The Edge

Two months ago I held a man in my arms. I was the first person to touch him in years. He stays in his bedroom almost all the time because he is afraid of people. He is afraid people are going to hurt him and hate him. They might. But what people think has no bearing on his mental illness. He is consumed by what he thinks people think about him. His own assumption of other people’s judgments keep him locked in a 12 by 12 bedroom.

How big is your bedroom?

He is a dancer that doesn’t dance. Except behind the closed doors of the office we were in. There he was a ballerina. A poised-sweaty-deliberate body of art.

He isn’t a very good dancer. But he watched me watch him and saw rapture in my eyes and body language. He danced harder and faster to the unspoken approval I showered on him. His finishing number was filled with anguish and tears and a bow. He got lost in his dance because he felt safe to do so. I recognized him as a dancer.

Who gets you lost?

I held him after that. Tears should have been rung from both shoulders of my shirt. He cried because he spends the majority of his life trapped in a prison in his own head, walls made of unfounded fear. A lie prison. A heavy metal concert of thinking that never stops and is never nice. Some people have a classical music prison, some an opera prison or an oldies prison. The sound in the head, be loud or soft, be nice or vicious, is just that. Sound. Words and pictures that are given meaning with the problem solving ability of the brain. These solved problems that define who you think you are could be your bedroom.

Insanity is not dancing.

My hope is that his tears seeped into my shoulders. I should always be quiet enough to recognize the worst dance and be brave enough to dance my worst dance.

We only die you know.

Madan and India

-India
Madan was quite a man. When I arrived in India alone, he met me in a very crowded airport, with a held up sign with "jai" on it and a smile. Nothing screams safety in India, so his friendship and guidance while there was priceless. Madan was in his early 70's and had never made a pilgrimage across India before so he jumped at the chance to do it with me. He wasn't physically well and he knew that, therefore a final adventure fit right into his schedule. We got on the first train and didn't stop going until we entered every temple, mosque and holy place we could find in the south. We approached every guru and holy man that was approachable and snuck into the presence of the ones that wanted nothing to do with us. We acted like little kids with each other, trying to always one up the other by being "more" enlightened. He would lie to me and say that the holy guy we were speaking with whispered to him that he was more enlightened than me. I would fall into a deep pretend meditation when he wanted to discuss something and make him wait.  We had, 'who is the bigger swami contests' to see who got the best bunk on the next train. We loved each other. It sounds like we were making fun of our experiences, but on the contrary, we were on a very serious journey of self inquiry. Being present with ourselves was our cliche goal.

We succeeded. 

I left India for a while after our long journey was over. I came back a few months later and Madan picked me up at the airport again. I immediately knew he was dying. He looked so worn out from the inside. The rickshaw ride back to his house was pain filled for him and therefore for me. Later, we sat very close to each other on his couch and we giggled like kids while re-reading the notes we made on our epic pilgrimage. We exchanged long excited looks at each other because we knew we wouldn't be able to for much longer.

Eyes close.

I flew back to the U.S and called Madan right away. He was in and out of a coma and his wife put the phone to his ear for me. I sang him a 70's American hit he loved to sing to me. I told him why I loved him. He died that day.

The oceans has waves that rise up and live then sink back down into the ocean again. He was a brilliant wave. 

Around the World with People

People come in and out of our lives everyday. Sometimes you pass by somebody on the street and they effect you. You share a brief moment, and that's it, they are never in your view again. Sometimes people come into your life and you share many moments and they effect you forever. People have the opportunity to have a great impact in your life. Knowingly or not, you impact others. In my travels, I have met extraordinary human beings, and I wrote about them in my journals. Here are a few of those encounters.

-First day of college in Florida. I have my track of classes together. I want to be a psychologist and I have a long way to go. I walked into my first class on my first day of school. Psychology 101. My butt hit the seat and this overly perky girl came right up to me and said, “Hi. My name is Cece. Do you want to be my friend?” I said, “Sure. Do you want to know my name?” She said, “Nope. Not really. Want to go dancing tonight?” I said, “Sure!”
That night was so much fun. I was wearing my favorite dress, and I must have danced with every person in that club. At the end of the evening, Cece told me she was thinking about dropping out of school and traveling with the Renaissance Faire. This is the second time this week that I have heard of the renaissance faire. My friend that I hang out with on Thursdays told me she was leaving for the Ohio Renaissance Faire this next week, and I am going to miss our weekly visits. I asked Cece what renaissance faire she was thinking of working at. She said, “Ohio.”
I dropped out of school the next morning. We left the next week, Ohio bound. She has some friends there that might get us a job. I have no idea what I will be doing for work. I have a tent to live in.

