Turbo Cancer: Day 105 - September 24, 2022
Fairy Tales
On this day, last year, my mom wrote:
Yesterday was a lovely day with Lenore and Julie. Great food, conversation and support. What would I do without you, family and friends?
My grief over Steven continues. Lenore asked Al to look after him. I asked my mom. I have always loved him from the day he was born. He is resting in peace at last.
Steven had been as much my mom’s baby, as he had been my own. My mom was crazy about Steven, from the moment that she knew of his existence.
When I became pregnant, I was young and unsettled. I was stupid. I had been making incredibly poor decisions about my life, and had wound up in a bad situation.
Steven’s father was a physically abusive heroin addict. In spite of that fact, when I discovered I was pregnant, I married him. I imagined that we would become a happy family.
The human brain continues to develop until a person is approximately twenty-seven years old. The final area of the brain to develop is the prefrontal cortex, which provides a human with the ability to think about the future, and to make good decisions.
I have only two excuses for the poor choices I made at age twenty.
The first is that my brain was not developed. I did not have the ability to make informed and sound decisions.
My only other excuse is that things happen as they are meant to happen. As they say, things happen for a reason.
Steven was meant to exist. He was meant to be the great love of my life. I was meant to fail, as a mother. I was meant to lose him. He was meant to lose himself.
Only God knows why.
Maybe it was because I was meant to be sitting in a chair, in a house, in the middle of a corn field, in Indiana, writing this story. That seems to be the case. That is what is happening, after all.
At age twenty, I still believed in fairy tales. My wedding song was Tale As Old As Time, from Disney’s Beauty and the Beast. I thought that, through the power of love, a quiet, nerdy princess could tame a wild beast. I thought that kindness could cure addiction and that gentleness could erase trauma. I imagined that I had the power to fix a broken man.
In real life, these stories tend to end with the beast consuming the princess. The broken seek out the kind, as the kind can be easily manipulated. The desire of the broken, is to create more of the broken.
The addict that who lived inside of my first husband had power over us both. The powerful are, famously, unwilling to give up power.
After Steven was born, I woke up. I suddenly had this beautiful, helpless little spirit to protect. I needed to get out of that castle and away from the beast. I packed my stuff, grabbed my baby, and ran.
There was only one direction for me to go - home.
I went back to my mom.
When my mom was alive, I always knew that I had a home to run back to.
I moved back into my childhood bedroom, with a new, tiny baby, in tow. I lived there for the next four years. My mom took care of us both.
Those were happy times. We had nothing but love for our little boy.
“In real life, these stories tend to end with the beast consuming the princess. The broken seek out the kind, as the kind can be easily manipulated. The desire of the broken, is to create more of the broken.”
I have lived this. There are degrees to broken. Even the lesser can erode bit by bit.
Thank you so much for your posts Kristi. They're an emotional rollercoaster where I'm both confronting my own perilous journey through the medical system in the past, and the journey of those I care about, while admiring so deeply how you and your mum handled hers. I'm so sorry she didn't survive her journey. I bet she's so happy for the lessons you've learned and your dedication to making it sure it doesn't happen to you, and as many people as you can reach with her story. You reached me and my family. We already knew the medical system is a murder machine, your story helps provide extra certainty.
Knowing the med system is designed for profit by maiming and murdering, not actually helping people, and that we've been lied to about very fundamentals things our whole lives, this might interest you:
https://jane333.substack.com/p/we-breath-air-not-oxygen
I watched my ex-ED nurse mother in law die from turbo cancer in 2018.
Yes, before the scamdemic and poison injections.
She was on a salt wasting medication, the only med she took. I believe it caused her cancer and killed her. On her deathbed, she was severely dehydrated as she'd lost the ability to hydrate orally. Because of my own health issues, I knew she needed IV saline. I begged my husband to get it for her. They refused as they don't give dying people IV saline (after reading the article I linked, I get why, can't be saving lives aye!). I was willing to fight them on it, I could have won that for her as I know the regulation in my country, but she didn't want anyone to "make a fuss". So I stopped making a fuss (which took every ounce of self control as I watched her be murdered by incompetence and negligence) and focused on supporting my husband through the toughest 4 months of his life. I'm still furious about it and won't allow that system near my kids.