And Linda was so desperate she was scrambling up and over me, my head held upright, her fingers pinching my nose and breath, then count, two, three, four, five, six and breathe.
And another sip of wine, or adding a bit of basil to the steak.
See, no one really wants to talk about the sort of brutality which is tearing up me, Linda, Cheryl and our household like a bulldozer, like a jackhammer. So we talk about cats. Instead of broken bodies and brain damage.
While some were getting dressed for a party, while some were starting to think about dinner. While some got in the car to head out to a restaurant, my brain was dying, the parts which told me to breath were broken, the parts that told me to expel carbon dioxide were broken, the parts which told me if I didn’t get oxygen in probably about three minutes I would have permanent brain damage were broken, the parts that told my heart to beat steady and supply that oxygen BROKEN.
MY BRAIN WAS BROKEN. For me, I was not unconscious, I was not ‘out of it,’ I was dead. And unless Linda and Cheryl could get some part of me restarted and soon, the pictures that my brain was flashing to me, the final S.O.S., that final call of distress, which said it was out of oxygen and would soon cease electrical activity would stop. And then I would be a corpse.
Linda and Cheryl worked on me for over an hour. Linda said that in a way, it was like no time at all, and in another way every second ticking away as they tried one thing after another and it just wasn’t working, it wasn’t working and my body was lying there, my heart beating erratic, on and off. When the body cannot expel carbon dioxide it gives a cough. That is why EMT’s and Linda cupped a hand in front of my mouth and nose, waiting, waiting, waiting, no cough. Cheryl came in and did the same and looked up as Linda said, “I tried that, it isn’t working!” Because I was broken. So Linda manually lifted up my torso to expand my ribs without the diaphragm……but I wasn’t breathing. So Cheryl was forcing air in. Forcing air in…and again...and again...again...again....again.....again…
And people were finishing up their meal and sitting back, sated. People were texting and calling, some were at a resturant, some at a pub, in front of a fire, and an hour had passed. Their lives, for the most part better. This was after all the weekend.
Though I was breathing a breath or two off and on, my hands were still black. And I was too weak to do anything but blink and try to stop the feeling inside of falling backwards into a dark well. Cheryl called to me, Linda rubbed me, anything, to irritate, to contact, because a grouchy Beth was not a dead Beth. And sometimes I did breath, but already I had not…..for minutes, for long enough for bits of my brain to die forever. Not because I did drugs, not because I drank for years but because I have an illness.
How was your weekend?
I say this because no one wants to talk about it. And the more no one wants to talk about it, the more isolated I become, the more isolated Linda becomes. The more my fear grows. The more our fear grows and the more I don’t think I am going to make it through this winter.

No, I don't have cancer, but both diseases kill. Or is cancer sad and understandable because we ‘get’ it, but me, going out and getting Linda a stuffie, a plushie and then having the same experience just not on the operating table is confusing? It isn’t confusing when Linda is terrified of my sleeping. It isn’t confusing when I am terrified to sleep. It isn’t confusing when I feel alone. Lonely, isolation, do you know that tune?

Will people be okay to talk about it when my hair is in wisps as if I have had treatment? Or look post surgery? Or get that yellow skin hue of an ill body? Because without my consent my body is working on it. Shall we call it Cancer instead of auto-immune disease, since one is cells surviving and reproducing against your own body (cancer) and the other is your defence system deciding that you are the enemy and attacking you (auto-immune), like in Lupus it is usually cartilage until your tendon is eaten. And for me, it is my brain, my thyroid, and a few other places. That make it less scary. How about I have stage four cancer in every lymph node and most of my bones? That make it sound more cheerful?
See these last few years, have been a fight, where Linda, Cheryl, I and a few people have tried to stop what isn’t really that theoretical. This is from about a year ago.

Here I am just starting the journey, when sexy was an option.

Here is this spring, before I managed to get Synthroid, using a day's energy.

Already the positive effects of Hawaii are gone. And what now. I am a person who remembers 2 days, maybe three and maybe some people are envious because I went on a trip I can’t remember. No, that’s not true, I do remember things, the things I remember are the actions I took, the memories of what to do for those I love.
We were looking at a slideshow of the last two years and Linda asked me, “Do you remember? Those places, do you remember?”

I said, “I know the place because of the name on the folder, and I know myself because I am.”
Linda didn’t understand.
I explained, “I may not remember but whether doing a victory sign or wheeling over a tree stump or sticking out my tongue, I am ME, I am ME and so I am glad I did those things.”
The thing I remember about Hawaii are the things I bought for everyone. I wanted to bring everyone with me on the trip. So when the others went to bed I wrote and posted the blog. I also wrote postcards, and stamped them, posted them, from Hawaii, and the first week back. Each one, every part, by myself, because each person matters. Because the only way I can remember anyone is to remind myself of them EVERY DAY. To know them as if they were family, so they end up family in my mind.
Linda said that when she went to the Mauna Lau Factory while I was going around talking to a woman just diagnosed with Lupus and getting presents for others (they have diabetic dark chocolate macadamia nuts, how cool is that?) she was watching me and saying to herself, “I am going to get something for US!” At the end she, one of the bags she is holding is for us, the rest are mine...for others.


