copyright 2017 Chris Smith All rights reserved.
"Sometimes when you get knocked down it's best to use the time strategizing on how to get back up again."
It was a "pack-it-up-and-get-out" kind of morning with a visit to the Doc's before they closed for the Holidays. I might be holding my breath through the entire Holiday until they opened their office back up too. I'd be hoping that nothing would go wrong with Mom. Perhaps. Possibly. For sure.
Mom was always the first to get worked on when we went to the Doc's. She was the worst case and the one at risk of death.
The Doc found out what was causing her the recent pain. So he tested her for some new pills to help her digestive system. I was thankful it wasn't anything major.
Then the Doc took me into another room while Dad did cold laser therapy on Mom.
Emotions were the first things to come up. Not structural or infections. Surprise. Surprise.
First up, was the stomach.
"Hold your forehead", the Doc said as he went through the emotional testing chart and read out loud the emotions related to the stomach meridian.
"Despair," the Doc said.
And my arm dropped.
"No issues there Doc," I said sarcastically.
"When you think of despair, happening now, with your Mom, what comes to mind?" the Doc asked.
"That she's declining," I said in a whisper.
Then the tears came. Right on cue. Fucking tears.
The Doc reached over and grabbed some Kleenex and handed it to me.
"Okay. Hold your forehead and here," the Doc said as he put my other hand on my stomach.
I turned around.
"Think of it. Despair. Your Mom not getting better," the Doc said.
The Doc moved the roller up and down my spine while I breathed deeply in and out.
"Okay," the Doc said.
I turned back around to face him so he could check me again and make sure I had cleared despair. Then he tested me again for emotions, and the gallbladder came up. Hopelessness.
"When you think of your Mom and hopelessness, happening now?" the Doc asked.
"That she's withering away and we can't stop it," I said.
He tested my arm. It dropped.
"Okay, hold your forehead and here," the Doc said putting my other hand on my gallbladder.
I turned around again and he repeated the process with the roller on my spine while I breathed deeply.
"Think of it. Hopelessness with your Mom," the Doc said.
Then he checked me again to make sure I had cleared hopelessness, which I had. Last to come up on the emotional shut-down list was the kidneys, with "feelings of shame".
"When you think of feelings of shame and your Mom what comes to mind?" the Doc asked.
"That I couldn't stop it. That I wasn't strong enough to stop it," I said.
More tears. Fucking Hell.
It wasn't until he asked me the questions that I was emotional. As if he was shining light in the darkness where I hid my pain. But it wasn't just that he was pointing it out with a spotlight. No. He was also asking the pain to come forward. He was asking him to give it a voice.
I had to bring my oblivious conscious mind into my subconscious and touch the pain. It was the slightest touch. I might as well be immersing my soul in lava because that's how it felt. There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide from the truth of how I felt at the core of my being. I couldn't sugar coat it. I couldn't ignore it anymore. And that, was the hardest thing of all to swallow.
"Okay. Hold your forehead and put your hand here," the Doc said as he put my hand over my kidney.
I turned around.
"Think of feelings of shame and your Mom," the Doc said.
For the last time today, I brought the weight of it all on me. I stood there in the pain and breathed. Deeply. As the Doc rolled up and down my spine.
I turned back around he checked me. I was cleared. The load on my back was minus a few more bricks, at least for a little bit.
By the time we arrived home, we were all exhausted. But it had been a day well spent.
CARING BRIDGE UPDATE
Days Juicing: 92
Our blog is live, along with our Family List of Needs. We have also included each of our individual Amazon Wishlists (which does include some additional needs, and some things we just want), at the bottom of the Needs list. Help or don't, it's entirely up to you.
Mom had a recent visit to our Chiropractor to get checked out before their office closes for the Holidays. She's doing a little better. She'd been having an issue with an upset digestive system, that seemed to coincide with the juices. It was causing her pain, and made it nearly impossible to sleep at night, which meant Dad didn't sleep much either. So we started giving her digestive enzymes with the juices, and has helped her system settle down. We've been very fortunate that Mom has not experienced a lot of pain.
Our Chiropractor had several "side-bar" talks with my Dad and I, trying to prepare us in case Mom takes a turn for the worse. Not sure if one can ever truly be prepared for that scenario, emotionally.
He said we should be thankful and recognize that Mom is still alive, that we've helped give her an amazing chance to heal with the course of action we've chosen, and that it's been a gift the time we've been able to share with her because we DID NOT put her through chemo, radiation, etc.
The hospital has their prediction, but as far as we know, there isn't anyone on the planet who can predict Mom's outcome, with absolute certainty. And we're not buying into to anyone who thinks they can. :)
We still hope and strive for a complete recovery and healing.
My brother is coming up for a short visit over the Holidays, which will be nice for all of us, and especially for he and Mom.
Some days, my heart feels like it's been ripped out of my chest and put on a cold slab. And some days, I feel like even fire couldn't kill me. Such is life.
I'm still uploading more photos on Mom's Flickr site.
If I don't post again, before the Holidays, Happy Holidays to you and yours! We thank you for all your support, love, prayers, and kindness, and wish you all a very blessed Holiday Season and joyous 2013!
Blessings to you and yours,
Juice Day 92
5 leaves collard greens
7 beet green leaves
1 tablespoon ginger root
2 large carrots
1 ½ stalks of celery
¼ cup pineapple
YOU ARE READING
A HARD RUN INTO HELL Book 4 (EDITING) is the juice worth the squeeze seriesNon-Fiction
I was standing in Hell, burning. I looked over to see my Dad, standing right next to me. He was burning too. We had brought my Mom home from the hospital and care facility, after being diagnosed with Stage 3 cancer and decided not to do chemo, ag...