AYDA
AYDA
© ARC March 21, 2015
It was sudden…her face strained…pleading look. Please, would you pray for my daughter. She is having her foot amputated! The shock/horror! I opened my arms; we hugged.. I promised her I would…she went one way, I the other.
It happened at the park behind the house my daughter bought. I now lived with her. I was no stranger to horror. I once had a home; in fact two…but lost them and so much more the previous year, 2006. They were used as shelters for the homeless. I had borrowed equity on one in the West Coast that had been in legacy trust for my two children with their permission to buy another on the East Coast.
Phenomenal networking had preceded to social services, religious and nonprofit groups via phone, electronic and postal mail outs. Information was clear: I had worked with the homeless for nigh on two decades and had the opportunity to open one in their area. I did this under a nonprofit that I founded without government subsidy relying solely on self-labor efforts and Samaritan tax-deductible donations. A free board/care week was provided, then donations of $100.00 a week usually subsidized by welfare general relief, disability benefits, or employment. I was explicit: no referrals of those with a violent history. I explained I had no help; didn’t even have a vehicle. The need was great. Expectations were high for the research previously done indicated there was a tremendous need for helping homeless veterans.
I had been there for only a month and a half. Something was definitely wrong. House should have been filled. A representative from local charity along with volunteer came by after receiving invitation. I was alerted to the politics that a local judge had secured a building. Most referrals went there. The local Veterans administrators too visited. They also were not encouraging. I was getting desperate eagerly awaiting the holidays for my Kimosabe friend who had helped me move would be visiting. He promised to take me to network in person.
My daughter was due the third week in December. Under the tree for her was a safety gift: pepper spray. She too had a solo lifestyle; work kept her constantly on the road oftentimes at night.
And that is what we did, my Kimosabe and I - immediately went to Social Services. I thought it was very strange that we were kept waiting for over a half hour. As we got to the offices, there were at least five workers none of whom looked busy. But, the visit was pleasant enough. I had gone bearing gifts. This was a custom of mine: whenever anyone ever came to my home a little gift was presented - usually just a $1.00 candle and/or picture frame - something to remember the moment by.
I was big on this. I called them: Magic Moments and Memories. The nonprofit name, Association Renaissance Creators, is symbolic: we all associate with each other in a renaissance new creative way. So, if I was meeting new people in their environment, I did the same thing. I had walked the neighborhood a few weeks after arrival, dropping gifts off with a note introducing myself/ARC.
Sure enough, as we made the rounds, meetings seemed very positive. Yet, once again, one woman, who I was told was a key active volunteer in the community, warned me saying the politics were heavily against me.
Needless to say, I was tremendously encouraged when just a few days later I received a call from Social Worker: they had two prospects.
I interviewed each by phone; seemed perfect. One was hard of hearing and needed temporary refuge; another was a recovering addict and dyslexic. Both were young. A few days later, we went out again to make the rounds. When I got back, was told a social worker had called and sounded very anxious.
I called the number; and too heard an urgency…could she bring young man down immediately. The grandfather would come along too.
They came…I felt something odd, but immediately dismissed it. The social worker seemed so grateful, as did the grandfather. There was no overt reason for concern.
A few days went by; everything seemed to be going well. I had even given the three of them a cursory piano board reading music lesson. I gave my dyslexic one a reading lesson. I called Social Services; thanked them profusely for sending them - expressing eagerness to fill the home.
A few days later he attacked one man, than came after me: 42 stab wounds. I was in a coma for two months. He, white - 23 - Catholic raised, is now serving time: 15 years for two counts of attempted murder. When asked why, he responded: My father is Satin you know.
I survived through God’s grace. I had many metaphysical experiences: one in particular was very poignant. I believed I heard my mother calling me and saying one word: Names. After I came too and began to piece everything together, I came to the conclusion: I am allowed to live to increase `names’ to my already very long prayer list. My previous multi tasking very active involvement would now be focused on being a prayer warrior, writing and publishing, juxtaposed with meeting very special people.
The first year I lived with my daughter at her one bedroom apartment. She had an independent carefree lifestyle. She wanted me to have her bedroom; I refused and slept on the couch. I still do to this day. The couch in the family room gives me a swaddling feeling and greater sense of security with two exits.
The next year she bought a home with the primary goal to love and keep me safe, in a neighborhood where I could walk to my favorite places: church, park, library, local shopping center.
An emotional support animal was donated to me…I loved her name: Penny. How apt that our coins state: In God We Trust. My daughter though said she was even more significant for the reason of donation was she had bitten her owner while breaking up fight between Penny and new mate’s dog who had just come into the home. The shelter was facing her if owner couldn’t find a new home. My daughter said only I would chance rehabilitation and forgive as I had forgiven the monster who had attacked me. My daughter didn’t understand, few did, how I was praying for him to regain his soul back from evil. The dog was innocent…easier than the man to understand. All these years, each and every single day, at top of prayer list was petition for him to regain his soul. I learned not too long ago that his name was on a prison ministry. My prayers answered.
Now on this day I was at God’s nature park church. Monday through Friday I walked to 6:00 a.m. mass but on Saturday’s - I went with next door neighbors for 5:00 p.m. mass so early morning it was `church park’. I had never seen her before at the park.
One of the first persons I met at mass was in the restroom. She asked if I had a stroke - obvious reference to my face which was quite distorted. I told her briefly what had happened and she commiserated in horror. She, Joan, was a retired military nurse. Then, not too much longer after that, another woman suddenly stopped to give me a ride home. I recognized her too from church. She, Mary, too was a nurse! Then, you’re going to as amazed as I was. I get there by 5:30 before the driveway and walk way gates are opened. At first they used to be locked, and a custodian, Jim used to open. But then, they were just closed, so I opened them. As I got close to the church one day, a woman stopped. I recognized her from church. Yep, Cici, another nurse. I thought it more than curious that `nurses’ were being guided to me.
