Mary goes to the clinic and meets David Cameron

Mary was sitting down feeling quite lonely in the waiting room outside the doctor’s office when she saw Emile hiding under a chair..
What are you doing,she whispered.I’m glad of your company though.
I jumped into your cab, the cheeky cat informed her proudly
I want to be there when he examines you in case he makes vulgar remarks
Don’t worry,she answered,they always have a chaperone nowadays.
Just then a pretty young black nurse took Mary into a room and said to her
Take off your underpants!
I don’t wear underpants,said Mary,but I can go home and get my husband’s if you want me to.
We use underpants as a generic term,the nurse informed her in a kindly yet menacing voice.
Wow,they are so intelligent nowadays,I don’t think I knew what generic meant till recently Mary told herself stupidly
I have no underpants,Emile meowed. crossly
No and I am not making you any.I have quite enough washing to do already.Mary responded like a mother.
It’s not fair, said Emile.All my friends have underpants and T shirts too.
Soon the doctor came in and looked nervously at Mary and then at her female parts.
Mary was used to this but all of a sudden she got a nasty pain
Ow,ow,ow,she shrieked,what is that?
It’s ok,said the nurse,just older ladies are not used to this sort of thing.
I’ll have you know many older ladies are very used to it but not when they are unaroused.Besides men’s organs are kinder than metal or plastic if the lady is willing.Can’t you put more lubricant on the damned thing
The doctor tried to remove the speculum but was clearly somewhat agitated.
Ouch,cried Mary.Ouch.
Thank goodness I didn’t know it would hurt.Do you think we should be shown a romantic mildly arousing film in the waiting room to make it easier?
We can’t do that,said the nurse.We might be accused of running a brothel.Still ,we could use more money in here.
But the doctor is not paying me,said Mary.I am paying him, in a sense,as a taxpayer.And you too,dear.
You are too clever for me,said the nurse sharply as she admired Mary’s tan leather handbag from TKMaxx stuffed with set squares and cameras
I shall bring a vibrator next time,Mary told her,though she had never even seen a vibrator except in a picture.Still.she had to say something.And why should she not benefit from modern science?Boots sell them,she seemed to recall…
You can’t bring a vibrator in here or the doctor will be angry ,as he might be accused of misconduct if you enjoyed yourself, the nurse whispered, though why should you not enjoy it,she said in a puzzled tone ;as if she had never thought like this before.
I thought it was only misconduct if the doctor enjoyed himself,Mary cried loudly.
He has seen so many ladies, it is just like seeing into a mouth for him,said the nurse churlishly thus taking away Mary’s pride in her unique anatomy.
I expect one gets used to anything in time,Mary murmured,but I hope he will not need to do that again to me.
No, you seem ok,the doctor said,but I seem to imagine I can see a cat under the table.What is he doing?
I am just keeping an eye on you,mewed Emile.I live with Mary.
No animals are allowed in here ,the doctor shouted in a paranoid manner.
A bit late now,meowed the cat.Are you sending for the cat police?
Dr.Grey picked up a very large speculum and threatened to strike Emile with it
Now then,said the nurse, he might scratch my legs.Leave him alone.He’s just protecting her.And I had just sterilised that.
Fat lot of good Emile was,Mary thought to herself.
The doctor approached Mary and told her she would be seeing a consultant soon… in the meantime should she do anything to prepare… she asked.
Well, do try to relax if you can, he told her gently.It is trying for ladies of riper years to attend hospitals but we only want to help you.
I’ll have to help myself,Mary thought wryly, laughing inside, as she got down off the table and put on her red and purple knickers or “underpants” as they are now referred to by health professionals
.Thank God,that is over,she whispered to Emile.Let’s run out and get a cab.
She hobbled to the door and phoned the taxi firm with her mobile.I just want to get home she told the driver.
Don’t we all, he said in an Eton accent.Surely it’s not David Cameron in disguise canvassing patients?Thank God he’s not conducting pelvic exams on them!That would lose him the election whether he was any good or not… in my view,but then what do I know about the British electorate?It might be the key to our future as a nation.Think about it!No,stop!

The avenue of life was made too straight
Vienna with its harshly cut off trees
No one ever had to navigate.

We saw the gravestone in the day or night
But we did not see what life we might have seized
The avenue of life was made too straight

Life is more like sailing or birds flight
Where we move according to the breeze
We deeply wish to feel and navigate.

Life is more like dance than soldiers fight
All the soldiers surreal. a clean machine
The path to God  could never be so  right

Oh,  diurnal owl,  his wants  are slant
From  Tyne to Tees we sleep his cruel dreams
He’s known by his will to navigate.

Yet God created hawk and owl and scene
No straight line will  any bird  demean
The avenue of life is not so straight
We in danger learn to navigate.

