Scream
It hurts, sometimes. Remembering those you've lost, those who died too soon or lingered too long in pain. Thinking of them in better times helps on occasion. Fingering photographs, listening to their favorite songs and hugging the shirt that still faintly holds their scent. Sure, it's been years, but in your mind - in your heart - the aroma is as yesterday. That's all that matters, after all. You close your eyes and they're walking through the door, smiling and laughingly reaching for you. Your mother, your father, your sibling ... your husband or your wife ... your child.
It hurts, sometimes. Knowing you'll be lost, too soon to make the difference you dreamed of as a youngster but begging not to linger too long. Not too much pain, please, you've had enough. Thinking of better times helps on occasion. The beach, the woods, the beauty of the world with the ones you've loved. The simple postcard from long ago, when you missed your Dad. The phone call that still echoes in your ear from yesterday ... or last year? No matter, it will all go with you when it's time.
It hurts, sometimes. Understanding that you've done the best that you can - all that you can, and then some more. But your loved one is sick and you're helpless. Your body is weak, your mind is suffering. There is no one who can afford to help, even though your family has sold everything and your friends are crying with you. It's your love, laying in that bed, that counts. You go to work, you pay your taxes as you always have. You wish for better medical care while you wade through the tide of bills. Never ending, all consuming. Well, not really. What consumes you is the knowledge that your love is dying - and so are you. Slowly, consistantly ... quietly. And all you want to do is scream.
It hurts, sometimes.
So scream, people. Don't stop, don't ever stop. But don't just scream into the deafness of the atmosphere - make your voice heard. The slightest whisper can be heard if others are forced to listen. You know about the single-payer healthcare rally in DC a week from Thursday (July 30). Donate. Please. I beg of you, if you can't go yourself donate what you can to send others in your stead. For all of those we've loved and lost ... and all of those that can be saved. Scream.
Thank you. As always, you manage to take fear, despair, and anger and turn it around into something better.
For all of us. It's time.
July 21, 2009 8:06 AM | Reply | Permalink
You do have a way w/ words, my dearest. Keep talking. We need to hear what you have to say.
July 21, 2009 9:35 AM | Reply | Permalink
You have no idea how close to home this is for me, Missy. I've been doing quite a lot of screaming lately, in general, and in the direction of my senators.
July 21, 2009 9:42 AM | Reply | Permalink
A beautiful woman I know -- as beautiful in spirit as in face and form -- is dying at 56. A designer by profession, and an artist in living. Someone who makes the world a more beautiful place, every day, for everyone she knows.
A non-smoker, non-drinker, D. took every preventive measure known to man: eating only organic foods, exercising, balancing her physical regimen with an ongoing study of spiritual inspiration. And laughter, always laughter, emanating from a wry wit that sees things as they are, but sees the humor anyway.
However, after her divorce -- the friendliest and most forgiving I have ever witnessed -- she was denied individual insurance thanks to the "pre-existing condition" of a congenital heart defect. So she paid, out-of-pocket, for annual mammograms, pap tests, etc.. continuing to live "clean" and "think healthy" to keep such costs to a minimum.
Cancer did not choose to attack any parts of her person for which there were annual tests that could be afforded by writing a check.
Diagnosed in March with a terminal prognosis, today she enters a hospice.
Scream. Scream for D.
July 21, 2009 9:57 AM | Reply | Permalink
She'll be in our hearts and our thoughts, Wendy, as will you. She's a shining example of doing everything right and still experiencing the depths of everything that is wrong.
Thank you for sharing her story. And yes - we should all scream for D. and everyone else who needs our voices.
July 21, 2009 4:01 PM | Reply | Permalink
Thank you, Missy, with all my heart, for responding to D's personal story.
There are so many that are similar. There will be so many more.
I don't know about you, but I feel as if I have awakened from a dream to a nightmare; I have been asleep at the switch -- either not grasping, or simply refusing to accept that there is NO safety net in America anymore, for anyone who did not follow a narrow path, narrowly defined, within the mainstream. (Or at least there is not one that does not require self-abasement and abnegation to qualify for crumbs, as you pointed out so poignantly yesterday.)
Missy -- what you write always gets to the essence of what matters. Allusively, poetically. You have the gift of screaming, softly, with focused intent.
Sign me up for your seminar on same.
July 21, 2009 4:47 PM | Reply | Permalink
I could scream because I cannot meet you in Paris. And I was too embarrassed to say so. If I was well I could go but it will never be possible. So the metaphoric Paris will have to do for many of us. I am sorry.
I can scream even though I have health insurance and even though there are others much worse off and sicker than me. I grow tired of screaming but I am trying to keep it up anyway. So many people are hurting now and my tears flow for them. My tears are for your friend, D. and you, and for Rowan and for Bwak and for barefooted and so many others here that are beautiful human beings and who are hurting.
Thank you to barefooted for this experience. I donated for the HealthCARE roadtrip to DC but it is not enough. Please dear people, help if you can.
July 21, 2009 7:45 PM | Reply | Permalink
Strato -- a metaphoric meeting in Paris is not only enough, but grand, n'est pas?
I am so grateful to have encountered you, here, even though a blogosphere. Yours is a mighty heart and a wicked wit, the combination of which is not only heart-wrenching but also unquenchable.
We survive, eh? And do more than maintain. We strife to transcend our limitations, and to bring joy in this moment. (Well, at least you and Barefooted bring joy; I bring sand to the oyster in hope that a pearl may burnish.)
Thank you, Strato, for your scream, for D, and for those like her.
July 21, 2009 8:24 PM | Reply | Permalink
Thank you so very, very much for this. For your words, your compassion and your hope for all of us. Keep screaming - it's needed now more than ever.
July 21, 2009 8:28 PM | Reply | Permalink
Oh, your story is heartbreaking. Beautifully written, yet it must be so hard for you. She honors you with her courage and her friendship. You honor her by keeping her story alive.
Our work on this is so important. We'll keep it going for you and for D and for everyone who struggles against a system so cruel, so unfair, it can't possibly be the American way.
July 21, 2009 11:08 PM | Reply | Permalink
Missy, it is so good to see you so busy here. Honestly.
Give em hell!!!!!!!
July 21, 2009 10:20 AM | Reply | Permalink
You fight a better fight than most of us, Missy. For that, and much more, thank you.
July 21, 2009 10:35 AM | Reply | Permalink
Just me and my big mouth, that's all. ;)
July 21, 2009 4:10 PM | Reply | Permalink
Powerful post Missy. Thank you:)
July 21, 2009 5:24 PM | Reply | Permalink
I hope it helps to raise awareness, voices ... and donations.
July 21, 2009 6:17 PM | Reply | Permalink
Bravo!
Very compelling, moving post.
July 21, 2009 10:04 PM | Reply | Permalink
Beautiful blog, Barefoot. There is so much screaming to do, each in our way but all together now.
We WILL make a difference.
July 21, 2009 11:01 PM | Reply | Permalink
Yes we can.
July 21, 2009 11:26 PM | Reply | Permalink