I worked at the Renaissance Faire for six months, both in Ohio and Pennsylvania. I lived in my tent. I got a job as a Dench a Wench, which is me sitting on a diving board and screaming profanity all day while people come by and throw tennis balls at a target to make me fall into water. I lost my voice everyday. It was so fun! I met the most interesting people and had some of the best times in my life. We parted ways after six months. Thank you for the adventure Cece.

-Working as a therapist in Arizona. Client is a homeless man named Sal. I have been seeing Sal in my office for two months now. He is a homeless war veteran and maybe the smartest man alive. He talks and talks and I can't stop listening. I purposely don't schedule anyone right after him in hopes that he will just stay and talk. He knows about physics and literature and art. He is the sweetest old man and he doesn't want a home. He sleeps in the park and is completely content. Sometimes he talks about the Korean war and how he feels about his experiences. He tells me why he has to drink himself to sleep every night. He's got four jokes and I hear them every week. Today's session was extra special because he brought me a box of old beads that he found and he was so proud to give them to me. “Look what I found for you.”, he said. “I have been carrying them around for a few days now. I think you will like them.” He gave me his biggest smile.

Sal left my office that day and drank as usual. He passed out in the park as usual. That night, three college kids hit him over the head with baseball bats, poured gasoline over his body, lit him on fire and drove away. He burned to death. Thank you Sal for your company, your intelligence, your contribution to the war, and the beads that I still have.

-On a plane from Johannesburg, South Africa to Durban, South Africa. I flew into South Africa from India today. I had a connecting flight from Johannesburg to Durban. I was so nervous because I am alone and I don't know what I am getting myself into. A woman is suppose to pick me up in Durban and drive me to a hospice, where I will live and work, and that is all I know. I found my connecting flight and there was an older woman sitting alone in the waiting area. I walked by her and noticed she was reading a book that I love. I felt a compulsion to tell her that I enjoyed the book she was reading. Kinda weird. She said thank you and continued reading. I went to the restroom and then walked around the airport nervously, like I always do before a flight. I noticed that after a while there were a lot of people waiting to get on the plane. It was time to board and I always want to be the last one to get on. I have such flying anxiety and I fly so much. It doesn't make sense. So I got on this huge, full plane and I found my seat. I looked over to see who my seat mate was and it is that older woman with the book! We looked at each other and laughed. I sat down and got myself as comfortable as I can get. As we took off, she looked over at me and said, “We obviously need to know each other. Look how many people are on this plane.” I laughed. She asked me why I was flying to Durban. I told her that I was coming here to work at a hospice, teaching doctors and nurses how to care for people while they died. I was coming to teach people how to not burn out at there jobs and how to sincerely care and love people in hospice environments.” I asked her what she was doing flying to Durban? She said, “I am a hospice worker. I hold people while they pass and care for the sick and dying in Johannesburg. I am coming to Durban to vacation and see my daughter.” We both laughed and were dumbstruck by this chance meeting. In that hour flight, I asked about everything I was nervous about. She told me so many things I needed to here. I felt at ease and not alone. It was a perfect meeting! As the plane touched down in Durban, she said, “Don't worry. You are obviously doing exactly what you should be doing. What are the odds that we would meet otherwise?” I hugged her and said thank you several times.

I lived in South Africa and worked for many months. I had the honor of holding hundreds of people while they passed. I got to teach doctors and nurses and caregivers how to care for people that were in the last days and hours of there lives. I held babies and grandmas and showed others how to do the same, so that no one would have to be alone when they were passing away. I wrote booklets on self-discovery and handbooks for doctors and nurses to keep for reference in care. I wrote a children's book for a children's hospice about these subjects in the way kids who are dying can understand it. I got to do everything I wanted to do there. I don't know what that woman's name is that I flew with on that one hour plane ride. I do know that she made a lot more possible for me with her wisdom and understanding. Just her being right there that day was the perfect reminder that I was where I should be. Thank you plane friend for everything.

People encounter you. It is unavoidable. You are somebody to the people you meet. The more you are in touch with yourself, in your own life, the more you will be aware of the people that impact you. People come and go. Some stay for good and some expire. The right person can just be there for the right moment. I promise that every person you happen upon is important to your life in some way. That is for you to discover. And even more exciting, is your discovery of who you are for other people.

Find out.

And, Thank You.

For a full year...Every Thursday.

