when i first walked in, the rooms smelled and i was just thinking, this isn't me, i don't belong here...i didn't like where the recliner was because it was right next to the trash. it all felt so wrong...then i looked at the other people getting their chemo or their blood, and i knew that no one felt like they belonged in this place. no one wanted to be there...that calmed my inner critic and complainer. feeling like we're all somehow in this together changes a lot inside my mind...but i was still nervous.
deborah came and began jin shin on me right before the transfusion started. that was the perfect antedote. i feel so fortunate to have her in my life...the first blood i received seemed mellow to me. i imagined it came from a calm woman. i was very aware that i was taking in the blood of another human being. the first one went quicker than expected, only 1 and 1/2 hours. the second blood was from a different person and i swear i could tell the difference. this one was a male, and much more intense. i felt my heart pumping and my blood pressure went up. and last night i dreamed that i was in a club in new orleans. i liked the feeling in the club and when i woke up i was sure that i was given the blood of a black man. when i told mitchell that, he laughed and said i was crazy. i asked him why he never believes any of my cosmic intuitions and he said i should just ask my "community" (that would be you) about it and see what they (you) think. then he made a bunch of jokes...i still believe me. i also dreamed that i had copper colored hair. i think that had to do with the trace minerals i was given. the thing is, i can't prove any of this, but mitchell can't disprove it either...so there...
the day before the transfusion i saw the oncologist. well, actually, i saw 3 of them along with a nurse practitioner. it's a teaching clinic and i was the lesson. basically, she said the same stuff. my blood will continue to get worse unless i try a chemo. she said she'd give me a low dose and if i hated it, i could discontinue. that all made sense except when i got home and read about her recommended chemo and then spent yesterday in that infusion room...i don't know. i really don't know what to do now. i'm hoping it gets clearer as the days go on.
in the traffic on the way home i looked up tibetan buddhism and blood transfusions (mitchell was driving). in some religions transfusions are a no-no, but in this one, it's okay. it's all about people helping each other...i came across a story that touched me and i wanted to share it with you...
A little girl was ill in hospital with a rare blood disorder and was badly in need of a blood donor but a match could not be found. As a last resort, her six year old brother was checked as a match and much to everyones relief, he was.
Both his mother and Doctor sat the little boy down and explained how they would like his blood to help his sister so she would not die.
The little boy waited a few moments then asked if he could think about it.
It wasn't the reaction the mother or Doctor expected but they agreed......
The following day the little boy sat in front of the Doctor with his mother and said he agreed to give his sister what she needed.
The hospital staff moved quickly for his sister was fading quite fast.
So the little boy could understand what was happening, he was placed in a bed next to his sister and so the transfusion began. Quickly, the colour and life began flooding back into the little girl and every one was over joyed.
The little boy turned to the Doctor and quietly asked, "How long will it be before I die?"
You see, the little boy thought that by giving his blood, he was giving his own life, which is why he took a little time to think about it..........
Distrust to trust: Wave Geber, cats go the distance
Eileen Mitchell
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
mitchell gillman
Poppy, Buttons and Ollie, formerly feral kittens, enjoy the good life. Their owner, Wave Geber, was afraid of cats until she adopted one. After that beloved cat died, these three brought smiles once again.
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Growing up, Wave Geber's parents were afraid of cats, and by default she was too. But as an adult, when a friend asked the San Francisco resident to cat-sit for a week, Wave had an epiphany. Not only did she like cats, she even began to consider adopting one.
One Saturday, the SPCA was doing an adoption drive, and that's where I found Poppy. We lived together for 14 years, and sometimes she was my only reason for coming home. When she died, I grieved for a long time. Even months after her death, it would hit me out of the blue that Poppy was gone. In those intense moments, I grieved for all the losses in the world and wondered: If I could mourn so deeply for a cat, how do people ever recover from the loss of a loved one?
When people suggested adopting a new cat, I felt like they didn't get it. Poppy wasn't replaceable. A friend said that Poppy's spirit was in all cats, and adopting another would be honoring her, but I didn't do it. I wasn't going to risk a loss like that again.
About a year after my boyfriend and I moved to Berkeley, I noticed a cat lurking in the front yard. It looked malnourished, so I gave her a plate of sardines. The next day she was joined by a little black kitten with a runny nose. Within days, a colony of feral cats appeared.
It wasn't long before I became a crazy cat lady. I learned about ferals and borrowed humane traps to get them to the vet. Most were sick and some were euthanized. Most ferals never make a sound, but the little black kitten was brave, approaching the back door and meowing for food. One day she came close enough for me to pet her and I found myself calling her Poppy. And just like that, I was adopted by a new Poppy.
Six months later, I saw that Poppy's mother, the most feral of them all, was pregnant again. Seven weeks after she had her litter, I trapped her and took her to the vet. She was very sick and had to be euthanized. My concern was for her kittens - where were they? If any were alive, I hoped to save them.
I knew they were on the other side of the fence in the backyard so I kept putting food closer to our side of the fence until I got two tiny ones into the trap. I named them Buttons and Molly until I learned from the vet that Molly was actually Ollie. They were smaller than my palm and would only come out while we slept. It took a month before the kittens even let me near them, but six years later, I'm definitely the cat's meow - at least to Buttons, Ollie and Poppy.
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This article appeared on page E - 5 of the San Francisco Chronicle
Read more: http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2011/08/16/DDVE1KHQSA.DTL#ixzz1VIdR3MUo