Monthly Archives: June 2013

We are Moving Soon

A household  with two people suffering a neurological  brain disorder….   I have witnessed much.  I realized  we have to look again  how we deal with  old age and illness.  Most importantly–we have to stop  the cruel practice of isolation.

Though not far.  One floor below.  But the amount of work  is still staggering.  I  am sorry I have not been able to blog.  But it will happen very soon , early july.  I appreciate your patience.  You have been all incredibly supportive.  And so loving.   Thank you.  Anna

 

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A War Story and a Miracle Cure

Two people in a household with a neurological brain disorder…  I witnessed  much.  I realized we must look again how we deal with old age and illness.  More importantly – we must stop the cruel practice of isolation.

I am not against the so called traditional medicine.  But I  think  being open to other ways is not a bad thing.  In my last blog I  wrote that  my mother  seldom went to medical doctors.  She prefered natural medicine.    The story below  may  be why.

This happened in the Soviet Russia, in a small town near where Chagall was born.  Just after the last world war ended.  The country was in ruins,   and short of everything.   My mother was  twenty,  about to give birth to her first child.

The hospital was a bombed out building.  The windows were big holes . Luckily it was  August.   Vera  gave birth to a healthy boy,  David.  But shortly   a breast infection had set in.

Soon the infection was raging. Without an antibiotic  there was no hope.  She was sent home.  Her father,  Salik (my father) ,  her  brothers and sisters were in despair.  Then  my grandfather  remembered  a healer  who had a practice before the war.   He began to ask around.   People remembered the healer.   But there was bad news.  Someone said the healer was killed in the war.

In the meantime young  Verochka  was getting  weaker by the hour.  Deep sadness filled the household.

 Then something  unbelievable…  One day my grandfather is at the market and in the crowd he sees the healer.  That healer  was a tall, heavy man and stood out.  They recognized each other and talked.  It was the  son who was killed.  They agreed to have a drink at grandpa´s.

The healer ´s name was Vasili.   When  he  entered the house he heard moaning.  What’s that?   It’s my daughter with a breast infection.  Vasili  dismissed it with  his hand.   Just remind me to have a look at her before I leave.

Not long after mama  was   in a chair and  facing Vasili.  He did not touch her.  He  asked someone to open her blouse a bit .  For a minute – not more – he moved his hands up and down close to her breast.  Mama  felt intense heat coming from his hands.   Then he covered her breast and said she will be fine.  He added she will  sleep for  hours.

She slept  for twenty four hours in fact,  without stopping.

She  dreamed she was at  a river bank ,  by  a  bridge.  The bridge was  a  narrow plank  of wood  without  rails.    She heard a voice saying :  if you make it to the other side you will live. She looked down.  The water was speeding , foaming. But she was calm and took her time crossing the river.  The last step she took was a light jump unto the ground.  When she opened her eyes  she found the infection  gone, the wound completely closed.  Only a light pink spot had remained.

In her lifetime mama had seen other healers.  Among them   our wonderful Didi,  Dr. Mohanambal,  a supreme Ayurveda specialist.   And each time she would be asked about this  right breast.  It is fine but something happened  long  ago. Yes?

As a child of war survivors I heard all kinds of war stories, my parents’ and their friends´.  The stories were repeated over and over.  I knew them all by heart.  I knew who was where and what happened to each person.  But the story above I was told only once, by my mother.   Yet it had gone deep into my soul.

Maybe because the story was told  to me in Russian, conducive to  deep  emotionality.  Or  maybe it was mama´s  colorful and poetic way of speaking.  But the words had gone in  and shaped me.

Tip 0f the day

 An oversized wall clock.  Nothing is more disorienting  than not knowing the time of day.  Most of us have some kind sort of routine  each day, even if not fully fixed.  We know when  to eat  breakfast, lunch. The news….    Having a clock on the wall is useful to a person who needs  help even with simple things .   The clock may offer some  comforting  anticipation.  A modest  independence.  A  calendar also might be nice.

Thank you all.  Anna            For future  blogs  www.homecarediary.net   Please feel free to pass it on.

 

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