A few weeks passed and suddenly I saw the woman from the park at early morning mass. She saw me, offered to give me a ride home. I was eager to hear how her daughter was doing. And that’s how it began: a friendship that is now going on a decade…blessed and growing. Yep, she was a nurse too! Her culture Filipino. At one period of our history, the Philippines were a Mecca for nursing vocations. It was a match made in heaven for they were well known for empathy and caring.
http://www.rwjf.org/content/dam/farm/legacy-parents/the-nursing-profession
Alas, with the economic recession, the area has been hard hit.
http://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-18575810
Now, at the time of this writing, there is an upswing again; we are experiencing a shortage of nurses and caretakers.
http://www.aacn.nche.edu/media-relations/fact-sheets/nursing-shortage
But here’s the extra special metaphysical part of the story. My friend told me she never goes to that park where she saw me. She goes to the one closer to her home which was several miles away. She felt a strong impulse to go to that one that particular day where she saw me: we’re both convinced it was `meant to be’!
I still have not met the daughter who is our catalyst. Throughout these years I have agonized with a mother who bears a double burden for as a medical professional, she knows all the medical intricacies that involve her loved one’s well being. The adjustment that Kristen has gone through is miraculous to say the least. In my eyes, she and her mother are modern day saints. One after another, crisis situations have incurred. In addition to a beautiful teenager losing her foot, their lives revolve around that dreaded C word. Modern treatment is at the forefront but there is no guarantee and the reminders are constant. One of Kristen’s best friends was going through parallel treatment. Laura went code blue one day, gone that night. And then she was mentoring a young Down’s Syndrome man who too lost a limb and had Cancer. Jordan too is in the sweet by and by.
Throughout she holds herself with grace; pursues a nursing career, cultivates a rich spiritual life simultaneously enjoying family and friends. Sometimes it is the young who truly are our guiding lights of today.
Now it gets metaphysical for the next part of sharing. One of the most serious academic areas of intimidation for me all my life is the medical profession. I find it even hard to pronounce two syllable terms. When I was a young mother, my children can attest, sickness was abhorrent. The maxim: we are going to the doctor, here’s the chicken soup, watch TV, rest and get well was the order of one who was overwhelmed by illness that I had no control of and such limited knowledge. I had tremendous faith in divine healing through prayer; and trust in those who role modeled to me the best in neighborly love which was primarily nurses. My esteem for them went over the charts when my son was born. It was my first hospital experience back in 1964. The TLC experienced by nurses who were strangers was divine beauty to behold. This was repeated with birth of my daughter, second hospital stay. This service was magnified by me for it truly was one of my weakest characteristics. To think that strangers would choose a profession where they helped people at their weakest and would probably never see them again was wondrous in my eyes.
Shortly after I came out of the coma, while in intensive care, I witnessed event that pierced my mind, heart, soul. The alarm went on that an emergency was coming in. Silently, like stealth sentries, they lined up on either side of the emergency room door. There were at least six of them standing tall ready and alert to face whatever was coming at them. Their training silently animating from every pore of their body…emotion subdued and covered like a light underneath a shade. They reminded me of the angels portrayed at the beginning of the film: City of Angels. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/City_of_Angels_(film)
There were plenty of negatives but that’s in another essay. My focus here is on the positive and how thankful I am that God has blessed me with this angel of mercy as a friend.
What is also fascinating to me is that the medical field was not only mysterious but very intimidating. Slowly as our friendship grew, she would illustrate one medical aspect after another. I discovered I was listening to those incomprehensible words with accelerated alertness and comfort.
How did we get closer? Without fail, at least twice a month, she would show up at morning mass and whisk me away to breakfast. We rotated around to different places: Denny’s, IHOP, Norm’s, and a small Hispanic bistro that was a neighborhood favorite. And how we loved the service. When you are regulars at a place, it is amazing the camaraderie experienced when servers remember you and how you like certain things. For example: I always like water, no ice, with a twist of lemon. She always likes sugarless pancake syrup. Servers who remember the little things make you feel so special. You know the saying: priceless.
She oftentimes was coming off the night shift so my breakfast was her dinner. She never let me pay sensitive to my lilliputian Social Security and SSI. Loving, hard working, dedicated, loyal, filled with faith and love of God were her mantel. There was an added bonus for she too was very liberal, like me. We were the ultimate in religious freedom: both raised so conservatively, both devout, and both independent thinkers.
Her life had stayed traditional; mine had become a labyrinth of metaphysical underpinnings. Instead of traveling geographically, odyssey was in vivo, vicarious, mental, educational, experiential, and spiritual. It was like each person became `a country’ - and I was on an intuition `speed dial’ that attracted and beckoned one new one after another. Growth was so dramatic that it felt like I was unbinding my mind like a traditional Chinese woman let loose the straitjacket molding and shaping her feet. At the time there was sensory enjoyment that is juxtaposed with drinking and parties. In the popular music of the day, I was doing it my way.
As I review my life in twilight years, it is dramatically humbling to acknowledge that `my’ way so often circumnavigated the seven deadly sins. My astonishment at how `smart’ I thought I was for most of my early and later adult life compared to family and religious venerable only to glean bit by bit that their axioms evolved from `tried and true’ histories of universal kith and kin who role modeled a `higher and purer’ way.
The paradox mystery: Déjà vu accompanied me like shadow
throughout life.
I have tried to understand this - ongoing analyzing. Major focused on Psychology for this very reason…desire to understand me/others. My life had pivotal `turning directions’ times…if originally had stayed on what seemed to be familial, religious, education course I probably would be a very conservative married Catholic with large family dedicated to helping local church without higher education and working part time while raising children and then full time after children grown in a blue-collar secretarial job. My values would probably be ultra conservative.
Instead my life is diametrically opposite…and the truth of the matter is that it is the lifestyle I chose over and over again for the grass on this side always seemed greener than the other. And yet, when I see or meet those who went the traditional way like my friend, there is awe, appreciation, and a very deep awareness that for all my `higher awareness academic and spiritual learning’ maybe, just maybe, it was supposed to be the other way.
But, as we all know, there is no way to `turn back’ - so we go forward thanking God for forgiveness and mercy for trespasses that have caused the divine universe, family, friends, kith and kin pain and suffering.
So for whatever reason I am so blessed that God guided to me one who did stay true to the tradition while giving her a generous liberal mind, heart, and soul capable of embracing me and not judging me for the past.
