I don’t know if anyone who might see this video saw our Christmas Card a few years back; but, this is how we did it.
Looking for old movies…found this triumph. I had a heart attack, 100 percent blockage of the left ventricle, about four years ago or so. Cardiac ICU, stent, all that crap. We took this challenge at my behest. I forgot this video even existed; it shows the power of human will. Shall we all climb together?
Please take the time to watch the whole thing.
Doug was behind us all the way!
Doug had his two hour meeting with the “finance people” and a nurse today. Chemotherapy doesn’t start yet; we thought it was going to be tomorrow, but tomorrow is more scheduling and planning of all his nearly draconian treatments. He might lose his hair they said, he’s only got 500 bucks left on his deductible so it sounds like
a tax refund will cover the bill! He tried to tell me the two hours of stuff that he heard but I only remember four words—I count them as four because I’m not sure if the contraction “It’ll” is grammatically correct. Is “it’ll” one word or two? I only now and probably will only remember four words for the rest of my life.
When Doug asked: “How will I know the cancer is gone? Do they do another CT scan or how do I find out?”
The nurse said, and she did say it twice: “It’ll be gone–It’ll be gone.”
The only thing I can say or think is: “It’ll be gone.”
Before Doug can begin his treatments, he has to meet with a “finance person”; it’s comforting to know that the finest healthcare system in the world has all their priorities in line, i.e. money, as our life expectancy in America continues to drop when compared to countries who offer that horrible, terrible, free, universal healthcare.
Doug is going to be having at least two rounds of chemotherapy and about a month’s worth of everyday radiation. He is a tough guy and I fully expect him to handle this better than most. I don’t know that we have faced a bigger adversity than this situation; there are many lessons learned and yet to be learned. Faith is picture it done.
When one sits down and really takes the time to assess all the perfect and wonderful things one has in his/her life; one can truly see a quagmire of lost things, broken things, worthless things…things, things, things. What are things really? If one looks to what we know in terms of the actual physics of things, things are all the same: quarks, leptons, the Higgs, boson, matter, anti-matter and, the now famous “dark” matter.
Careful, this video MIGHT JIGGLE YOUR BRAIN.
It seems the farther down we look into the tiny, the more the tiny resembles the big: an atom has a nucleus (like our sun), with electrons spinning around it (like our planets) and in between there is space, or nothingness, a vacuum (like dark matter). Big things seem to be pretty much the same as small things; something wouldn’t even exist without nothing, but even nothing itself must be considered as something. Dark matter makes up most of what we consider our known universe and no one really knows what dark matter is; it is actually just theorized to exist. Even the idea of a universe gets tricky, as per quantum physics and/or string theory, there are any number of dimensions in which all these things can exist simultaneously: a multi-verse. You, in theory, could be both alive and dead at the same time reading this same text in two different vibration states on two different Iphones…which brings us back to “things”.
The water pump is going out on our car and Doug has cancer. Both these states or conditions can be perceived in the same way. Both are potential problems and could lead to a dangerous failure of an entire system. Since our perception has been proven to have an effect on the states of matter, and may even be the very reason for its existence, then we have a choice (otherwise known as free will) in determining outcomes of everything we see and even those we don’t.
The only “thing” that will save us all as beings is our consciousness and no scientist has figured out what consciousness really is. The only process by which we can expand our consciousness is through breathing and meditation, achieving an alpha state. According to Nikola Tesla:
“Alpha waves in the human brain are between 6 and 8 hertz. The wave frequency of the human cavity resonates between 6 and 8 hertz. All biological systems operate in the same frequency range. The human brain’s alpha waves function in this range and the electrical resonance of the earth is between 6 and 8 hertz. Thus, our entire biological system – the brain and the earth itself – work on the same frequencies. If we can control that resonate system electronically, we can directly control the entire mental system of humankind.“
It therefore appears possible (per Tesla through the “entrainment” of our brains…CAUTION could be dangerous), if we could put enough of humanity in this alpha state simultaneously, we could make some type of momentous breakthrough with a collective consciousness. We can do this simply by changing our breathing patterns.