I have secrets.

Every Thursday for a full year, I snuck away from my life in Sarasota, Florida. I would drive North. Not to far, just two hours. I would begin my day at Busch Gardens. Entering the amusement park, I would bypass everything else to get to the Gorillas. I would sit in the same spot, really close to the glass at the gorilla enclosure, and just watched them. I imagined that the gorillas knew me and talked to each other about how annoying it was to have me come and stare at them every Thursday.

“Here she comes, fellas. I told you. Doesn't this bitch have anything else better to do with her time?”

I didn't.

This was one of three stops I made on Thursdays' and there was nothing that could be better for me to do. All morning I would sit and watch them do their day in pure fascination. Every kid that came by to look at the Gorillas, felt what I felt. In "WOW" of them. I wanted to be in there. I wanted to be fuzzy, rub my belly, climb stuff and sleep face down. I got lost in contemplation and fuzzy monkey daydreams. Around noon, I would say good-bye to the Gorillas and leave the amusement park toward my next destination.

Is this how an adult should act?

I drove to St. Petersburg. Salvador Dali has a museum there on the edge of the ocean. He is a surrealist painter and my favorite artist. He is dead now, but his paintings are alive and well and carved into my sockets. I would sit and look at one painting forever and find new things. Every Thursday, I would paint his paintings with my eyes. I would get really close to them to see how he moved the brush. I was accepted that year, to one of the best art schools in the country. I declined going because I could never paint like a madman. I could never paint like Salvador Dali.

Only with my eyes.

Around four, I would leave the museum, and continue on my way. Destination number three was the dessert of my day. I would arrive at a woman's house with great anticipation. A fantastic friend. Once I went through the gate, and onto her property, anything could happen. Her yard had a scattering of giant crystals, rusty metal benches, dead flower beds, wild statues, and hidden treasures in trees. The inside of her house was light-less except for some candles that looked like they had been burning forever. The house was full of more giant crystals, empty bird nests, moody pictures, and old books covered in dust. It always took a while to find her in that house, and finding her was never disappointing. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. To me, she looked like a witch. She always wore long dresses on her tiny frame. Curly black hair framed her face, and her deep gray eyes were fatally gorgeous.

Her eyes were almost loud.

We would drink tea and talk complete nonsense. One day we sat on the roof, bound and determined to drink all our tea with our eyes crossed. It is not easy to drink tea on the roof with your eyes crossed. We danced to music that wasn't playing. We laughed at ourselves. Made up languages to express how ridiculous we looked. Enjoyed each others creativity. We always ended up having a deep conversation about life and love. There was never a reason to be self-conscious about our behavior. Self-consciousness had other days to thrive.

Not Thursdays.

I said good-bye when the tea was gone and the sky was dark. I would drive home and walk into my house and back into my more formulated life. No one knew my secrets.

My Discovery:
When someone appears to have no limits it looks like insanity. Thursdays looked like insanity.
Could insanity be living in a padded room..walls made of limits..your outfit being your judgments, disquised as a straight jacket..your imaginary friend is the self-talk in your head that you argue with about why the walls in your padded room are important. Who talks themselves into being limited?
Not children. Children are filled with wonder.

Where did your wonder go?

I found mine on Thursday.

Moments on The Camino de Santiago in Northern Spain

      In 2004, my friend Wendy and I walked across a part of Northern Spain. There is a trail that is marked with yellow arrows that starts in France and goes all the way across the upper portion of Spain. The route is called Camino de Santiago. Every year hundreds of people take this trek and it is the experience of a lifetime. Your only job everyday is simple. Walk. We got up early in the mornings and ate whatever we could get our hands on and then put on our backpacks and walked. The most beautiful scenery was seen and the most amazing people from all over the world were met. I still talk to some of the people I got the pleasure to know on this trip. Most days we walked a very long distance and some days it was a tough hike, but it was always the best day. At night, we slept in Catholic churches. Sometimes there were beds and sometimes we slept on church floors. Inside this free, beautiful, and inspiring time, I had the chance to write. Here is some random words and experiences along the journey.

-Even if you don't know what you want, buy something- to be a part of the exchanging flow. Start a huge, foolish project, like Noah. It makes absolutely no difference what people think of you.

-We woke up at 6:45am and began walking at 7:15am. This is my 4th day of walking so my muscles are shot. We were suppose to run into a town called Torres along the way to eat. No luck because we somehow passed it. Around 1:30pm we came upon the city, Viana. Thank God! I am starving! We walked right into a big beautiful church and the man at the door pulled us in. What a loving loving man-every step was worth it. They feed us a wonderful meal and then we pulled mats out onto the floor of this beautiful church and fell asleep. I love drinking the hot leche (leche is milk) and I love The Camino. Good night.