 

The vital line was drawn with one brush stroke
The way the back leant curving into space
The dance and danger both are thus evoked

Like a play, a drama, fire and smoke
A dance performed so swiftly and with grace
The vital line was drawn with one brush stroke

The heavy bull is pounding,is provoked.
A threat, a man,  intrudes into his space
The dance and danger both are still evoked

See, the  matador throws out his cloak
A   dash of black, and here we see his face
The vital line was drawn with one brush stroke

The mind needs just a hint to  see the whole
We fill the present with our past distaste
The dance and danger, mirroring dark smoke

 Acting both dramatic and displaced 

The artist may still love what she forsakes 

The vital line was drawn with one brush stroke 

he dance and danger ,life and death evoked

 

https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/evil-deeds/201201/essential-secrets-psychotherapy-the-healing-power-clinical-wisdom-part-one

 

What we don’t know can hurt us. The “unconscious,” as Sigmund Freud professed, is the “unknown” or “not known.” That portion of subjective experience which is obscured, invisible to consciousness, at least “at the moment.” It consists largely of the parts of ourselves we deny, dissociate, despise, denigrate, dread and generally repress. What we repress comes back to haunt us with a vengeance. Philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche spoke of this phenomenon as “the return of the repressed.” Denial or dissociation are repressive defense mechanisms, and serve some necessary function in terms of preserving mental health. But when some significant aspect of ourselves is chronically denied or dissociated (i.e., repressed and made unconscious), the proverbial chickens eventually come home to roost. If, for instance, someone always denies their anger, these feelings will some day resurface tenfold, especially under stress, though the reason for and intensity of their rage may be unclear  and inappropriate to the current circumstances. This dark and treacherous territory to which these repressed “chickens”–or, more descriptively, “demons” are banished–is what Jung referred to as the “shadow.” It is related also to what Rollo May called the “daimonic.” The daimonic, according to May, “is any natural function which has the power to take over the whole person. Sex and eros, anger and rage, and the craving for power are examples.” Thedaimonic, can, by definition, be both destructive and creative. When the daimonic is habitually denied, it becomes more negative and dangerous. But when we acknowledge its presence and reality, it can be the life-giving source of energy, strength, power, spirituality and creativity. This can be said of the unconscious in general. So it is vitally important to learn to listen to one’s unconscious carefully, and to what it has to say about what’s happening in the psyche now and what needs to happen if the future, both inwardly and outwardly. Meditation,mindfulness and dream work are all methods of listening to and discerning the unconscious.The secret is to take the unconscious (and its complexes) seriously, treating it with the respect and sense of mystery, awe and wonder it deserves. And to recognize the ultimate futility of repression, rather allowing one’s self to consciously experience emotions as they arise, while at the same time learning to pause between stimulus and response rather than reflexively acting on them. We have both the freedom and responsibility to choose how we respond to our feelings. But that, like any other skill, takes practice.

Rain falls lightly in the winter wood,
Dampening stones that make a pathway through
The overgrown, the old trees and the new.
The odour of the rain on grass is good

I see the acers coming into bud.
The daffodils are waving as I view.
The lily pond is lonely without you.
We used to feed a robin when we could

 

After Mass on Sunday mornings then
We’d drive to woods  and walk to lessen strain.
But now I cannot write, I clutch your pen.
My inspiration gives me life again.

 

Without your hand in mine, I walk quite lame.
The dampness on my face is tears, not rain

 

 

 

I get out my sewing gear
In the quiet times of life,
When I need to mend the tears,
Torn by stress and strife.

I hold my soul so carefully
And gaze at every part.
I hope that light will come to me
As I wonder how to start,

.I take my needle out
With love thread through its heart,
I scrutinize each inch.
And then I start to stitch.

In the quietness of the night
You heal me all the time
You talk to me in dreams
And I write them down in rhymes.

Another day will come
And more fractures form.
That’s all part of life
Strife ,and mend, and strife.

Keep that cocoon whole,
Till the soul’s completely there.
Then through its love-sewn folds
A butterfly will flare.

Shimmering light
The lily pond
The music of your eye
The touch of your arm
Your always honey smell.
I love.

Rustling trees in a row,
A wide green lawn;
People stoop to see small flowers.

A snail on the path.
The perfection of the shell.
I believe

Unusually tall dandelions
at the edge of this wood
Wave in the warm west wind.
We smile.

Sitting pen in hand
I wonder what I would have written
In all the letters I’ve not sent you.

Far away on the Ridgeway,
Cars, like ants,
Rush towards the motorway.
They make us laugh.
How green the meadows
How fresh the old trees.

I gaze at you.
I find I am.
It’s mutual.
They call it Love

About 9 months before my husband died he had operation on his nose for cancer; something called a rodent ulcer. Since he had had cancer before we were not too worried about this. After a few months he got an appointment to have this removed.

What we didn’t know was that they would do the operation in two stages. In the first size they would remove the cancer which apparently went quite deep. Then they would send him home. The next day he will be sent for an operation to fill the gap so that the wound could heal my

Is this happen to anyone you know if it’s very dangerous. Sending someone home with a hoe in their face with just a little dressing over it it is potentially dangerous. I think it’s done so that they won’t have to use a hospital bed overnight.

The next morning I heard him shouting. I went into the bathroom and it was full of blood like a butcher’s shop or fsr worse than

a butcher’s shop. Apparently he blew his nose but he had not been told that he should not do that although it seems like common sense but he was 88 years old at the time and he didn’t have dementia so they should have warnef him in writing.