Next time you start to worry about the things in your life, literally all you have to do is take a few deep breaths, close your eyes, “entrain” your mind and enjoy the new reality created when you open your eyes!
Just 72 hours after having his chemo port put in:
- Doug got to take his first shower
- We changed his bandage for the first time
- He’s going back to work
His work involves heavy lifting as he is a receiving manager. He says he is going to do paperwork. I have never heard him talk about paperwork before. He works in retail and it is that awful “Black Friday” thing. He is not supposed to lift any more than 10 lbs. Fortunately, he will be off of work starting Monday for the next 6 weeks.
Doug is the single-most forgiving person who I have ever met in my life. He forgives everyone. If I can’t forgive them he tells me how I should do it, why I should do it and when I should do it.
For some bizarre reason, this strange story is the first one that came to mind which demonstrates Doug’s forgiveness in diametric opposition to my unwillingness to do so. When we were living in an apartment in midtown (a rough neighborhood), probably 25 years ago, we had some drug dealers living in the apartment below us. Now, we assumed from the skunky odor wafting upstairs, they just sold pot so that’s no big deal because they were too paranoid to cause any real trouble, and just naturally, or “herbally”, kind of friendly . They were quiet and cordial when we crossed paths in the stairwells until…they got a dog.
At the time we had two dogs: Carmen, the sweetest little coyote anyone could ever find; she was a rescue from, at that time, the most horrific local animal shelter you could imagine: She was a pup and looked like a gangling, wild, coyote…even the vet asked where we found such an aberration…big ears, a mangy gray coat, all legs, paws and all spunk. In the first minutes she sat with us outside the shelter, she growled at a person who approached us in order to pet her. We thought a collective “Wow, she’s part of the family already!”
Gabriel, the Angel who only loved us and hated almost everyone else, except for my sister and her husband, was her unwanted adopted son; but, Carmen took care of him anyway. Unless he got out of line, tried to be the alpha male, she literally once tore into his bare belly. He had to have stitches. It didn’t matter if the person Gabriel was meeting was male, female, black, white, gay or straight…He thought it was necessary to protect us from them. I specifically remember him trying to bite this harmless, kind, Jewish lady who had come to visit; she was just a writer. He was given to us by friends who had found him hiding in a bush, barking in one of the scariest parks in town. He was a pup too and looked somewhat like a baby hippopotamus: a Shar-pei, Doberman mix…a Genghis Khan of dogs.
Look, we lived in midtown, and God sent us the Angels we needed to protect us. When we took them for a walk people coming our way would cross the street, literally every time!
Taking our two sweet, little monsters for a walk involved descending three flights of stairs and once our “friendly”, high neighbors below had obtained their dog…looked like a small lion, a Chow mix of some kind, mean, super aggressive, he never had a contact high, just automatically pissed off…and sometimes we would cross paths on the narrow, 1940’s era wooden staircase. Little Mr. Downstairs meanie would go ballistic, then our Angels would go ballistic and the whole scene would turn into a mock, staircase dogfight. We didn’t need this stress! Then, our skunky friends, started letting baby lion dog out by himself: chaos, pure chaos. He’d run at all four of us, gnashing of teeth, frantic barking, malicious posing, horrific pawing from a trio of aggressive, midtown dogs.
I told Doug, more than once: “I wanna kick that fucking dog!” Just like Captain Kangaroo, he would calm me, reminding me they were just dogs and we would just have to deal with the situation. I would lay in bed, struggling at Doug’s simple art of going to sleep, thinking about all the battles I had to fight everyday including the loose dog, staircase clash of the titans: a horrible picture came to my mind. The fight or flight response can turn a man into a monster.
It was my turn to take Carmen and Gabriel for a morning poop. Doug wasn’t around. It was my conscience versus his forgiveness. Three wild dogs and one wild man. This situation had to end! The picture in my mind, the movie in my brain was turning into a reality.
