a reply to: JustMike
And that brings me to Mike…
Wow. You are loved! How I long for a fraction of that! I was moved by something that you are beginning to discover, and once again it brings me to a
new appreciation of the Journey that we are all on, both apart and together. It occurred to me that when we are on the same Journey, it is easy to
believe, falsely, that we see the same Landmarks along the way. Today I realized that we miss an opportunity for deeper understanding when we don’t
notice the opportunity to take a deeper look at something seemingly “obvious to everyone” that might just be only obvious to one of us. Two people
can have the same experience but have completely different outcomes from it, and this morning I found myself questioning if perhaps there might be —
wait for it — an important but unseen catalyst that might be in one experience that is not present in the other.
As you privately know, I went through something very similar to what Dada is going through, only in my case we knew the cause so I had some sense of
what needed to happen. In reflecting on the parallels between my experience and hers, I realized that I have been spending much of my time focusing on
the similarities, but I have failed to focus on the differences, and this morning I had an unverified Aha! moment, which I am bringing to the
forefront on this platform, since a few are following what you have shared so briefly earlier. This has to do with the idea of her having her real
consciousness being trapped in a dysfunctional brain. No one knows this experience better than I do. But this morning I realized a possible difference
between us. Actually two, that I hope I can get out clearly before I lose my own ability to focus.
One of the differences between our experiences was that I never suffered from delusions and so I was wondering why her and not me, or vice versa. In
my case, there were three different parts of my brain that were, and remain, affected and unusable, so if anyone should have had delusions, surely it
was me. But, duh, I think it has to do with the actual part of the brain that is affected AND also a slight difference in our individual Journey. I
will get back to this idea…
One of the similarities between us is something that I did not know about until this morning when you shared your post. It had to do with your little
experiments of asking about the day of the week and then the ability to figure out what day and date yesterday was. That was genius, Mike, and you
reminded me of something I need to share with you. When I was first poisoned, I knew instantly that something was wrong. Everyone did. But everyone
thought that it had passed. The next day, I was walking across the room and it felt like I had suddenly begun to fall to the right, but I had quickly
corrected my balance. It was very subtle. I paused over that and then assumed that I had imagined what had just happened. But a couple of days later,
I was walking across the room again, and it ever so subtly repeated, but this time my friend and assistant from work was walking behind me and he
exclaimed, “Whoa! What was that?” He saw it. And the next day still, this repeated, but this time my husband witnessed it. So, the good news was
that I knew I wasn’t imagining this, but the bad news was that no one knew what to make of it, and I did have a very busy business to run, so this
went onto the proverbial back burner. But soon the tremors began (I didn’t know about Dada’s tremors) only no one believed me unless they happened
to be near by when my foot would begin to bang on the side of the desk, as if it were possessed like Linda Blair for a few moments, as it would bang
against the desk quite violently, even though I could not feel anything at all. But this was so bizarre that even though nothing was said, I still
think that the people around me were thinking that I was somehow doing this myself for the dramatic effect of it all. But inside I was completely
terrified. The odd thing is the human impulse to maintain the status quo, even if you have to fake it, and if you can’t fake it, then you instantly
pretend that it didn’t just happen. Again, this is so easy to do when the phones are ringing and you have payrolls to meet.
The thing that no one realized, including me, was that it was not just my motor skills that were affected. My very ability to think was affected, but
even I couldn’t truly appreciate what was happening, and this is where I want you to pay attention to what I am saying, because this is one of the
things we appear to have in common…
I used to be a nice person. Yes, some would say I still am, but not me. I’m only a shadow of my former self. Before my eyes would sparkle all the
time and everyone could hear the love in my voice. After the poisoning I was becoming upset all the time, to the point that I was now snapping at my
employees. This was so unlike me and I could see the surprised and hurt look on my staff, but no one was more surprised that I was. After this had
happened a few times, I began to observe myself like a hawk, to try to discern what was wrong with this picture. The only thing I could discern was
that just before I was snapping at them, I had been trying to put the medical records that were stacked on my desk into alphabetical order. Prior to
the poisoning, I would do this in a flash, while speaking to a vender on the speaker phone and simultaneously watching a drop of live blood on the
microscope, while chomping on a cookie and catching every crumb before it hit the desk. But now I couldn’t put three records into alphabetical
order. I found that rather odd. I just assumed that I was burned out from the stress and tried harder and harder to focus.
It was two years later, during some neurologic testing, as I had been progressively getting worse, that I was given an odd test that told me nothing
but explained everything. The page had a bunch of numbers randomly placed on it and I had to connect the numbers with a line…Piece of cake….but
then on the next page, there was a bunch of numbers and letters randomly placed on the page. The goal was to connect the line via alternating numbers
and letters: Start at 1, then draw the line to A, then draw the line to 2, then draw it to B, then 3, then C, etc. I smiled like a little kid and
again thought “piece of cake” but for the life of me, Mike, I could not get past 2. I easily managed to draw from 1 to A to 2 to…to….to….let
me try that again….1 to A to 2 to….
In fact, as I am reliving that moment, I think that this was when the now occasional sparkle went out of my eyes. I had no idea that I had become so
instantly stupid. Unlike Dada, in my case I knew how it happened, but this was of no consolation. When hope dies, it dies. Dead is dead. I realized
that I was more of a vegetable than even I could have imagined. For me this was a turning point. On the one hand, I felt it best if I just took my own
life so that I would not be the obvious burden that I did not realize that I had become. But on the other hand, I did have just a tiny drop of faith,
by virtue of the fact that I was even still alive, as the experts had already written me off for dead.
In our clinic, years earlier, I had coined a motto, that I now had to live for myself: As long as there’s a pulse, there’s hope.
(except for this post that just hit the limit, so I'm hoping I can paste an unexpected Part 2...)