Food for Colin

August 31, 2023

See previous four posts.

All sorts of different kinds of food, including energetic.

See new post on Colin Cudmore’s caring bridge site. I just put it up. Heading back to Indy in a few minutes.

Obviously, I don’t have time or, especially, energy, for anything else right now.

Re: food from the material world: This morning I got up early enough to make him some applesauce with green apples, for the bromelain that results, an anti-inflammatory. We aren’t trying to do anything non-allopathic, e.g. homeopathy, until he is released from this extremely technical and continuously fine-tuned medical drama, with all sorts of meds they use both by mouth and injected. What we do have is the ability to bring him food, heart-healthy food that also tastes good; by his new standards, ANYTHING we bring tastes “delicious!” despite not including sodium or any kind of fat. His cousin Meg, a healer herself, said to bring the homemade applesauce; he had asked for rice with tiny pieces of liver (all organ meats good! even better would be kidneys, if we could find some locally). Liver helps with detoxifying all the drugs. So we brought that too.

We were feeding him by hand, until a nurse came in and said, very abruptly: “What’cha’ doin! You need to feed yourself!” Hilarious. We had no idea. Nor did he. But we were keeping him down by not asking him to feed himself, when he can!

She told us that a PT told her about having ICU patients feed themselves, if possible, because that’s the way they both relearn, and gather strength and flexibility. Duh!

 

Perspectives on son Colin’s Catastrophe . . .

August 29, 2023

 

 

We’ve experienced the first two . . . Let’s hope we’re now part way through the third!

Odd, how the “new normal” keeps blasting open into something yet more enlightening/catastrophic!

I’m speaking about what I do manage to keep up with via Telegram and X-sites; and I’m speaking about the ongoing continuously fissioning, harrowing drama endured by my son Colin in an Indianapolis hospital.

 

I’ve dealt with a lot of catastrophic situations in my own lifetime, usually involving myself — I think of especially three strange, out-of- the-blue, dog confrontations that felt like demonic energies suddenly aiming to take me over, take me down . . . for each episode I had to draw upon superhuman adrenal energy both during and afterwards, that took many weeks to replenish.

Then there were repeated hospital emergencies involving two of my husbands . . . all dramatic tales, and again, the  sudden hyper-alert super clear shocky attitude that accompanies them .  . .

But all of them pale in comparison with the continuous, mutating catastrophic agony my son is undergoing after his aorta delaminated and the sudden blood loss affected not just heart, but kidneys (killing one of them, compromising the other), and legs, feet. At this point he’s effectively paralyzed. The docs don’t think he will get his legs back. He, rightly, refuses to believe them. But meanwhile, he’s got to get that one kidney working again, and this takes multiple, many-hour dialysis sessions, each of which is proving to be extremely painful, leaving him wondering if he can make it through, says the pain is so bad he might die during the session. “Not that I’m afraid to die, he repeats, over and over; it’s just that I’m not done here!”

Then there’s me, undergoing this seemingly endless, rapidly mutating experience at the advanced age of 80! How to continue to replenish energy at this age and yet be present for Colin meantime?

Much different than when I was younger and had excess energy. Now my energy is carefully cultivated, on a daily basis, with those two hours of “physical culture” I’ve probably mentioned here (many times?): one hour walking with dog (3-4 miles), another hour of yoga, chikung, taichi). From a young age I’ve known that the body is primary; that without a functioning body, I will turn into a parasite. Don’t want that. Refuse to become that.

Very grateful son Sean is here with me, for this soulful drama that takes more from us than we ever knew we had, and has turned us into a team, all three of us, Colin, Sean, and Mom.

Sean drove to Indy this morning without me. I need this day to replenish energy.

Here’s a pic of me and Colin in late 1987. While dervish twirling during a celebration of the Harmonic Convergence in August, “the voice” had boomed out, in no uncertain terms, “YOU MUST FINISH YOUR PERSONAL KARMA BY THE END OF THE YEAR.”

After much rumination, and planning, I flew from Wyoming to Boston. My own mother had agreed to accompany me on this journey. First I had to meet with the father Patrick, to clear karma with him (spending five hours across the table, while he unloaded his bitterness, minute by minute; rather than taking it in, was able to help him unload it); this freed me up to see Sean, who also lived in the area. Then I went to D.C., and Colin. Thus did I finally meet up with both my sons again after six long years. THE most crucial trip of my long long life.