i would not make a good homeless person. i'd have died years ago. i'm too much of a whiner.
this morning i was standing on oak bay avenue, in the darkness and the fresh snow covering icy un-shovelled sidewalks (we have a name for those people, on the prairies), waiting and waiting and waiting for a bus. after half an hour i started crying, wailing, saying 'oh my god i'm gonna die' and then remembering ... i don't believe in god.
normally, this waiting for a bus in the snow thing would just be something i do, sans whining and complaining. but this morning was the day after one of the most painful, if not the most painful (physically, anyways, not so much emotionally painful, though it's endlessly frustrating that i've had this physical pain thrust upon me) that i've ever experienced in my entire lifetime. i've successfully avoided the pain of childbirth, so i can't speak for that, but i'm certain that dental pain must rival it.
twelve or fourteen hours of it, yesterday, with no painkillers. i don't keep them in stock, i don't know of any that are vegan (though today's internet search suggests there are some out there), so i plied my amalgam inspired healing release with oil of oregano, colloidial silver, various vitamins & minerals and chlorella and organic vegan wine with no sulfites and greens and msm and sprouted mung beans and all i could eat was one tiny bowl of soup and a couple of smoothies all day.
nevermind waterboarding, those investigators with no social skills who depend on torture ought to consider tooth anguish as a method of interrogation. i'd have confessed to anything yesterday and, much to my own self-detestation, actually succombed to the relief of an animal-ingredient pain pill offered up by my flatmate - who was also kind enough to fetch cuban rum .... i like to support the cuban economy and i needed to sleep. i figured i'd just medicate its ass. i was scheduled to be here, at my holiday doggie gig, before 8 this morning. and there was no way i could take my bike and trailer, not in the snow and ice. in retrospect i should have called a taxi. i called in the evening, to reserve one for the following day, but they weren't taking reservations. they said to just call in the morning. but when i woke up, after actually sleeping a few hours in a row thanks to the little pill (sorry, tortured animals, it was an act of desperation, and why in the world do they need to add stearic acid to otherwise helpful chemical combinations of some of the earth's special offerings), i managed to avoid the wretched 4 am power steering screech (see previous entry), didn't feel too bad, and decided i could just take the bus.
so this morning i packed, and did the dishes (being unable to do anything the day prior except roll around on the floor making sounds that might be contorted and used for a porn flic) and dressed for the weather (wool sweater - sorry creatures, it's a hand me down), long underwear, toque, mitts, hiking boots, and leftover from alberta parka. by the time i left the apartment i was sweating underneath it all, probably something connected to yesterday's illness, but i had no choice except to walk the few short blocks to the bus stop.
i've never waited so long for a bus in my entire life. three or four buses passed me going the other way. i waited, and waited, watching for those lights on the distant hill. i just know that i'm going to catch pneumonia. my perspiration was confronted by cold, and wind. i could feel the cold enter my back body. the few people out clearing lots and shovelling sidewalks must have wondered what the heck was going on. i was sobbing. i'd be a terrible homeless person.
but the reason i'm writing this isn't to belabour my horrific morning, it's because i promised myself, yesterday, while attempting to focus my attention away from my pain and onto a television showing of 'the great escape,' that i would write about this pain. because this pain is entirely unnecessary. thankfully, there are now people in the world who have no amalgam in their mouths, and who will never have any amalgam in their mouths, and who will never know this pain. to those who are able to get theirs removed, i will again recommend that you make sure you have enough money not only for the amalgam removal, but for the detoxification that must necessarily go along with it. i couldn't afford both at the same time, though after yesterday i wish i'd have managed it somehow (though not just any old how because that could be more painful than anything, physically and emotionally).
looking at yesterday's notes, i have these:
"the great escape - all men - inventive methods to challenge the hierarchy while also engaging in it, with christmas music, a great holiday film.' in all honesty, by the time i was writing these notes i was in a self-medicated fog, inspired by indescribable pain that introduced me to segments of my brain i hadn't previously known. i remember being quite taken by the mens' mission to escape to the forest, to go over or under, and their simultaneously competitive and cooperative spirits working towards their goal. the little british club was particularly humerous, as the british are wont to be. i remember thinking this reminds me of hogan's heroes, i suppose that's where they got the idea. i know nothing!!!
i also wrote 'thank goodness for the cold,' because i want to be sure to remember how much i appreciated the frozen bag of organic beans that were attached to my jaw for much of the afternoon. there's a reason for darkness, and there's a reason for cold.
'my face is all puffy' - that much is self-explanatory. i could feel the metals being released into the rest of my system. i could taste the metal in my mouth, the feeling of my tongue on my teeth was repellent. i drank copious quantities of boiled water in the form of ginger and cayenne and metchosin special tea.
then i wrote about the homoeroticism in the ge movie (it's so obvious!) and that the clearcuts in the background (i guess that's how they got rid of europe's forests, too), and after that, 'i'm in so much pain i'm hallucinating .... this is a near death experience'.
i'd like to believe it's over, it's all behind me, but my vegan homeopathic mercury special order (with an alcohol base rather than a lactose one) won't be available for another few days ... and maybe not until after christmas. i know that my pain in connected to mercury, and i know that the hair of the dog that bit you is a solution because it's worked for me before. i have pain, i injest the mercury, it challenges my body to find it and remove it, and i am released from my pain. until the next time.
my jaw started aching this afternoon again. i'm not currently moaning with pain, not yet, but there's only so much of that a person can take and i feel exhausted. it's a good thing jasper (my new client) is an old guy, and doesn't require much maintenance. if the pain continues another day i might have to resort to regular homeopathic mercury, or at least search for vegan painkillers until the good stuff arrives. i'm not exactly sure what's going on in my mouth, but i do know a dentist would recommend a root canal. that's what they're told (by their hierarchical authority) to do. a root canal is a potentially helpful temporary solution, i suppose (though i do know someone who continues to have pain where the root-canalled tooth used to be), but it doesn't remove the mercury that's stored in the gums and inner organs and throughout my body. cancer research, anyone? why don't we hear of jaw cancer? i'm hoping that's what's happening with me is a release ... i'm drinking a ton of water and tea to flush it through, hoping the liquid calcium will help rebuild whatever might be destroyed, i've beem investing in herbal solutions, yoga, accupuncture, massage, and organic cruelty-free food ... i've got to believe this is a healing.
jasper's been trying to establish himself as the alpha-dog, he's patiently agreed to wait for his walkies ... perhaps now's a good time ....
there's something about all those christmas lights. i realize it's a terrible waste of energy, though my friend assures me they're probably low-energy led lights nowadays, but they are pretty. they transform the neighbourhood into an inviting place, the houses say 'you're welcome here' even if you don't want to go there, and probably you're not actually welcome there anyways, but it gives that illusion. this is historically a neighbourhood established by, i think, professionals. doctors. lawyers. dentists. nurses. they do good work, they deserve to live in a relatively green environment, in solid homes where they can raise polite, respectful canadian children. right? i dunno who could afford to buy here now, certainly not corrupt investment bankers. it's a pleasant neighbourhood and i'm strangely, and against my better nature, pleased that there is an effort to lift those massive pieces of metal into the air so that these good hard working people, who serve their community, can fly off to distant lands for the holidays, and leave me in care of their nests.
if only the same effort could be channelled into creating housing solutions for those who aren't blessed with such surroundings ....
i would not make a good homeless person. with all this pain, i'd have died by now. i'm so very thankful to be inside for the holidays. i wish everyone were as fortunate.