-You are everything you are looking for.

-We are walking with our new 'old man' friend from Ireland, John, and he is drunk on booze and hilarious! Today we walked 30 km and I am exhausted and smelly. We finally found our end point and Wendy and I are now crammed into a tiny space with other stinky people. It's 'lights out' at 10pm. I have come to enjoy 10pm because I can make Wendy laugh loudly by just whispering a few words into her ear. Her laughter makes everyone yell, “Shut Up”, which in turn makes me laugh. I am 6 years old.

-I was walking in the hot sun to the next town wondering this thought: Do you think the people that do the most harm to others have to come back in their next life, as a saint, to make it up to them? I have no wild ideas of reincarnation, but that thought could make judging people a different experience altogether.

-I noticed that people get up way to early to walk ahead of us and I have discovered its because my snoring is so loud, that no one wants to sleep at the same place as me. Ha! They race ahead hoping to find a quieter environment to sleep in. Come on. I'm not snoring like a Hippo on purpose.

-My feet hurt today!

-So a couple nights ago we stayed at an old leper hospital from the 1200's. We found it in the middle of a field and they happened to have beds for us to sleep in. Outside the hospital, there is a pool that lepers used for healing themselves that is beautiful and made of stone. The water fills up this pool from a spring and it is the coldest water I have ever felt! We decided we were going to jump in the pool and cool off. I got to the edge and hesitated because I knew it was going to be so shocking. I finally nerved up and jumped in. As my flesh touched the water, I literally bounced out of it and over the other side, as if the water was a trampoline. I flew into the ditch next to the pool, and landed on my arm pretty hard, but that did not stop me from laughing my ass off! I can't even say I was in the freezing cold water for 3 seconds. It was like the coldness threw me out of the pool. Wendy had a great laugh over this event. I didn't know I could move that fast, but at that moment I had super flying powers. Later, we took a nap outside in our sleeping bags and watched a cotton-like seeds fall from trees all around us. This trip has been ten thousand experiences a second. Life is amazing!

Moments in South Africa

My job in South Africa was to take care of adults and children as they died of AIDS and teach others how to do the same. Teach people how to be there with someone and be present for them and support them as they pass. I have been in the hospice field for some time. Even when I was a kid I would go to the nursing home down the street to hang out with the old folks. I would just sit and listen to stories for hours. The more senile the better. The stories that make no sense are always the best stories. Going to Africa was a dream of mine and I will go again. I feel like I need to explain why I choose this as my field. Why would someone want to be around people passing away? Death and Dying is avoided at all costs. We, as humans, spend most of our day and night avoiding death and suffering, both in ourselves and in others too. This fascinates me. Everyone running away from what everyone will do. You and I are very different but we are identical in that we will both die one day. I, too, run and avoid death. What brought me to this field is I wanted to know why. What is this death business that I and everyone else is so afraid of? I turned around and began walking toward this scary monster named death very young, purely to rebel against a fear that grips people. "Oh ya?..you are so scary that you make me and the whole world scared. I bet you are not so scary. Lets see you then." My ego came in handy at this point. "How dare death think it can back me into a corner and frighten me. I'll show you." So funny. And over the past 17 years or so I have got the privilege to be with a very large number of people going through the process of dying and I feel lucky every time. Each persons experience is different. The trick to being with someone facing death, is to face it with them. Not imposing any of me in their death. I do get very scared..with them. Happy..with them. They take me on their ride. I must have used up all my ego facing death because when its faced I find myself forgetting about me all together and being a canvas of whatever is happening for the other. I obsessively have spent almost every moment of my life watching and observing people, all our whys and whats. I'm fascinated by us. I have a doctorate in human condition from the school of myself. I have come to this conclusion. I promise you that this conclusion is really all you will ever need to know: Everyone is wanting and waiting for someone to know them. You are hungry from birth to death to be known. Every single thing you do today and everyday is in hopes to be identified. To be seen for who you are, who you think you are, who you might be, who you truly are. Anything. All the time there is an unending yearning to be found, understood, got, uncovered, known. You may go your whole life without anyone really stopping long enough to truly see you and find you. When I say stopping, I mean someone completely being present to who you are regardless of themselves. Beyond the noise in my head. Beyond me trying to relate to you. Beyond deciding who I think you are so that i feel safe in your company. Beyond assessing. For someone to die to themselves for even a moment, to be present and recognize another is truly a rare event. It is the biggest bestest gift you can give to anyone. Someone stopping there whole understanding, there whole life, to stand in the face of you. Seeing you very clearly. Maybe even clearer than you do. That's the long awaited goods. And in those last moments of life, that stopping occurs. Even for a moment. And it is a great teacher. I feel very lucky to have faced that scary monster. Because that monster holds in its stomach a secret. Presence. And I am very grateful.

