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Rehearsal Of The Dying

“And you, my father, there on the sad height, 
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray. 
Do not go gentle into that good night. 
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”  Dylan Thomas
*For My Father.

I had a dream.
I was sitting in a hospital bed with my bones exposed, stripped of my clothes and nurses sticking their gloved opinions into me.
X-ray scripts all around, telling a story of why I was there, my body, my pain.

There was a massive contusion and fractured on both sides of my neck, right above my clavicle.
The Head Nurse said that those injuries can only come from someone trying to hang themselves.

My Mother and father ran out of the darken hospital room, screaming at me.
Nurses followed with questions.
My mother kept repeating
“I don’t care. If she wants to hurt herself, then she is not my daughter.”
My father grunting, agreeing.
Looking back and saying, they are not coming back for me.

I was ripping off the Monitor wires, the leads, the EKG Tabs, yelling without anyone listening.
I did not try to hurt myself.
These are not my Scans, my Pictures.
I am sick. Physically sick.
Someone help me.
My Hospital gown torn as I tried so hard to escape the white bed, as my parents were leaving down on the Hospital elevators.

As the dream lines were ending as consciousness slowly rose, I could still hear my mother’s screams.

I laid still in my own bed with my real 30 Day Heart Monitor remembering why I would dream those dreams.

Since March 30, 2015, I have been sick with unknown causes until recent diagnoses.
Severe Gastroparesis.
Severe Dysautonomia (Unknown. further testing needed).
But, during these past months of hell, my Mother did not believe me that I was ill.
It must be psychological, stress related.
And, now my Father has abandoned his presence in my life because I had a
Fundraiser so I would not be Evicted
(Not being able to Work for 2 Months and not realizing my separated Husband was not paying the rent left me in desperation.
Something, I never had to deal with on a financial level).

So, now I suppress my loneliness with my declining health and live all of this in the dying of the light.

image

“This time they all heard
Forever sick
I bridle all my rage
They won’t let me cry
We’ll never hear them calling
They don’t understand
But I’m near my final parade
They see us failing
They can’t buy our health now
They want us to rehearse
And keep us in our cage.”


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