Back in my salad days I had some local fame as a guest lecturer at expos, seminars, and also facilitated adult learning at local colleges and independent educational forums. This had been quite an achievement for me for my in my early educational college days I was lacking self-confidence - had very low self-esteem. There were various factors that led to this affliction, but through the course of divine guidance via Maxwell Maltz’ treasure: Psycho-Cybernetics, this was overcome. I actually had an hypnotherapy practice using his methods. It’s not so much that I missed my `stage’ days as that I was aware with my drooping face, trachea aftermath my voice did not sound the same and speech was garbled, hard to understand. It’s as if she never noticed; and, slowly but surely I was off an running caring/sharing working the facial muscles, following the spirit and I don’t remember when it was that I first became aware, but there was no doubt, speech was clearer, face was smoothing out, charisma back.
I think she is the `best kind of saint on earth’ for she is pious and devout with Christian role modeling traits like the new Pope Francis that exemplifies the best of a Christian nature that loves as self and amplifies the motto: who am I to judge.
One of the talents that we both recognize in each other is spirit guided eloquence. A few years back, my brother third in line passed. His wake was filled with loving family/friends. I gave a moving tribute. My niece said:
I was the best there. Nothing was `planned’ - it was just my heart/soul filled with love. And that’s spirit guidance to us. There’s an awareness that a higher entity is flowing through us as we care and share much like water droplets breaking through sunlight forming a rainbow…it’s the `right combination’ wherein the spirit transforms.
And then somehow, like music always on in the background, the divine essence radiates from us separately and/or even simultaneously.
We discovered another commonality…we both did things to help the homeless. She would put together `help packages’ that included toiletries, clothing. I had a one page resource information sheet that I enclosed in an envelope with a dollar: always kept three on me for I passed homeless park on the way to church. Inevitably by the end of a month would be gone, then would replace with three more. It was she who told me about a new program called HIP…
http://www.gazettes.com/news/homeless-project-takes-to-city-streets/article_c6ae6af0-8a67-11e1-aabb-001a4bcf887a.html
HIP began in February, and organizers said they hope to be fully staffed by
early summer. All in all, they will add about 18 members including
physicians, nurse practitioners, social workers, case managers and
psychiatrists. For the health side of service, HIP will be partnering with The
Children’s Clinic.
During the time that it is funded, officials said they expect to have a
maximum of 100 individuals enrolled for services, with 300 total by the end
of the three years. Currently, there are about 60 referrals for HIP to get
started.
“We will start with the list from the vulnerability study (which was mostly
downtown), but people with homelessness often move around,” Legere said.
“It’s a very specific set of people, so often it takes a while to build a trusting
relationship. There is going to be a lot of people we meet who might not
want to fully engage with us right away.”
The most vulnerable homeless who will be targeted will include people
afflicted with schizophrenia, major depression, affective disorders, diabetes,
STDs, hepatitis, AIDS, cardiopulmonary disease, cancer, hypertension,
cardiovascular disease, respiratory illness, chronic pain and arthritis.
Anyone who knows of someone who might qualify can call the HIP
information and referral line at 285-1330 ext. 266.
“It’s completely mobile, so people don’t have to go to a site, we’ll bring
all these services to them,” Legere said. “That’s what’s unique for this.”
And I told her about
Broken Loaf Food Pantry: Sat: 9 to 11: Free Food & Clothing/Shoe … more
http://www.lakewoodfirstumchurch.com/Broken%20Loaf%20Food%20Pantry674622
4300 Bellflower Blvd., Lakewood 90713 (562) 425-1219
Hawaiian Gardens Food Bank/90716: 21411 Norwalk Blvd. (562) 860-9097
Through the years I loved reading about the role models like a church on the East Coast and one in San Francisco that opens their doors at night and allows the homeless to sleep in their pews.
We both shared admiration for Mother Teresa and Saint Vincent DePaul and thrilled that new Pope Francis for `talking it like it was’… role modeling by encouraging more `walk the talk’ instead of insensitive and un-empathetic judgment.
We both learned a little bit about each other’s culture/background.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Culture_of_the_Philippines
http://www.kwintessential.co.uk/resources/global-etiquette/philippines-country-profile.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sicily
http://www.everyculture.com/multi/Pa-Sp/Sicilian-Americans.html
One of the most interesting facets for me is that she had a brother who was born on my birthday and died…studied to be a seminarian; and my other nurse friend, also from the Philippines, also has a brother born on April 17th.
Carl Jung’s http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Synchronicity theory on Synchronicity holds that these events are meaningful coincidences.
You see, there’s something extra special about that date. There is a theory that it might be a more accurate date for Christmas.
http://www.eclipse.net/~molnar/
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chronology_of_Jesus
1. Chronology of Jesus - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
For example, astronomer Michael Molnar identified April 17, ... a b Paul L. Maier, In the
Fullness of Time: A Historian Looks at Christmas, Easter, ...
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chronology_of_Jesus - Cached - Similar
http://epistle.us/articles/star.html
Our times together are never planned for it all depends on her work schedule and daughter needs. When she suddenly appears at mass, for me it’s like a beautiful Christmas day and she’s the brightest shining present there. Usually a couple of weeks go by, and it’s amazing how much there is to catch up on. Mostly this is because as our friendship grew, we became more intimately involved and caring about each other’s lives. And that’s another phenomenal blessing…we’ve never met each other’s families, yet through caring/sharing the seasons of our lives, we `know’ them.
Another phenomenal blessing…through her gentle guidance the medical labyrinth of confusion and intimidation doesn’t seem so much anymore. I’ve taken a more self-centered responsibility for my care versus just accepting `they’ always know the best route.