 Moments in South Africa

-Before I left America, I was volunteering for a hospice in Arizona. In America, HIV is manageable and people are living very long lives because of proper medication, so there isn't many AIDS infected individuals in hospice care. But i told them if they come across anyone with AIDS that I was there person. So they called me up one day and said that they had a young woman with full blown AIDS for me but that she lived far away. I didn't care and went to see her a couple days later at her fathers home. Her name is Traci. She was quite thin and was recently blinded by the disease. I walked in and said hi expecting a small voice if any voice at all. This beautiful and full voice came out of this 32 year old woman. She just talked and talked. So happy and alive despite not being able to get out of bed and/or see. During the conversation she mentioned that she would love to work with beads. After she was finished talking for the day, she asked me about myself. I told her that I was leaving for South Africa soon and that I would be volunteering at adult and children hospices. I told her that in a couple days I would come again and bring beads to work on. She piped up and said,''Do you know what would be great? If we made bracelets and you took them to South Africa and gave them to the children with AIDS. They would like that wouldn't they?'' A life came across her and you could see that she saw more reasons to live until the next time I saw her. My best friend and I found great beads and string and I brought them. She was quite weak and because she couldn't see well, she would work on the bracelets the best she could than I would take over. In our few visits that I had with her before leaving we made a nice bag of colorful bracelets. I have those bracelets. I cant wait to give them away. Moments present themselves every moment. No matter what.

(In South Africa)

-I just went to the grocery store to get some food and maybe about four blocks away from my home there was a huge family of baboons just hanging out on the side of the road. Anybody who knows me well knows I love monkeys. Love them! so I pulled over and sat on the side of the road and the baboons and I ate my dinner. (bag of carrots) What a thrill for me!

-I am counseling the black nurses and I have had to put in a lot of extra hours just earning trust from them. It's a small struggle but the payoff is great. I am learning more and more and feel strangely at home. We talk in groups and one-on-one. Self support and self-love and coping skills. How to fall in love with yourself. And giving to yourself first so you have unlimited supply to give to others. Things they have never heard of. The bravest person is the person who looks to discover his/her own self. It's true. The only person you have been with since birth is sometimes the very person avoided at all costs.