I had prepared the war the day before by stashing a brick near the top of the staircase. I was the gladiator: Carmen and Gabriel pulled me down the stairs like Ben-Hur in a chariot race. Oh my, should I consider the Ten Commandments at this point? The brick was in my hand, the lion dog was milling around near the entrance to the arena unaware of our approach. What would I do? Doug’s voice was speaking to me.
Here comes lion-dog, teeth bared, growling ready to attack. Doug’s words flashed through my head again, kind words forgiving words, words of patience and wisdom; so…I took that brick, threw it and hit that mean monster of a dog right between the eyes…he never bothered us again after that brick retrained his mind. He wasn’t wounded just reproached and he knew when Ben-Hur and the chariot was coming it was time to be passive, sweet and maybe even a little bit stone just like his owners…problem solved.
Now I know this doesn’t sound like the ending to one of Aesop’s fables for we would have found a non-violent solution to our problem but; that isn’t my point. My point is that Doug’s voice has spoken to me in the past and speaks to me still and will forever speak to me and, while I may not always take his path, his path is always in my head beckoning me to do the good thing, not the right thing (Doug doesn’t like the right or wrong argument), the good thing. Everything I do is tainted with Doug’s good heart, patience, and forgiveness. He can’t go anywhere and leave this Frankenstein behind to pick flowers by the pond for the rest of his life!
I have not become perfect but slightly more forgiving for having Doug as my teacher.
Doug and I were discussing the topic of the power of the spoken word, while we walked at one of our favorite places: Squaw Creek National Wildlife Refuge. I believe the human voice and especially the vocalization of word is very powerful. I have felt this way for a long time. I also believe places, like this Refuge we were walking in, have power of their own; it is a paradise full of energy and teeming with life.
Doug had been saying: “I’m sick” and “what I need to do to get better.” A slight fury stirred in me and I insisted to him that “You are not sick. You are one of the healthiest people I know. What you have is like a giant wart and the doctors are going to burn it off.” If you say you are sick, you are sick…or will be if you are not already.
As I spoke these words to Doug (this was the day before his diagnosis), walking through this magical place which is a heaven on earth, the sun warming our faces as we headed south against a clean, icy wind surrounded by the most azure blue water, bluer than the sky; I felt him starting to heal in an instant. I had what I would have to call a “hope spike” which is a flash moment of joy, it hit me like a nail through the piece of heavy wood, worry wood, which I had been carrying for two months; it didn’t last more than a second but inside that second was an eternity of joy, hope and peace.
― Foundation for Inner Peace,
How would you like t to have this person taking care of you? I’m a much better drunk than a nurse but I’m doing the best I can. Without having had a drink, as I was headed out the door to get Doug some of his favorite food, Panda Express, I fell off the stairs. I thought to myself: “I probably wouldn’t have fallen if I were drunk. I would have been more careful…knowing that I was drunk.” Oh well, I only hurt my already sore knee when I hit the ground. I’m having a drink now…
After much prodding, Doug took two ibuprofen because the local anesthetic in his chest wore off. He was afraid of “the rebound effect” when the ibuprofen wore off! What? Has anyone heard of that?
“Sheesh, I’d fire that nurse!”
Oh! His fortune cookie said: “Listen to friends with an ear to the future.”
Listen to me Doug! You are not “sick”, you just have this huge, weird wart and the doctors are going to burn it off. Then you get to keep having fun!
The port is in. The nurse told us what seemed like five hundred things. Doug was on Fentanyl but not unconscious, kind of like Michael Jackson. He can’t sign any documents or drink any wine, or jump rope for 24 hours.
It really pisses me off that he keeps talking about going back to work just to do paperwork. He just had minor surgery to put a tube in a large vein near his heart! Jeez, take it easy for a couple of days. He doesn’t listen…hmmm who used to be stubborn like that….oh yes, his now deceased father Wally.
The nurse just told him to ask questions anytime but he’s so shy and and wants to be so little of a bother for anybody that he usually won’t ask a question or push an issue. Ugh, so frustrating.