It’s no mystery that what goes on in an institution is far different than the appearance from the outside. The attack happened mid December 2005. I came out of the coma Valentine’s Day 2006. I had multi metaphysical experiences; and `know’ that there were brief moments of `consciousness’ wherein I knew I was in a hospital. One was at Christmas, another at New Years. I was aware of laughter and celebrating in the hallways. I was calling for help in my mind…no one ever came to check on me…the time was so, so long. I had anxious feelings of fear and abandonment. Another time I came to and was aware that my arms were in blue casts. I experienced incomprehensible shock and then sunk back down again. And then there were two poignant experiences both at night. The first was an black attendant mopping the floor. He saw my eyes open watching him. He stopped came over, smiled and said: you’re going to be alright. A tremendous feeling of peace came over me. Then it’s hard to describe the next one for I can’t imagine a person really looking like this for there was suddenly at my bedside Chewbacca from Star Wars. He was looking at me with such tenderness that I felt like I wanted to cry. He just stood there for a long time sending me waves of comfort; then he moved to go. I implored with my mind: Please, don’t go…his eyes signaled he had to…and he left. To this day if I feel the need for comfort, I think of him with wonderment.
When I came out of the coma on Valentine’s Day, it was surreal. I knew I was in a hospital. From my bed, I could see a nursing station. A nurse came and looked at me, smiled, and left. A doctor came, did the same. I didn’t feel discomfort nor connection. I literally felt as if I was a `camera’ watching and recording without memory. I saw pictures on a board close by. I sensed I `knew’ them…but there was no stimulation to think about them. I literally was like an infant `brought’ into the world receiving `impressions’ without thought. I think a day elapsed; then there was a nurse: she was talking and smiling at me - she said her name was Martha and she was asking me: How was I doing. I nodded and smiled. I don’t know how I knew it - but I did - I had no voice.
There were so many experiences: the good, bad, ugly.
I truly got to see what goes on `behind the scenes’.
The respect and admiration for hospital doctors, nurses, technicians, custodians, associates who love their work went over the top. The disdain for opposite felt despair and wrath. Those feelings have been intensified through my friend who has shared even more than what I experienced that is going on - in effect reducing the honor and dedication of the traditional medical service representative to one of robotic response and neglect.
So we are suited for each other in analyzing and encouraging as we articulate problems that besot the medical and rehabilitation community juxtaposed with current events while all along keeping abreast of our familial travails, needs, dreams, hopes, desires.
She encourages me in my writing/publishing…and I am urging her to do the same on an inside professional critique on what is going on in the medical field. She is strongly considering it. We are praying.
Not too long ago she took me to one of my favorite places - Norm’s. I had worked for them as an added job part time three decades ago while full time running a Schoolhouse business. Extra monies were needed for I was also pursuing higher university course work. The restaurant truly offered fantastic deals. We had other favorites too: Denny’s; IHOP. Interestingly I had also worked for them too - Denny’s in my 20’s as employee time card processor; IHOP in my 20s too as a waitress. I confess: I was always better behind the desk than on the floor. Needless to say I had tremendous appreciation for those who work so hard, earn so little.
This day we had our meal - service was excellent. She ordered an extra meal: her daughter liked something special they served. She was going to take it to her. We got outside heading toward her vehicle when a homeless man approached trying to sell something. She, without hesitation, immediately gave him her daughter’s meal.
I think that illustration sums her up the best of all.
Now here’s something ironic to insert. Nurses are encouraged to always advance their vita curriculum. She is very dedicated; takes every opportunity to learn.
She was thus enrolled when her daughter became ill. It was soon after this that I met her - when her daughter was losing her foot.
So, of course, when the emergency arose, she got the waiver for school. Her personal life was devoted to her daughter and this crisis. But she also kept on working. Over a year passed before she could entertain the thought of returning to an educational forum. And, what happened. Well, the course work was closed/completed. It was an experimental program sponsored by a nonprofit. The hospital never received and/or paid out any monies for this pilot program. Now, after seven years, she is being notified that her account went to collections. Ludicrous!
Alas, now we are both in the process of trying to find out if there is any relief.
But true to life’s seasons, there always seems to be a winter going on in her life and/or mine.
Her daughter lost her best friend who had exactly what she has. They were both doing so well; and then one day after a procedure, her friend suddenly went into septic shock and passed away. A retarded young boy that the daughter was mentoring died. Two family members passed. Another seriously ill; another desperately in need.
I’m one of ten (three went to heaven from birth). Mom/Dad/eldest brother/youngest retarded sister gone. During these past years, my second and third brother joined them.
The seasons aren’t consistent…don’t follow a pattern…sometimes it seems two springs in a row, then again it might be winter.
Throughout it is our faith that is our common denominator. We love mass and communion. She and her daughter are steadfastly loyal to above and beyond devotion. They even did a pilgrimage to Lourdes.
She has a soft prettiness - clear complexion - caramel honey hair that softly waves to her shoulders - direct bronze eyes - panache dresser with flowing skirt and matching blouse - compatible virtuous look.
Soon after moving into the neighborhood, I found the perfect doctor - a woman - walking distance to home. She too Filipino ancestry. The hospital she worked out of was Catholic sponsored and walking distance right before my church where I went to daily mass. She needed blood taken and gave me prescription for the hospital. I had to fast. My normal day routine is up at 3:00 a.m. - coffee and a piece of toast at 4:00 a.m. That day I did without. Right after mass went to the hospital blood lab. A Filipino nurse came to take blood and I suddenly crumbled. Before attack, although always very low tolerance to pain, taking blood had never been that hard. Not any more. I was so weak and vulnerable. Suddenly this nurse opened her arms and I was being cradled like a child in my church where religious artifacts graced the walls. The relief and comfort were blessed.
That’s how I felt with my friend; prayed that every patient could have this spiritual healing comfort from someone like her.
I think the trait I admire the most is the one that causes her the most anguish. You might assume that her nurse role as a mother would be diminished for others. Not so. I have experienced her supreme sensitivity not just for other family members, but for strangers. I can feel Michael the Archangel animating from her as she stresses over inadequate bureaucratic policy for patients not just in her present care, but for the future as well. I told her once about a test gauge I have for myself when I need to speak out. If it was for my children, what would I do? Well, that’s what her gage is…every patient is looked at as if her beloved daughter.
My friend Ayda is the best kind of saint…one who walks the talk of love/service - caring/sharing - devotion/prayer. My prayer for the universe: that everyone could have a friend like her.
