Reflections from Jen (No New News)
Last night I was kept up by dental pain. Unpleasant though it was, it also gave me some time for reflection.
This has all been so hard to process. I feel like in the space of one week I lost my friend, recovered her, lost her again, and then recovered her again.
It is very difficult to bounce back from that kind of emotional rollercoaster. It has made me confused, angry, cautious, and mostly confused.
Although I am the type of person who is frequently subject to depression, I am not often despondent, and I am not now.
After I posted yesterday, I had much pause.
I can hear something in the distance, something pressing against the air. I think of my own life: firstborn son having Group Strep B, requiring a ventilator and Neonatal Intensive Care. Fast forward nine years to that son being hit for a car and left by the side of the road, only to walk out of the hospital one day later.
Second son, still not talking at age four. The experts shaking their heads piteously at the poor mother in denial who insisted that there is nothing wrong with his intelligence. They whisper words like fragile X. Now, at age 7, he thrives in first grade, reads Garfield incessantly, and we can’t shut him up.
Third son, age five weeks, spent five days in the hospital with RSV. He went from being unconsious from dehydration to being kicked out of pre-school for refusing to nap, and is one of the most beautiful, affectionate, obnoxious little boys on the planet.
Then, there was Sarah, beautiful Sarah. We were all so scared for Sarah, and yet I could feel the love, thick in the air, heavy with prayer. Why was it so much easier to hope for Sarah, who also walked away from very possible death?
Then, three months later, to find myself in the hospital, told first definitively that I had blood clots in my lungs, only to walk out of Boone Hospital, the same hospital where Linda lies now, with a prescription for anti-biotics and a diagnosis of pneumonia. The doctors are still unsure of what really happened to me.
And then there are the messages of hope coming in from everywhere; the most moving and surprising to me came from the blog of someone I often think of as perhaps more cynical and realistic than I:
Linda, I admire your courage and hope that it grows with each passing day – secret St. Louis mystics are sending Reiki guides and energy to help you in this infinite time of need - language is at times an albatross when it comes to energy. While there is life there is hope. Were I in your shoes I would do everything in my power to live as I was able. Romantic visions of a quiet passing are fucked - fight woman.
Fight, woman.
I get so caught up in wondering how a miracle could take place: did I forget one of the most miraculous events I have ever heard of in my life? In the twenties, Niels Bohr performed experiments with electrons: He fired electrons through two small slats in a wall; depending on which opening, upper or lower, that the electrons passed through, they hit the upper or lower part of the final wall that stopped them. So: can you picture a machine that fires electrons, fired through two slats in one wall, to travel through a space, and then stop at a second wall?
Next, he closed the bottom slat; the electrons went through the upper slat and hit the upper portion of the wall.
Next, close the upper slat, and see the electrons pass through the bottom slat, to hit the lower portion of the wall.
Then, just for fun, he fired the electrons through both slats, and after they had passed through the slats, he closed the upper slat. There is no way for the electrons to have known this. Yet, they hit the lower portion of the wall. He tried it again, by closing the lower slat AFTER the electrons had passed. Again. Again. Again.
He determined that observation determines reality.
Here is my observation for you, Linda Bindner: you have endured surgeries to repair your heart. You beat the odds to have a healthy baby girl. Hell, you even beat the odds by having this stroke. Who is to say that you cannot do it again? Again. Again.
You are loved across the nation. Across the nation, people are sending electrons to you, sending love and prayers that are whispered on the wind and carried to you, messages of love to buoy you up.
Just like the beating of a thousand tiny wings, we are sending you our love and our hope, like a thousand tiny birds, we will grasp your garments in our tiny beaks and pull you up, and we will hold you and sustain you. Our electrons will fuse with yours and you will feel and speak and move.
Fight, woman, fight.
Last night I was kept up by dental pain. Unpleasant though it was, it also gave me some time for reflection.
This has all been so hard to process. I feel like in the space of one week I lost my friend, recovered her, lost her again, and then recovered her again.
It is very difficult to bounce back from that kind of emotional rollercoaster. It has made me confused, angry, cautious, and mostly confused.
Although I am the type of person who is frequently subject to depression, I am not often despondent, and I am not now.
After I posted yesterday, I had much pause.
I can hear something in the distance, something pressing against the air. I think of my own life: firstborn son having Group Strep B, requiring a ventilator and Neonatal Intensive Care. Fast forward nine years to that son being hit for a car and left by the side of the road, only to walk out of the hospital one day later.
Second son, still not talking at age four. The experts shaking their heads piteously at the poor mother in denial who insisted that there is nothing wrong with his intelligence. They whisper words like fragile X. Now, at age 7, he thrives in first grade, reads Garfield incessantly, and we can’t shut him up.
Third son, age five weeks, spent five days in the hospital with RSV. He went from being unconsious from dehydration to being kicked out of pre-school for refusing to nap, and is one of the most beautiful, affectionate, obnoxious little boys on the planet.
Then, there was Sarah, beautiful Sarah. We were all so scared for Sarah, and yet I could feel the love, thick in the air, heavy with prayer. Why was it so much easier to hope for Sarah, who also walked away from very possible death?
Then, three months later, to find myself in the hospital, told first definitively that I had blood clots in my lungs, only to walk out of Boone Hospital, the same hospital where Linda lies now, with a prescription for anti-biotics and a diagnosis of pneumonia. The doctors are still unsure of what really happened to me.
And then there are the messages of hope coming in from everywhere; the most moving and surprising to me came from the blog of someone I often think of as perhaps more cynical and realistic than I:
Linda, I admire your courage and hope that it grows with each passing day – secret St. Louis mystics are sending Reiki guides and energy to help you in this infinite time of need - language is at times an albatross when it comes to energy. While there is life there is hope. Were I in your shoes I would do everything in my power to live as I was able. Romantic visions of a quiet passing are fucked - fight woman.
Fight, woman.
I get so caught up in wondering how a miracle could take place: did I forget one of the most miraculous events I have ever heard of in my life? In the twenties, Niels Bohr performed experiments with electrons: He fired electrons through two small slats in a wall; depending on which opening, upper or lower, that the electrons passed through, they hit the upper or lower part of the final wall that stopped them. So: can you picture a machine that fires electrons, fired through two slats in one wall, to travel through a space, and then stop at a second wall?
Next, he closed the bottom slat; the electrons went through the upper slat and hit the upper portion of the wall.
Next, close the upper slat, and see the electrons pass through the bottom slat, to hit the lower portion of the wall.
Then, just for fun, he fired the electrons through both slats, and after they had passed through the slats, he closed the upper slat. There is no way for the electrons to have known this. Yet, they hit the lower portion of the wall. He tried it again, by closing the lower slat AFTER the electrons had passed. Again. Again. Again.
He determined that observation determines reality.
Here is my observation for you, Linda Bindner: you have endured surgeries to repair your heart. You beat the odds to have a healthy baby girl. Hell, you even beat the odds by having this stroke. Who is to say that you cannot do it again? Again. Again.
You are loved across the nation. Across the nation, people are sending electrons to you, sending love and prayers that are whispered on the wind and carried to you, messages of love to buoy you up.
Just like the beating of a thousand tiny wings, we are sending you our love and our hope, like a thousand tiny birds, we will grasp your garments in our tiny beaks and pull you up, and we will hold you and sustain you. Our electrons will fuse with yours and you will feel and speak and move.
Fight, woman, fight.
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