What I Learned from Gamma This Time

I've been bogged down in my writing for three weeks now, first by the aftermath of the procedure itself--it's always a more fun time during the procedure, I ruefully remember as the drugs wear off; and then by my inability to tell any of the things that happened that were so clear and poignant to me, but would've sounded like voodoo, or outright cuckoo, to some of you. My birthday post, which I felt was funny enough, in a deep indigo way, elicited, aside from two brave souls, crickets by way of response. I felt comforted by the image, of being protected in my life by my death. But perhaps that wasn't true of everyone.

I'm a storyteller, and I've been having problems writing the specifics about how I believed your visualization was assisting me in this latest journey through the Western Medical Industrial Complex. I was trying to use colorful language to dress up what were, at the root of it, just boring facts. This happened, and then this happened, and then this. Or just boring complete fabrications, depending on your views of the world and how it works.

The point is that the meaning, in this case, wasn't in the journey, but, instead, was in the destination. The point--and the meaning--is that you all helped me make a choice to live my life by a new set of standards, and in a new framework. Your friendship, and your willing responses to my request, and your faith in me--that gave me the courage to change my mind about how my world works.

I can't think of a better gift. 

Thank you.