###
© ARC March 21, 2015
It was sudden…her face strained…pleading look. Please, would you pray for my daughter. She is having her foot amputated! The shock/horror! I opened my arms; we hugged.. I promised her I would…she went one way, I the other.
It happened at the park behind the house my daughter bought. I now lived with her. I was no stranger to horror. I once had a home; in fact two…but lost them and so much more the previous year, 2006. They were used as shelters for the homeless. I had borrowed equity on one in the West Coast that had been in legacy trust for my two children with their permission to buy another on the East Coast.
Phenomenal networking had preceded to social services, religious and nonprofit groups via phone, electronic and postal mail outs. Information was clear: I had worked with the homeless for nigh on two decades and had the opportunity to open one in their area. I did this under a nonprofit that I founded without government subsidy relying solely on self-labor efforts and Samaritan tax-deductible donations. A free board/care week was provided, then donations of $100.00 a week usually subsidized by welfare general relief, disability benefits, or employment. I was explicit: no referrals of those with a violent history. I explained I had no help; didn’t even have a vehicle. The need was great. Expectations were high for the research previously done indicated there was a tremendous need for helping homeless veterans.
I had been there for only a month and a half. Something was definitely wrong. House should have been filled. A representative from local charity along with volunteer came by after receiving invitation. I was alerted to the politics that a local judge had secured a building. Most referrals went there. The local Veterans administrators too visited. They also were not encouraging. I was getting desperate eagerly awaiting the holidays for my Kimosabe friend who had helped me move would be visiting. He promised to take me to network in person.
My daughter was due the third week in December. Under the tree for her was a safety gift: pepper spray. She too had a solo lifestyle; work kept her constantly on the road oftentimes at night.
And that is what we did, my Kimosabe and I - immediately went to Social Services. I thought it was very strange that we were kept waiting for over a half hour. As we got to the offices, there were at least five workers none of whom looked busy. But, the visit was pleasant enough. I had gone bearing gifts. This was a custom of mine: whenever anyone ever came to my home a little gift was presented - usually just a $1.00 candle and/or picture frame - something to remember the moment by.
I was big on this. I called them: Magic Moments and Memories. The nonprofit name, Association Renaissance Creators, is symbolic: we all associate with each other in a renaissance new creative way. So, if I was meeting new people in their environment, I did the same thing. I had walked the neighborhood a few weeks after arrival, dropping gifts off with a note introducing myself/ARC.
Sure enough, as we made the rounds, meetings seemed very positive. Yet, once again, one woman, who I was told was a key active volunteer in the community, warned me saying the politics were heavily against me.
Needless to say, I was tremendously encouraged when just a few days later I received a call from Social Worker: they had two prospects.
I interviewed each by phone; seemed perfect. One was hard of hearing and needed temporary refuge; another was a recovering addict and dyslexic. Both were young. A few days later, we went out again to make the rounds. When I got back, was told a social worker had called and sounded very anxious.
I called the number; and too heard an urgency…could she bring young man down immediately. The grandfather would come along too.
They came…I felt something odd, but immediately dismissed it. The social worker seemed so grateful, as did the grandfather. There was no overt reason for concern.
A few days went by; everything seemed to be going well. I had even given the three of them a cursory piano board reading music lesson. I gave my dyslexic one a reading lesson. I called Social Services; thanked them profusely for sending them - expressing eagerness to fill the home.
A few days later he attacked one man, than came after me: 42 stab wounds. I was in a coma for two months. He, white - 23 - Catholic raised, is now serving time: 15 years for two counts of attempted murder. When asked why, he responded: My father is Satin you know.
I survived through God’s grace. I had many metaphysical experiences: one in particular was very poignant. I believed I heard my mother calling me and saying one word: Names. After I came too and began to piece everything together, I came to the conclusion: I am allowed to live to increase `names’ to my already very long prayer list. My previous multi tasking very active involvement would now be focused on being a prayer warrior, writing and publishing, juxtaposed with meeting very special people.
The first year I lived with my daughter at her one bedroom apartment. She had an independent carefree lifestyle. She wanted me to have her bedroom; I refused and slept on the couch. I still do to this day. The couch in the family room gives me a swaddling feeling and greater sense of security with two exits.
The next year she bought a home with the primary goal to love and keep me safe, in a neighborhood where I could walk to my favorite places: church, park, library, local shopping center.
An emotional support animal was donated to me…I loved her name: Penny. How apt that our coins state: In God We Trust. My daughter though said she was even more significant for the reason of donation was she had bitten her owner while breaking up fight between Penny and new mate’s dog who had just come into the home. The shelter was facing her if owner couldn’t find a new home. My daughter said only I would chance rehabilitation and forgive as I had forgiven the monster who had attacked me. My daughter didn’t understand, few did, how I was praying for him to regain his soul back from evil. The dog was innocent…easier than the man to understand. All these years, each and every single day, at top of prayer list was petition for him to regain his soul. I learned not too long ago that his name was on a prison ministry. My prayers answered.
Now on this day I was at God’s nature park church. Monday through Friday I walked to 6:00 a.m. mass but on Saturday’s - I went with next door neighbors for 5:00 p.m. mass so early morning it was `church park’. I had never seen her before at the park.
One of the first persons I met at mass was in the restroom. She asked if I had a stroke - obvious reference to my face which was quite distorted. I told her briefly what had happened and she commiserated in horror. She, Joan, was a retired military nurse. Then, not too much longer after that, another woman suddenly stopped to give me a ride home. I recognized her too from church. She, Mary, too was a nurse! Then, you’re going to as amazed as I was. I get there by 5:30 before the driveway and walk way gates are opened. At first they used to be locked, and a custodian, Jim used to open. But then, they were just closed, so I opened them. As I got close to the church one day, a woman stopped. I recognized her from church. Yep, Cici, another nurse. I thought it more than curious that `nurses’ were being guided to me.
