As I sat this morning feeling the start of yet another migraine after being unaccountably awake for a little over an hour, I wondered about whether or I was going to die soon. The last time I had this many auras (migraine kind, not chakra kind) it was the herald of a dangerously life threatening physical condition. The treatment of which left indelible scars on my body and my psyche. As I had my first cup of coffee this morning, a beverage by the way that I haven't partaken of in very much for over 2 years, I pondered through my diamond encrusted vision, whether or not I was in danger of slipping off this mortal coil sooner rather than later. It seemed at bit unfair. After spending the last year adrift in a sea of grief and uncertainty, I am finally starting to form a plan of sorts for the next part of my life. I was humored by the thought "We make plans and God laughs.". It is not that I am adverse to passing through the great transition that we must all pass through to the next world, I just don't want to do it now or in the near future. I don't want to make people that I love as sad as I have been, I'd also like to see what happens next while still enrobed in this body that I have taken such poor care of.
My migraine aura had abated for a few moments likely from the fancy new generation migraine meds that I popped as soon as I was sure that my vision was going, but here it is back again, something that never happens or at least hasn't for the past 23 years since I was first stricken with the malady. Another cause for concern or just coincidence?
When I review my life and times with any concentration on all the reasons why I am lucky to be alive still I am always amazed that the sheer staying power of the human spirit, at least my human spirit. From before my birth I have been plagued with maladies that could whisked me away from this earthly life and yet here I sit contemplating whether this current turn of events will be the one that will prove to be irresistible to my souls desire for relief from this burdensome life.
A catalogue of ailments feels in order here.
Halfway through my mothers pregnancy with me, my father's mind turned to murder and with that turn of his mind he beat my mother unmercifully and threw her down a set of stairs. the results of that beating was that my mom started bleeding and I lost the function of my right arm to cerebral palsy. At birth, as I struggled to free myself, all 9 pounds, ten ounces of me, the doctor decided to apply forceps to my infant head while I was still high up in my mother's pelvis and apply enough pressure to haul me out, a practice that was outlawed a few years later because of how many infants it damaged and killed. So there I was a large girl baby with cuts and bruises all over my face, right arm dangling uselessly with the seeds of a seizure disorder firmly planted in my baby brain from all the trauma. What followed was a blessing, my parents, too caught up in their torrid love affair with each other and booze neglected to place me in a state institution and forget that I was ever born as suggested by the kindly physicians who had determined that I would never be "normal". At least they were right about the normal part, but I did learn to walk and talk which is something that they highly doubted would ever happen. The next few years were a study in deprivation and neglect with a little sexual abuse tossed in to flavor the mix.
The next thing that I remember as a sign post of life threatening proportions was the early onset of drinking alcohol to relieve my childhood angst, at the ripe old age of 9, I had my first drink at my grandfathers knee, I chased that pain relieving, warm in the tummy feeling for the next 20 years culminating in a near fatal car accident that led me to detox and rehab. At age 12 or so, I sustained a depressed skull fracture while jumping on my bed, the treatment was a vigorous spanking and no supper. That injury finally unlocked the seizures from their hiding places and I spent the next 3 years afraid to wake up in the morning knowing that I was at risk for either being in a full blown grand mal as my eyes opened or would have that pesky right arm hanging uselessly for a few minutes from "sleeping on it wrong" It made me very popular with my siblings. At 21 I had the honor of being one of the youngest women to be diagnosed with breast cancer in the surgeons practice who preformed my mastectomy. I was sent home to die after a modified radical mastectomy, lymph node dissection and massive doses of radiation. At 22 I had my first indication that something might be wonky with my blood, a deep vein thrombosis and subsequent pulmonary embolus grounded me for a while. It wasn't until another clot and embolus in my 40's and my daughter was diagnosed with hemochromatosis that I not only found out that I was a carrier for the disease but that I had a propensity for "sticky blood". Sticky blood is not a good thing, and I should take better care of it, like taking aspirin daily, not smoking and keeping hydrated, all things that I seem incapable of doing for the past couple of months. Nothing like inadvertently committing suicide, eh? I simply must remember that taking care of me body, mind and soul is the key to taking care of others, an addiction that I am also plagued with, did I mention that I also have a case of rabid codependency? The most recent misadventure that I suffered was a run in with conventional modern medicine last year. I had a ruptured appendix, went to my nurse practitioner who sent me to the hospital who didn't listen to me or her, treated me for something else and finally removed said appendix a week later after I lay dying my mother's death for the duration. I then suffered a wound infection the likes of which I would like to never experience again. Now 18 months later, that same incision finally seems to be in it's final stages of healing, having broken open and drained for 6 months and spitting out whole stitches a little more than 2 months ago.
Now all these migraines in a row. I have gone several months without them in my life, many years even, but they always seem to herald nothing good, I guess I should take better care of myself and stop worrying about whether or not I have my affairs in order. I remember the first time that I experienced this disorienting flashing of diamonds across my visual field unprovoked by anything in particular except maybe terror. I was readying myself to go to mediation with my former husband, he was of the mind that I should not be parenting our children, I was a bad influence apparently, giving them what they needed and wanted instead of applying arbitrary rules and schedules that made it easier on the grownups. I am pretty sure that he just wanted an excuse to not pay child support. A hunch that was validated as I left that meeting with the fear of Jim in my heart and no child support for the next 6 years. Anyway, about an hour or so before the meeting, I was finishing up at work when I realized that I had flashing diamonds all over my visual fields, I was sure that I was having a stroke and called my physician immediately. He informed me that I was having a migraine aura and that if I didn't want to have the subsequent nausea, vomiting and massive headache that would most certainly follow that I should take a very large dose of an Motrin immediately. I did, I went to the meeting, had the bejeezus scared out of me and went on with my life. I had auras occasionally after that, always carried Motrin with me and didn't think too much more about it, but they have always scared me. They are so reminiscent of my seizures, all I can think about is the electric storm that is going on in my worse for wear brain that could cause such a dramatic light show in my eyes and make me feel sort of disconnected from this world and out of it for a while after wards. I just now got the connection between my first aura and the scare that I feel. My ex was hell bent on taking my children away from me and though he never had a leg to stand on to make that happen, I was terrified for the 11 years it took to get my youngest to the ripe old age of 18 that he would somehow manage to pull it off. I knew that I was not a great example of maternal wisdom and practice, I had not been given the template and I had figure it out as I went along. I also had been infected by the poisonous ideas from their father that I was not enough and never would be. That was an infection that took several years, much therapy and lots of prayers to heal from.
My children where my salvation, my hopes dreams and expectations made flesh, my best achievement thus far in this earth walk. They were my reward for not dying all those time when I could have. They still are, I would do most anything for their survival, their happiness and their health. It is a mother thing, I guess at least it is my mother thing. I love them to distraction and losing them has been one of my greatest fears for most of their lives. What an onerous burden for my poor chicks. So as I sit here with a slight headache feeling slightly removed from my surrounding, I am grateful for the clarity that writing this has given me and the opportunity to reexamine my fears of my impending death. I will die someday maybe today even but I won't have left this world in a worse state than I found it. My misadventures and my commitment to healing regardless of the difficulties has touched me, mine and the world at large.... and that is enough.
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