Not ‘for others’ like people saying: ‘Please pick me up xxxxx in Hawaii’ but because I think every day of as many people as I can, I think, “What would they like?” And so I get things. Often each item I get is for someone, and though you may not like it, there is someone out there, maybe not on this continent who does, for whom it will matter. And Linda said, “You brought them along with the blog, you brought them along in getting them things, but do they bring YOU along with them?” No, or maybe, I just don’t remember those parts, but no. And so in one way, I am alone and terrified, I am on the downslope again, or maybe that is all I can remember, my health on the down slope and everyone is busy with ‘things that matter’, and ‘commitments’ and as Xmas comes, they will become more busy. And I would keep Xmas, except no one would come. And I would rather have a letter than a card preprinted. I was sick because I had doctors who could look at a stick figure in a wheelchair and NOT do anything about it because it ‘took longer than 10 minutes’ – see that is all THEY get PAID FOR.
Yes, part, now a large part is that isolated and scared girl. Is that person staring into the autumn down into winter.

“Why don’t you just buy for you?” Linda wants to know.
Because I feel I am out of time, I feel that, it sits on my back chattering away. And the dead are very poor communicators.
Because I was in Hawaii and I had these people, these dozens of people (many from the postcard project), people that all matter and yet people who I can’t tell anyone else about, I can’t talk about them here, and why I needed to make a difference. I can tell you about a comment last week which said, “I would have killed myself this week if it hadn’t been for you.” That is what I remember and that is why I when I went on the trip to Hawaii I blogged, I posted, I bought what I bought.
In the same mall is the four floor Japanese department store and the official Sanrio store. In the Hawaii Sanrio Store is the 35th year celebration, which has ‘hand towels’ of icons from different years. I bought some, like this dolphin because each icon is something I feel, I hope, I know a certain person will like.


And here in Hawaii Sanrio was the tomboy Kuromi as a surfer with attitude.



While over at the department store was a totally different style of Hello Kitty and other products like the annual Washi (wood block printed paper). This is the only set I could afford, with both the wood blocked colors on the watermarked paper but also wood block image and colored envelopes.

I bought as many postcards as I could that were Washi and woodblock colored. Each book shows on the front the season and the four images that each paper will hold. Here we see bunnies through the four season and the other are plants.



Here is one of the postcard images from the plants Washi postcard book.





At this store there was a Hawaiian Tiki Hello Kitty strap (gotten by Cheryl – what was I thinking – I was too slow!).


I did manage to find two Picture Holders. These illustrated folders hold the two pictures on the inside of the folder, protected by a plastic covering. They are unique for Hello Kitty, one is a traditional child of the Samurai House lineage in her Kimono, much like I saw at Sakura in Kanazawa.


What confused me were these stationery sets. I could only find one of each, one was of strawberries


As we traveled around, there were stores we went to and found stickers,



So for some people I searched out the rare and interesting flowers, I checked very carefully those who needed plants in pots inside and those who needed plants outside.


Why does it isolate? Because if the readers of Screw Bronze can’t talk about the fact that I came 20 seconds or a minute or a few electrical brain signals from dying on Saturday, because I have a disease where my own immune system is smashing and destroying my brain, what luck is uncle Bill, and niece Sally going to have approaching a sick relative or friend? If love is action, then when the visits get less and less because people have ‘commitments’, parties and warm houses to go to, where there aren’t scary tubes and pumps and hissing. “I don’t know if I can do this?” is what I have been told more times that I can remember before going to a hospital with someone. For me, I thought the same thing when I was 16 and went to see a classmate after a heart operation in ICU. It turns out that caring about the person is more important than the scary parts. But for many, it is a host of dinners and parties and then also, MAYBE, a visit to aunt X, you know, the sick one.
I got these postcards of the Green Turtle as seen in Hawaii



So that was most of my ‘loot’ from Hawaii. Which, I now have found means for other people, ‘stuff I got for me’ while for me it was ‘stuff I got for everyone else!’
I still have a lot of days and weeks and animal pictures to get through to the spring. And for me, a week is about 2.5 days. I don’t know why, I just know that is what Linda tells me. For me, it has already been a week since Cheryl left. And I don’t how many more weeks until she gets back. And the truth is that I have been going crazy, not in the good way, but in the bad way. I cannot escape that I cannot take care of myself, and I cannot escape that I have no medical services as yet, and I cannot escape that without care I will die. And I don’t want to die, so I am doing everything I can to NOT die. But the thing is that there are days that care doesn’t come, there are days that Linda is tired, there is so much, oh so much out of my control. And with Linda so worried she lets slip things, costs, deadlines, things to worry about, things to fear and now, I have more fears. Linda is getting better, and she is trying to reach out to those who support her, because except for Rabid, and Eiki Eiki, there is no one here to support me, to take away the fears that rush around in my head.
I am in the capital city, but I am alone.

Almost all the ‘loot’ is sent out, or will be in a week or two, trying to get ahead of the Xmas slow down. Plus getting things to people as a sort of Xmas thing – except we are supposed to be like that every day, so both Christ and the churches say. It is just if you don’t do it at Xmas, then people forget. Maybe they don’t but when you can’t remember beyond 2-3 days, it is very easy feel alone, be alone, to face winter alone. Until all I want is to let myself go, to give into it.

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