A few weeks passed and suddenly I saw the woman from the park at early morning mass. She saw me, offered to give me a ride home. I was eager to hear how her daughter was doing. And that’s how it began: a friendship that is now going on a decade…blessed and growing. Yep, she was a nurse too! Her culture Filipino. At one period of our history, the Philippines were a Mecca for nursing vocations. It was a match made in heaven for they were well known for empathy and caring.
http://www.rwjf.org/content/dam/farm/legacy-parents/the-nursing-profession
Alas, with the economic recession, the area has been hard hit.
http://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-18575810
Now, at the time of this writing, there is an upswing again; we are experiencing a shortage of nurses and caretakers.
http://www.aacn.nche.edu/media-relations/fact-sheets/nursing-shortage
But here’s the extra special metaphysical part of the story. My friend told me she never goes to that park where she saw me. She goes to the one closer to her home which was several miles away. She felt a strong impulse to go to that one that particular day where she saw me: we’re both convinced it was `meant to be’!
I still have not met the daughter who is our catalyst. Throughout these years I have agonized with a mother who bears a double burden for as a medical professional, she knows all the medical intricacies that involve her loved one’s well being. The adjustment that Kristen has gone through is miraculous to say the least. In my eyes, she and her mother are modern day saints. One after another, crisis situations have incurred. In addition to a beautiful teenager losing her foot, their lives revolve around that dreaded C word. Modern treatment is at the forefront but there is no guarantee and the reminders are constant. One of Kristen’s best friends was going through parallel treatment. Laura went code blue one day, gone that night. And then she was mentoring a young Down’s Syndrome man who too lost a limb and had Cancer. Jordan too is in the sweet by and by.
Throughout she holds herself with grace; pursues a nursing career, cultivates a rich spiritual life simultaneously enjoying family and friends. Sometimes it is the young who truly are our guiding lights of today.
Now it gets metaphysical for the next part of sharing. One of the most serious academic areas of intimidation for me all my life is the medical profession. I find it even hard to pronounce two syllable terms. When I was a young mother, my children can attest, sickness was abhorrent. The maxim: we are going to the doctor, here’s the chicken soup, watch TV, rest and get well was the order of one who was overwhelmed by illness that I had no control of and such limited knowledge. I had tremendous faith in divine healing through prayer; and trust in those who role modeled to me the best in neighborly love which was primarily nurses. My esteem for them went over the charts when my son was born. It was my first hospital experience back in 1964. The TLC experienced by nurses who were strangers was divine beauty to behold. This was repeated with birth of my daughter, second hospital stay. This service was magnified by me for it truly was one of my weakest characteristics. To think that strangers would choose a profession where they helped people at their weakest and would probably never see them again was wondrous in my eyes.
Shortly after I came out of the coma, while in intensive care, I witnessed event that pierced my mind, heart, soul. The alarm went on that an emergency was coming in. Silently, like stealth sentries, they lined up on either side of the emergency room door. There were at least six of them standing tall ready and alert to face whatever was coming at them. Their training silently animating from every pore of their body…emotion subdued and covered like a light underneath a shade. They reminded me of the angels portrayed at the beginning of the film: City of Angels. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/City_of_Angels_(film)
There were plenty of negatives but that’s in another essay. My focus here is on the positive and how thankful I am that God has blessed me with this angel of mercy as a friend.
What is also fascinating to me is that the medical field was not only mysterious but very intimidating. Slowly as our friendship grew, she would illustrate one medical aspect after another. I discovered I was listening to those incomprehensible words with accelerated alertness and comfort.
How did we get closer? Without fail, at least twice a month, she would show up at morning mass and whisk me away to breakfast. We rotated around to different places: Denny’s, IHOP, Norm’s, and a small Hispanic bistro that was a neighborhood favorite. And how we loved the service. When you are regulars at a place, it is amazing the camaraderie experienced when servers remember you and how you like certain things. For example: I always like water, no ice, with a twist of lemon. She always likes sugarless pancake syrup. Servers who remember the little things make you feel so special. You know the saying: priceless.
She oftentimes was coming off the night shift so my breakfast was her dinner. She never let me pay sensitive to my lilliputian Social Security and SSI. Loving, hard working, dedicated, loyal, filled with faith and love of God were her mantel. There was an added bonus for she too was very liberal, like me. We were the ultimate in religious freedom: both raised so conservatively, both devout, and both independent thinkers.
Her life had stayed traditional; mine had become a labyrinth of metaphysical underpinnings. Instead of traveling geographically, odyssey was in vivo, vicarious, mental, educational, experiential, and spiritual. It was like each person became `a country’ - and I was on an intuition `speed dial’ that attracted and beckoned one new one after another. Growth was so dramatic that it felt like I was unbinding my mind like a traditional Chinese woman let loose the straitjacket molding and shaping her feet. At the time there was sensory enjoyment that is juxtaposed with drinking and parties. In the popular music of the day, I was doing it my way.
As I review my life in twilight years, it is dramatically humbling to acknowledge that `my’ way so often circumnavigated the seven deadly sins. My astonishment at how `smart’ I thought I was for most of my early and later adult life compared to family and religious venerable only to glean bit by bit that their axioms evolved from `tried and true’ histories of universal kith and kin who role modeled a `higher and purer’ way.
The paradox mystery: Déjà vu accompanied me like shadow
throughout life.
I have tried to understand this - ongoing analyzing. Major focused on Psychology for this very reason…desire to understand me/others. My life had pivotal `turning directions’ times…if originally had stayed on what seemed to be familial, religious, education course I probably would be a very conservative married Catholic with large family dedicated to helping local church without higher education and working part time while raising children and then full time after children grown in a blue-collar secretarial job. My values would probably be ultra conservative.
Instead my life is diametrically opposite…and the truth of the matter is that it is the lifestyle I chose over and over again for the grass on this side always seemed greener than the other. And yet, when I see or meet those who went the traditional way like my friend, there is awe, appreciation, and a very deep awareness that for all my `higher awareness academic and spiritual learning’ maybe, just maybe, it was supposed to be the other way.
But, as we all know, there is no way to `turn back’ - so we go forward thanking God for forgiveness and mercy for trespasses that have caused the divine universe, family, friends, kith and kin pain and suffering.
So for whatever reason I am so blessed that God guided to me one who did stay true to the tradition while giving her a generous liberal mind, heart, and soul capable of embracing me and not judging me for the past.
