be quite awhile from now.

Thanks for plowing through this canticle of negativity. I appreciate your caring hearts. ❤️

Stating the Obvious

Part 2 of my hospital stay revelations.

I was feeling a lot more myself after a few days and my throat wasn't hurting, so I went back to being my chatterbox self. A great guy named Vince came on shift as my tech. So, while he was doing things around my room, I told him about Lyra. Of course I did. I tell EVERYBODY about Lyra. I enjoy telling people about her because I like sharing her story with others and because it helps me keep her alive in my mind.

Vince was extremely receptive to me and seemed to enjoy listening about Lyra so, over a couple of days, I went into greater detail about her. He just gobbled it all up. He turned out to be not only receptive but open-mindedly spiritual as well.

Since Lyra died I've been struggling to figure out why I'm still alive. For a long while I felt like I was utterly useless, and I truly was. I'm still unable to do anything for myself or anyone else and I've lost almost any semblance of independence. So I was at a total loss as to what my purpose in life could possibly be. And I yearned to leave this life and go Home to spirit. I even had a plan and was slowly putting it into motion. But when I thought back to all the potentially fatal  illnesses I've survived, like hemmoraging after a tonsillectomy in 1952, and having emergency surgery to remove my gallbladder in the 1970s, and having Hepatitis A in the 1970s, and having the flesh-eating bacterium invade my abdomen in 1998, then getting bacterial meningitis which is what caused my paraplegia in 2010, I figured there must be SOME reason for me to be alive. But what? I could not imagine what it could be.

Eventually I realized that I could use my one and only talent of putting words together. That was the only power I had left. But I had no idea what to write. So I started this blog, and have been writing it, somewhat sporadically, for nearly a year. But, I knew, it wasn't the answer to my question.

So I was lying in my hospital bed, regaling Vince with tales of Lyra's life when he turned, looked at me, and said, "You should write about Lyra's story." And in my mind I heard what sounded like a chorus of angels and saw a light brighter than the sun. And I thought, "Of course! Why didn't I think of that?" It was so obvious I couldn't imagine why I hadn't thought of it myself. But I knew, the second Vince said it, that THIS is my purpose!

I told Vince that and, later, told him that if Lyra's story ever gets published as a book, I will say in the acknowledgements, "Many thanks to Vince, for stating the obvious."

So, as has always been my habit before writing, I am mulling this around in the back of my mind. I'm also thinking about who I need permission from to include their names and possibly pictures. This is, after all, a true story about Lyra's life. However, I will change names and omit photos of those who want to stay anonymous. 

There you have my second revelation. It seems kind of stupid that I had to be in the hospital and suffer so much pain just to get a couple of revelations, especially since writing about Lyra wasn't a new idea. In fact, that had been suggested to me by other people. I guess I wasn't ready for it before. I wasn't in a place of acceptance until my illness wiped away all of my other concerns and left the way open for Vince to reach my inner self. Who knows? I just know that it feels right, and I have no doubt that I will accomplish my goal.

And now, there's not even a thought or wish of dying. I want to live because I know what my purpose is for being here.

Thank you to all that made this suggestion. Sorry it fell on deaf ears. Love, hope, and peace to you all.

Lyra as a baby. She was grinning, of course. ❤️

:-D

When Angels Speak

Revelation time. Most of the time I was in the hospital for an impacted bowel I was either in too much pain or felt just plain too awful to think coherently. Also, I was averaging 4 hours of sleep a day because, at night, somebody was waking me up every two hours to do something to me and, days, somebody was always pretty much constantly doing something to me or for me. Being a patient in a hospital is not for the faint of heart.

After a few days of sleep deprivation I felt well enough to dig in my heels . I was determined to get some sleep. I didn't want to watch tv. I didn't want to play on the internet. I didn't want to read, nor listen to music. I wanted to sleep. So around 2 in the afternoon I closed my eyes and tried to fall asleep. At around 4:30 I gave up.

It later occurred to me that, while I lay there, awake and relaxed, I entered a kind of meditative state. I am a big failure at meditation. My thoughts buzz randomly around my head like out of control drivers traveling at high speeds around a traffic circle in Rome. A few minutes of trying to meditate and my thoughts sprint in all directions at one time. So I give up.

That's why I'm astounded that I managed to quiet my mind that day. I think it must have been the combination of exhaustion, illness, and desperation that got me to that point.

