I got up at 7 am, no Bikram today. I walked Elsa. I squeezed a dozen of the ripest limes before they went bad while doing the oil rinse. Then I washed last night's dishes. I worked on the blog while drinking my two cups of water. I am committed to getting the blog up to date. Once that is done, I have other chores. I need to follow up on all the financial stuff and get to work on Mike's book and get back to work on mine.
I showered, did MELT, used the Tiger Tail, and dressed for church. Judy and Paulette picked me up. It is always cold in the Holy Rosary church. It's a small building. Maybe it holds 75 people. Sometimes there are chairs set up on the small lanai at the top of the stairs at the entrance or out in the parking lot. I once saw people out there on a rainy day holding umbrellas.
On Easter Sunday, there was a sizeable group. Today it was a small one; all the seats inside the church weren't filled. Judy was a lector and wanted to sit on the aisle. It's coldest there because you get the breeze coming in the front door, moving right through the building to the open windows in the backroom. I moved over to the wall. That got me out of that draft. I'm sure I will appreciate it more in the hot and humid days of August, September, and October.
I took a nap when I got home. When I got up, I heard Mike say, "Hon?" It was just as if he had come home and was looking for me so we could greet each other. It was an ordinary moment, not a dramatic one. I started to move toward the voice - and remembered.
Judy came over. I had told her that Catholic doctrine has little meaning for me. Judy is a cradle Catholic who left the church for a while and came back to it with enthusiasm. She holds beliefs which I think would be hard for someone who wasn't raised in the faith. I really don't know what beliefs Mike held. Sadly, we never talked about it. I hope he never thought I would put down his beliefs just because I didn't share them.
Judy presented stories and videos of miraculous events. I told her after the first one that her stories had no meaning for me. She tried another one. I finally had to just put a halt to her evangelizing. I told her that I found her approach to sharing her faith stories in hopes that it would ignite a similar feeling in me a painful experience. I am very sensitive to people who want me to like what they like, think what they think so I can be more like them. I had that aplenty in my family of origin. Thanks, but no thanks.
What has come out of this is a deep sensitivity to the boundaries of others when I am in a position to teach or counsel them in any way. I encourage people to tell me if what I have to say has meaning for them. If my intent is to teach someone for their sake, then I'm not going to push my ideas. I have to be sensitive to what they want to learn and if they're ready to learn. Teaching and comedy share the need for knowing your audience and good timing.
After we finished with that discussion, I did some healing on Judy for her nausea, which is caused by the chemotherapy. There clearly is a physical component here, but there is also a psychological component that compounds the original problem.
I developed a procedure for helping people preparing for surgery to reduce stress. It involves the conscious mind informing the nonconscious mind about what would happen during the surgery and its purpose. Our primitive mind never experienced a scalpel. For it, the scalpel is a sharp claw, ripping at its flesh; the anesthesia is a poison that can kill us, and the intubation tube is someone trying to cut off our air supply. Most surgical procedures can be confused with torture. To calm the nonconscious mind, I have the conscious mind speak to the nonconscious mind directly and explain each of these procedures and the intentions behind them. It is essential for the nonconscious mind to understand these intentions and that these procedures are administered in controlled ways. It is a little like explaining it to a child who also is unfamiliar with these procedures. It may sound remarkable to you, but in fact, this works. With Judy, we worked on communicating to her nonconscious mind the purpose of the high level of toxicity in her body from the chemotherapy. This should at least reduce stress; with any hope, it will reduce her nausea as well.
Damon called twice while Judy and I were busy. I tried to call him back when we were finished. He said he wouldn't answer if he busy working with August to complete a video for his Spanish class. I sat down to work on the blog. I am determined to catch up. I'm making a few changes in how I work on it. In the past, if I hit a section that seemed difficult, I would drop everything a play FreeCell. Now, I look for a passage that looks easy for me and work on that one. Then when I get back to the more difficult one; then, I have some ideas about how to write it. I'm also working at night more instead of watching TV and cataloging. These strategies will serve me well when I am working on Mike's book and my book.
I called the lady from church again, who also lost her longtime partner, who is considerably more distressed than I am. Again, she didn't answer. I hope she is all right.