Back in my salad days I had some local fame as a guest lecturer at expos, seminars, and also facilitated adult learning at local colleges and independent educational forums. This had been quite an achievement for me for my in my early educational college days I was lacking self-confidence - had very low self-esteem. There were various factors that led to this affliction, but through the course of divine guidance via Maxwell Maltz’ treasure: Psycho-Cybernetics, this was overcome. I actually had an hypnotherapy practice using his methods. It’s not so much that I missed my `stage’ days as that I was aware with my drooping face, trachea aftermath my voice did not sound the same and speech was garbled, hard to understand. It’s as if she never noticed; and, slowly but surely I was off an running caring/sharing working the facial muscles, following the spirit and I don’t remember when it was that I first became aware, but there was no doubt, speech was clearer, face was smoothing out, charisma back.
I think she is the `best kind of saint on earth’ for she is pious and devout with Christian role modeling traits like the new Pope Francis that exemplifies the best of a Christian nature that loves as self and amplifies the motto: who am I to judge.
One of the talents that we both recognize in each other is spirit guided eloquence. A few years back, my brother third in line passed. His wake was filled with loving family/friends. I gave a moving tribute. My niece said:
I was the best there. Nothing was `planned’ - it was just my heart/soul filled with love. And that’s spirit guidance to us. There’s an awareness that a higher entity is flowing through us as we care and share much like water droplets breaking through sunlight forming a rainbow…it’s the `right combination’ wherein the spirit transforms.
And then somehow, like music always on in the background, the divine essence radiates from us separately and/or even simultaneously.
We discovered another commonality…we both did things to help the homeless. She would put together `help packages’ that included toiletries, clothing. I had a one page resource information sheet that I enclosed in an envelope with a dollar: always kept three on me for I passed homeless park on the way to church. Inevitably by the end of a month would be gone, then would replace with three more. It was she who told me about a new program called HIP…
http://www.gazettes.com/news/homeless-project-takes-to-city-streets/article_c6ae6af0-8a67-11e1-aabb-001a4bcf887a.html
HIP began in February, and organizers said they hope to be fully staffed by
early summer. All in all, they will add about 18 members including
physicians, nurse practitioners, social workers, case managers and
psychiatrists. For the health side of service, HIP will be partnering with The
Children’s Clinic.
During the time that it is funded, officials said they expect to have a
maximum of 100 individuals enrolled for services, with 300 total by the end
of the three years. Currently, there are about 60 referrals for HIP to get
started.
“We will start with the list from the vulnerability study (which was mostly
downtown), but people with homelessness often move around,” Legere said.
“It’s a very specific set of people, so often it takes a while to build a trusting
relationship. There is going to be a lot of people we meet who might not
want to fully engage with us right away.”
The most vulnerable homeless who will be targeted will include people
afflicted with schizophrenia, major depression, affective disorders, diabetes,
STDs, hepatitis, AIDS, cardiopulmonary disease, cancer, hypertension,
cardiovascular disease, respiratory illness, chronic pain and arthritis.
Anyone who knows of someone who might qualify can call the HIP
information and referral line at 285-1330 ext. 266.
“It’s completely mobile, so people don’t have to go to a site, we’ll bring
all these services to them,” Legere said. “That’s what’s unique for this.”
And I told her about
Broken Loaf Food Pantry: Sat: 9 to 11: Free Food & Clothing/Shoe … more
http://www.lakewoodfirstumchurch.com/Broken%20Loaf%20Food%20Pantry674622
4300 Bellflower Blvd., Lakewood 90713 (562) 425-1219
Hawaiian Gardens Food Bank/90716: 21411 Norwalk Blvd. (562) 860-9097
Through the years I loved reading about the role models like a church on the East Coast and one in San Francisco that opens their doors at night and allows the homeless to sleep in their pews.
We both shared admiration for Mother Teresa and Saint Vincent DePaul and thrilled that new Pope Francis for `talking it like it was’… role modeling by encouraging more `walk the talk’ instead of insensitive and un-empathetic judgment.
We both learned a little bit about each other’s culture/background.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Culture_of_the_Philippines
http://www.kwintessential.co.uk/resources/global-etiquette/philippines-country-profile.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sicily
http://www.everyculture.com/multi/Pa-Sp/Sicilian-Americans.html
One of the most interesting facets for me is that she had a brother who was born on my birthday and died…studied to be a seminarian; and my other nurse friend, also from the Philippines, also has a brother born on April 17th.
Carl Jung’s http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Synchronicity theory on Synchronicity holds that these events are meaningful coincidences.
You see, there’s something extra special about that date. There is a theory that it might be a more accurate date for Christmas.
http://www.eclipse.net/~molnar/
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chronology_of_Jesus
1. Chronology of Jesus - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
For example, astronomer Michael Molnar identified April 17, ... a b Paul L. Maier, In the
Fullness of Time: A Historian Looks at Christmas, Easter, ...
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chronology_of_Jesus - Cached - Similar
http://epistle.us/articles/star.html
Our times together are never planned for it all depends on her work schedule and daughter needs. When she suddenly appears at mass, for me it’s like a beautiful Christmas day and she’s the brightest shining present there. Usually a couple of weeks go by, and it’s amazing how much there is to catch up on. Mostly this is because as our friendship grew, we became more intimately involved and caring about each other’s lives. And that’s another phenomenal blessing…we’ve never met each other’s families, yet through caring/sharing the seasons of our lives, we `know’ them.
Another phenomenal blessing…through her gentle guidance the medical labyrinth of confusion and intimidation doesn’t seem so much anymore. I’ve taken a more self-centered responsibility for my care versus just accepting `they’ always know the best route.