I was brought up in the Methodist church so I've heard about guardian angels all my life. I gave up on organized religion long ago, but started seeking out spiritual truths after my little girl died from cancer in 2011. That, coming fairly soon after I lost the ability to walk, had laid me pretty low, emotionally. I confess, I wallowed in that chasm of despair for a couple of years.

But learning about and exploring spirituality, and the help of a mental health therapist, saved me. I was teetering on the edge of a cliff, ready to step off into eternal oblivion.

So the first of my two spiritual revelations happened while I lay there trying to sleep. I'd read a lot about how to contact my angels, but never managed to do it. Maybe that was because I'm skeptical about things I can't see for myself. But I was feeling pretty desperate so I figured what the hey -- I may as well give it another try.

I said to them, silently, "Angels, help me. Help me cope. I don't know what to do. Please help me." And I thanked them with love.

Then, almost immediately, they answered me in my mind. It wasn't in words, exactly, or in pictures. It was kind of both and neither at the same time. Because of that, I can't quote what they said. But the message was very clear. They told me I need to love myself unconditionally, I need to forgive myself for all the mistakes I've made in this lifetime, and I need to accept myself completely, just the way I am.

This sounds crazy, right? Was I actually just having a chat with my own subconcious? Who knows? They didn't tell me how to go about doing these things, but I did get a mental picture of me opening up my inner self like one would open a treasure chest full of radiant light. And I felt at peace. That's stuck with me, with just a couple of short dips into sadness. I guess it doesn't really matter where the message came from. It just matters that I received it.

I want everyone to understand that I don't expect anyone to believe me, or to take any of this as an invitation to adopt my beliefs. We are, I think, each on our own journey. We can walk together for awhile and share in each other's journey, but I'm pretty sure we each have to find our own way the best we can. My intention is not to convince anyone that I'm right and they're wrong. I'm simply offering this to you as food for thought. Or you can dismiss it out of hand, even laugh at it. It doesn't matter in the long run. We each have free will, and so we can choose whatever path we want to travel.

Well, again, this is awfully long. The other revelation I experienced will have to wait until my next blog entry. Sorry. I promise I will do my best to write about it tomorrow.

Thank you for letting me share my story with you. Peace and joy to you all.

What happened?

You might be wondering that, because it's been over a month since I wrote my last blog entry. Honestly, I'm not entirely sure what happened, but I'll try to figure it out.  First, I got tired of beating my head againts walls and backed way off from trying, futiley, to fight my way out of going nowhere. I didn't give up, exactly, but I did realize that I need to choose my battles more wisely. Once I did, I was much happier. For awhile all I did was watch tv shows and movies, along with a few documentaries, on my iPad. I was kicking back, trying to renew my mental, emotional and spiritual energy. It worked pretty well and that also made me happier.

However, I had some infections going that had me feeling bad and causing me pain. My doctor doesn't like prescribing medicine, especially pain meds and antibiotics.  So, for weeks, I just lay in bed feeling pretty awful. It culminated, eventually, into a severe pain on my left side. I was sent to the emergecy room. They did a ct scan but couldn't see anything so they sent me back to the nursing home. The next day, the pain got worse and worse until my stomach grew distended and hard and I spent the entire night screaming with pain. It wasn't as painful as giving birth, but it was close.

So the next morning I went back to the emergency room. This time they did an x-ray and found the problem. I had a bowel impaction, which meant that nothing was getting through. Think about that for a quick moment. Don't dwell on it, though, because it's an icky mental image.

So they put a tube down my nose and admitted me into the hospital. I was there 8 days.

I won't go into the gritty details of my treatments. They, happily, involved getting intravenous antibiotics, which coincidently cleared up my infections, so yay for that. And I got this dandy IV pain medicine which, when given too quickly, made me throw up, which you do NOT want to do when you have a tube going down your throat. But, at the same time, it gave me a hell of a rush, which sent me back to the '60s. I never actually shot anything up back then, but the rush from my pain med gave me a better understanding of why people get hooked on that kind of thing. And how it can turn into a very steep slippery slope. I even considered lying about my pain to get more, but, thankfully, resisted the urge.

Gradually, day by day, I got better and better. They finally took the tube out of my nose, and my sore throat got better until I could talk again. Not being able to talk -- now, THAT was painful.

The experience was extremely educational and I learned some real spiritual lessons, as well. In fact, I had a true spirtual revelation. Two of them.

This entry is too long to tell you about them today, but I will explain about these revelations in my next entry. I promise not to let 6 weeks go by between entries this time.

Thank you to everyone who gave me love and support while I was sick. You're the best. Love and peace. ❤️