I realize how fortunate I am in so many ways. I couldn't be better situated to cope with the loss of Mike. Those who have to deal with a prolonged illness have it much worse, be it from cancer or dementia, anything that requires someone to be a hands-on caretaker without a great deal of help. Those five weeks in the hospital on Oahu when I was sitting there 8 hours a day with no life of my own except when writing the blog, I became even more attached to Mike. I poured love into him. If there had been a long period of home care while I waited for him to die, I would have been even more attached, and my life would have been severely contracted. Even in the hospital, I was not the only person responsible for his care, seeing that he was fed, bathed, turned, and all his physical and psychological needs attended to. Also, I wasn't isolated. I must have met at least 10 new people a day. Then I didn't go home to an empty house; I was staying at the ashram, which provided its own social simulation and support. Because Mike had such a large footprint on the Big Island and all through Hawaii because of the diaconate, he provided me with connections that sustain me now. Even Judy, who has proved to be an invaluable friend, I met through Mike. She was in his Bible study class. My financial situation is far from dire, and I seem to be attracting people now who are willing to pay me for my tutoring and healing services, which makes me more secure.
I have a lovely home, a life routine that suits me, a dog, and Yvette and Josh to watch over me. I must be the luckiest position possible for having just lost my loving life partner. I should also mention that that loving life partner has left me a much stronger person than when he found me. Mike relished my strengths. He loved it when he saw me become more secure and more competent. From the beginning, I never felt that Mike would limit me in any way. There were ways I felt limited, but that didn't come from Mike. That came from my own history. Yes, in some way, I appreciate the new freedom. I enjoyed being alone when he was away for one weekend a month. But I also know that I could have had that freedom if he had lived. He celebrated my successes. What a loss he is, my one-man cheering squad.
He used to tell me I was beautiful and he loved me every day. At the beginning of our relationship, he insisted that I was objectively the most beautiful woman in the world. I was delighted with his flawed perspective on my looks, but claiming that everyone else saw me as he did was just too much for me. I can handle only so much insanity. He finally toned it down to claiming I was just beautiful to him. He loved my face. As I look at photographs of myself now, I find myself thinking, "Maybe I was fairly good-looking." I find I like my own face. Maybe I have absorbed him into myself now that he is gone. I hope this works out for me.
My mother thought being a loving, caring parent meant dealing out a constant flow of criticism. I still sometimes hear her voice in my head. Mike found me a good enough partner. He delighted in me as I did in him. I don't so much hear his voice as I have a general sense of well-being. God is in His heaven and all's right with the world. My time with him was a great gift. I was grateful to have him in my life. We didn't do much about birthdays or anniversaries. Instead, we celebrated each other and our union each day. Does that mean there weren't down days or we didn't have differences or outright arguments? Don't be ridiculous. We didn't stop being human beings, but the positive experiences vastly outnumbered the negative, uncomfortable ones. We were two fortunate people. No, I don't think it was all luck. We were prepared to seek individual and marriage counseling if there was an unresolvable glitch in our relationship. God, I loved my life with that man.
When I feel sad, it's mostly for what he suffered only to die in the end. Or, when I think about all the things that would bring him joy that he can no longer experience. So far, I haven't felt sad for myself. I can't imagine that won't come with time. If others can ride it out, I'm sure I will too.
My cell phone posted a video from December 2017. Mike and I were at St. Steven's for a diaconate weekend and Christmas party. It was the weekend we picked up Elsa from the breeder in Honolulu. We thought we would pick her up at the end of the weekend, but then Kathy Coughlin said, "Sure, bring her here." We did. There were shots of Mike walking Elsa, lying in bed with Elsa. Those two bonded immediately. She made him so happy.
I finally made contact with Damon and had a lovely chat. He's been making a point of calling once a week, usually on Sundays. At one point, when I tried to call him back, he was talking to his other mother, the one that gave birth to him. I guess this is the day of the week he takes care of us. I'll take it.
Cylin told me a dream she had about Mike. She was visiting me in Hawaii and helping me set up my blog. She went to sit in the reclining chair that Mike preferred, but decided against it because she thought it might be disrespectful. She heard Mike's voice saying it would be fine if she sat there. I came out on the lanai and found her crying. She assured me they were tears of joy.
I did have a question about the blog for Cylin. She is a published author of several young adult books and one children's book. I love her writing. Whenever a book of hers came out, I always gave a copy to the middle school librarian at Licking Heights. She told me Cylin's books were always checked out, and they were some of her favorites, too. (She writes under the name of Cylin Busby). She maintains a website and a blog. I was wondering how to present the material. Should the last entry be at the bottom or at the top as it is now in the emails I send out? She said the format I am using is the preferred one. I suppose I can easily format it both ways without too much fuss. That way, people don't have to read through over 200 pages backward if they want to read the whole thing.
Damon recommended some videos: Ricky Gervais in After Life and Fosse/Verdon. I saw a preview of After Life. I think I can enjoy that. I would love to see Fosse/Verdon. I love his choreography, but I can't find a way to view it. We ended our TV subscription to saved money and protect ourselves from channel surfing.
I did more work on the blog and took Elsa for the final walk of the evening. I went to bed and then said, "Goodnight, Elsa. Goodnight, Mike."
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