It’s no mystery that what goes on in an institution is far different than the appearance from the outside. The attack happened mid December 2005. I came out of the coma Valentine’s Day 2006. I had multi metaphysical experiences; and `know’ that there were brief moments of `consciousness’ wherein I knew I was in a hospital. One was at Christmas, another at New Years. I was aware of laughter and celebrating in the hallways. I was calling for help in my mind…no one ever came to check on me…the time was so, so long. I had anxious feelings of fear and abandonment. Another time I came to and was aware that my arms were in blue casts. I experienced incomprehensible shock and then sunk back down again. And then there were two poignant experiences both at night. The first was an black attendant mopping the floor. He saw my eyes open watching him. He stopped came over, smiled and said: you’re going to be alright. A tremendous feeling of peace came over me. Then it’s hard to describe the next one for I can’t imagine a person really looking like this for there was suddenly at my bedside Chewbacca from Star Wars. He was looking at me with such tenderness that I felt like I wanted to cry. He just stood there for a long time sending me waves of comfort; then he moved to go. I implored with my mind: Please, don’t go…his eyes signaled he had to…and he left. To this day if I feel the need for comfort, I think of him with wonderment.
When I came out of the coma on Valentine’s Day, it was surreal. I knew I was in a hospital. From my bed, I could see a nursing station. A nurse came and looked at me, smiled, and left. A doctor came, did the same. I didn’t feel discomfort nor connection. I literally felt as if I was a `camera’ watching and recording without memory. I saw pictures on a board close by. I sensed I `knew’ them…but there was no stimulation to think about them. I literally was like an infant `brought’ into the world receiving `impressions’ without thought. I think a day elapsed; then there was a nurse: she was talking and smiling at me - she said her name was Martha and she was asking me: How was I doing. I nodded and smiled. I don’t know how I knew it - but I did - I had no voice.
There were so many experiences: the good, bad, ugly.
I truly got to see what goes on `behind the scenes’.
The respect and admiration for hospital doctors, nurses, technicians, custodians, associates who love their work went over the top. The disdain for opposite felt despair and wrath. Those feelings have been intensified through my friend who has shared even more than what I experienced that is going on - in effect reducing the honor and dedication of the traditional medical service representative to one of robotic response and neglect.
So we are suited for each other in analyzing and encouraging as we articulate problems that besot the medical and rehabilitation community juxtaposed with current events while all along keeping abreast of our familial travails, needs, dreams, hopes, desires.
She encourages me in my writing/publishing…and I am urging her to do the same on an inside professional critique on what is going on in the medical field. She is strongly considering it. We are praying.
Not too long ago she took me to one of my favorite places - Norm’s. I had worked for them as an added job part time three decades ago while full time running a Schoolhouse business. Extra monies were needed for I was also pursuing higher university course work. The restaurant truly offered fantastic deals. We had other favorites too: Denny’s; IHOP. Interestingly I had also worked for them too - Denny’s in my 20’s as employee time card processor; IHOP in my 20s too as a waitress. I confess: I was always better behind the desk than on the floor. Needless to say I had tremendous appreciation for those who work so hard, earn so little.
This day we had our meal - service was excellent. She ordered an extra meal: her daughter liked something special they served. She was going to take it to her. We got outside heading toward her vehicle when a homeless man approached trying to sell something. She, without hesitation, immediately gave him her daughter’s meal.
I think that illustration sums her up the best of all.
Now here’s something ironic to insert. Nurses are encouraged to always advance their vita curriculum. She is very dedicated; takes every opportunity to learn.
She was thus enrolled when her daughter became ill. It was soon after this that I met her - when her daughter was losing her foot.
So, of course, when the emergency arose, she got the waiver for school. Her personal life was devoted to her daughter and this crisis. But she also kept on working. Over a year passed before she could entertain the thought of returning to an educational forum. And, what happened. Well, the course work was closed/completed. It was an experimental program sponsored by a nonprofit. The hospital never received and/or paid out any monies for this pilot program. Now, after seven years, she is being notified that her account went to collections. Ludicrous!
Alas, now we are both in the process of trying to find out if there is any relief.
But true to life’s seasons, there always seems to be a winter going on in her life and/or mine.
Her daughter lost her best friend who had exactly what she has. They were both doing so well; and then one day after a procedure, her friend suddenly went into septic shock and passed away. A retarded young boy that the daughter was mentoring died. Two family members passed. Another seriously ill; another desperately in need.
I’m one of ten (three went to heaven from birth). Mom/Dad/eldest brother/youngest retarded sister gone. During these past years, my second and third brother joined them.
The seasons aren’t consistent…don’t follow a pattern…sometimes it seems two springs in a row, then again it might be winter.
Throughout it is our faith that is our common denominator. We love mass and communion. She and her daughter are steadfastly loyal to above and beyond devotion. They even did a pilgrimage to Lourdes.
She has a soft prettiness - clear complexion - caramel honey hair that softly waves to her shoulders - direct bronze eyes - panache dresser with flowing skirt and matching blouse - compatible virtuous look.
Soon after moving into the neighborhood, I found the perfect doctor - a woman - walking distance to home. She too Filipino ancestry. The hospital she worked out of was Catholic sponsored and walking distance right before my church where I went to daily mass. She needed blood taken and gave me prescription for the hospital. I had to fast. My normal day routine is up at 3:00 a.m. - coffee and a piece of toast at 4:00 a.m. That day I did without. Right after mass went to the hospital blood lab. A Filipino nurse came to take blood and I suddenly crumbled. Before attack, although always very low tolerance to pain, taking blood had never been that hard. Not any more. I was so weak and vulnerable. Suddenly this nurse opened her arms and I was being cradled like a child in my church where religious artifacts graced the walls. The relief and comfort were blessed.
That’s how I felt with my friend; prayed that every patient could have this spiritual healing comfort from someone like her.
I think the trait I admire the most is the one that causes her the most anguish. You might assume that her nurse role as a mother would be diminished for others. Not so. I have experienced her supreme sensitivity not just for other family members, but for strangers. I can feel Michael the Archangel animating from her as she stresses over inadequate bureaucratic policy for patients not just in her present care, but for the future as well. I told her once about a test gauge I have for myself when I need to speak out. If it was for my children, what would I do? Well, that’s what her gage is…every patient is looked at as if her beloved daughter.
My friend Ayda is the best kind of saint…one who walks the talk of love/service - caring/sharing - devotion/prayer. My prayer for the universe: that everyone could have a friend like her.
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posted by R. M. Namaste' at
May 03, 2015
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