I didn’t want to send for an ambulance because the hospital where he was going to have the operation did not have an a and e so he was sent to another hospital he would miss operation. So I rang a friend and ask him to come in a cab and then come in the house and get my husband the suffering from shock had no breakfast. So I kept my own when my husband covered in blood stains and looking terrified.

It had a very bad effect on my husband it’s terrifying to lose so much blood.

I had to have an operation on my face as a few weeks later and this worried him very much. He didn’t recover from his own operation and when I went back to the hospital for a check-up he was in a wheelchair. The doctor who was checking him up had done at my surgery so my husband said to him, I think you know my wife. The consultants looked at me and he said I’ve never seen her before in my life. Then the nurse who had been with him during my operation came in. She immediately recognise me and came over and started asking me how I was etc

The day after my operation my husband collapsed and was diagnosed with heart failure he must have been ill for some time and it wasn’t that bad but it rapidly got worse and worse.

Someone with severe heart failure starves because their abdomen is full of fluid. Because the heart is not processing the blood so it flows backwards into the lungs and into the abdomen.

I kept him at home until almost the end. Then she make it really surreal he was taken to the hospital as an emergency after being resuscitated They managed to keep him in A and E until he died thus he never did get a hospital bed

My own health has never become good again. Well it is not surprising is it I only had one day of restt after I had the surgery. Then they told me that I am very lucky to be alive now. Well after all that trauma it doesn’t seem fabulous trying to come to terms with it all especially when we got into lockdown.

Thank you to the Conservative Party. Without your coats to the NHS my husband would have been kept in the hospital overnight and not suffer this terrifying hemorrhage. Imagine me trying to clean the bathroom when the walls and the floor and everything was covered in blood and I could not even clean my husband’s body or and fresh pyjamas.

I couldn’t remember writing this post the hairy tales

The confusing swirl of violence broke down walls
And panic rushed in through the holes and gaps
I saw folk taking photos, checking maps,
Their phones gripped like a weapon that appals.

We see then what comprises our defence.
The connection to our family and friends.
The need to make a record of the end.
The need to look again till it makes sense.

I felt a well-known numbness cover me
My heart needs its own time to feel the pain
The world I live in is not safe, that’s plain.
From Al Jazeera to the BBC.

The many masks of innocence deceive.
Hatred of this kind is misconceived.

DREAMS

Mary dreamed she was riding her bicycle.She was going up a hill and then approaching a very complicated roundabout.
How can I look at the map when I am riding my bike,she asked herself.Anyway I don’t have a map and I’ve never been here before.She looked down and saw she was wearing some dark blue denim culottes and red suede knee high boots with laces.
I don’t remember buying these,she thought.She felt quite hot even though she wore only an olive needle-cord coat over a Breton T shirt.
Goodness me, she cried.I look smart.
Her spectacles clouded over as she was sweating.How will I know where to turn off when I don’t know where I am or where I am going to.
When she woke up she filled Stan’s beer tankard with tea.
What a lot of tea,miaowed Emile.
I thought it saves carrying the tea pot. I’m going to go back to bed as I feel a bit peculiar.
You have got a fleece nightgown on.Maybe you are too hot,he replied.
I am trying to save money on the heating,Mary answered.I see I can save even more money by buying 2 pairs of Hotters sandals for £97.Usually they are £127.
That saves £30,the clever animal informed her.
I think it’s quite misleading,Mary answered.It only saves money if you were already planning to buy them.I have such strange feet I don’t like to bare them.
Do you wear shoes in bed with a boyfriend.Emile asked.
I’ve not got a boyfriend.Emile/
But if you did?
Well.you know, an older man might not wish to go to bed with me.He might like just sitting holding my hand and kissing me.
OK said ,Emile.It sounds a trifle boring to me.
Don’t be so cheeky, Emile.Talking to me is not boring.
No, he said, but it’s nice running up and down your legs in bed.
I could hardly expect a man to do that.He might injure me.
It was just a kind of example,he replied nervously.

Suddenly the back door opened and in ran Annie from next door.She was wearing a mustard coloured track suit and orange trainers with matching lip gloss.
What a horrible colour,Mary cried.
It’s the in colour now,Annie said kindly.I am getting my hair dyed too.
Bright yellow is better,Mary told her.Except it attracts insects.
Insects,I don’t want those.How are you,dear.You look flushed, she responded emotionally.
No wonder. I’ve been cycling all night in my dreams.Why can’t I dream of motor bikes?
Don’t ask me,Annie told her.I am utterly ignorant.Do you need therapy?
I don’t think so,Mary answered.I need to know where I am going.Do I decide or is it my Inner Wisdom or Higher Power.I could use higher power on that bike.
Just take it one rotation at a time, Annie murmured.
I thought it was one step.Mary answered
You can’t take a step on a bike.
I suppose not.But I could ride up a step on the bike.
Don’t ride up a step ladder,Anne advised.How would you get down again?
Let’s have some coffee,Mary cried.Here we are ,the kettle is boiling.
Let’s just sit and brood.
But don’t ruminate,purred Emile.It makes you ill.
Just let your mind go blank.
And so I did.