-Her name is Anna Nzama. She was at the hospice for 2 1/2 weeks. She was beginning on 40 years old. Something about her stood out. She had something special in her. It wasn't just me who noticed it. Strings of people were constantly visiting. Transportation is very difficult here so folks had to go to a lot of trouble coming out here. Her beautiful daughter would come often. I would always encourage the staff to get to know Anna. Every moment with her was a treat for me. She would speak with me in very good English. Her eye contact pierced mine and I could feel her always searching my eyes to see if I was OK, unconcerned about herself. Annas HIV was taking over her body and she knew it. I would ask her how she was doing everyday and I would get a very honest answer of "not well". Such a brave honest answer to what is going on inside is quite rare. She would than often wet her lips to keep them moist and smile and we would laugh together.
      A week ago I stayed at work late into the evening and a group of Annas family and friends came in to visit her. They gathered around her bed and began to sing. Now, I don't know if you have ever personally heard black women sing, but it shakes you. They sang in Zulu and invited me to join in the singing. As I stood there mouthing the words the best I could, Anna fixed her eyes on mine while she sang. That will be 2 minutes I wont forget. It is powerful to me when the patients sing. The other night a woman who is going through pains I cant even conceive of, broke out in song so passionately that all the patients joined her. Magic.
      Now, Anna and I shared a lot of moments but my favorite times were holding her hands. Not only would she receive my hands so graciously but she would treat me like I was holding her heart. When in reality, she was holding mine. The day before last our hands had a very hard time letting go of each other. We let go very slowly and strongly, finger by finger as I walked away. Yesterday I came into work and she was over in the "out of view" area we keep patients when they are coming close to death. The nurse said that she was fine minutes earlier, talking and such. Anna even told the nurse to come and sit with her when she had the chance. And the next minute she slipped into a coma state. I sat with her and held her hand. But now it was just me holding hers. I rubbed her head and checked for signs of conscious activity. I stayed with her all morning and sang and loved her the way I imagined she would want me too.
      When someone goes into this state it is common for them to pass away quickly and it is rare to come out of such a state. Suddenly,she coughed. She stirred the tiniest bit. I pushed on her arm and she responded and her eyes flinched when I touched her eyelashes. She was conscious. I laughed a bit and knew this woman knew things I didn't and had this one more trick up her sleeve. I got up and walked toward the outside only to find her daughter and two other relatives coming in. The head nurse told her that her mom wasn't well. I greeted her. We had become friends from her visits here. I went over with her to her mom and told her that she was suddenly conscious, could hear her and was with her. And I walked away.
     Ten minutes later I came back and Anna had died. Annas daughter had held strong long enough and proclaimed she couldn't do this anymore. She cried a great deal while I held her tightly to my chest. I felt the need to hold her like I imagined her mom would hold her. When it seemed like it was time to let go I could almost hear Anna saying, "Not yet. Squeeze."
      After a while, I let them be and went about other things until they were satisfied with their goodbyes. The nurses wrapped Annas body up and I asked her daughter if she wanted to go to the mortuary with me. She said yes. The nurses placed her in the van and her daughter and I, and a nurse drove Anna to the mortuary. The van is a stick shift but at one stop light I did get the chance to hold her daughters hand for a moment. I think going along for the drive was very good for her. A final goodbye. When we arrived, she said goodbye to me and we had a hug and she walked away. The nurse and I than attended to the body than continued back to the hospice.
       Anna grabbed hearts. People flocked to her because of this. Unconsciously others may have kept a clear distance from her to avoid all that heart grabbing business. I'm glad I didn't. She was an incredible human being that made a unconditional impression on me. I recommend getting your heart grabbed by as many people as you can fit into your schedule. Better yet, make your schedule secondary.


-A beautiful bright blue bird flew into the house the other day and got trapped. He was trying very hard to get out of a closed window. I'm sure he thought that all the dozens of times slamming his face against the window paid off when I opened it and he got back outside. The other pesky animals that I am "HEAD" landlord to is lice. There is nothing sexy about 3 weeks of lice. I have given them their eviction notice several times and they are not complying.


-I am not a fan of walking uphill. Halfway up is a gate that is watched and opened by a young woman. Now, by the time I get my booty to her I'm ready for a nap. The first day I moved in I asked her what her name is. She said, "My name is Perseverance." The damn woman's name is Perseverance! How could I give up?? So halfway up the hill when I want to give up, "Perseverance" opens the gate for me and I continue. So I say Hi to Perseverance every morning and carry my lazy ass up the rest of the way.


-We have twin baby boys. One was born with AIDS and one was not. The one not infected is twice the size of the infected one. On Friday, we toke the healthy child to his father to live because he wanted the healthy boy back. So we split the twins up and the HIV infected boy twin stayed with us. I worried about the health strains of splitting them up. On Sunday, the AIDS infected twin was not well. He was gasping and coughing. We toke him to the hospital. He seemed to not be to sick. As we admitted him and said goodbye he gave us an angry face and would not look us in the eye. We figured we would pick him up the next day. Monday morning we got a call from the hospital saying he had died. He was a beautiful beautiful baby. I am very glad I got to meet him.


-We came back from the hospital after saying goodbyes and our 5 month old girl was in near coma. I gave her some glucose and rushed back to the hospital. I kept her moving to keep her awake on the way there. They got her on a IV drip and she recovered a bit. Came back from the hospital and gave oxygen to a 4 year old with the physical body of a 1 year old and held her as she sweated herself to sleep in my arms. Than we went back to the hospital and picked up a new beautiful little baby boy. His parents both died of AIDS and he has no one. We brought him back here. In between all of this, I am grief counseling staff, and ended my Monday dancing wildly with some of the children to African music. Yesterday, we went to visit the 5 month old baby girl and she didn't look well. We loved on her and held her and talked to her. This morning she died. The smile and the eyes on this girl would have blown you away. She will be very very missed.
  Very humbling deep days.

-I have made a very great friend here. She doesn't put up with my shit. She is more intelligent than I. She's rough and knows what she wants. She makes me laugh by laughing. She has a little body. Her belly is swollen and puffed out because of her tired liver. Her mouth is full of herpes and thrush. Her scalp is covered in ringworm and fungus. She scratches her head till it bleeds. She has chicken pox. She has shingle blisters on her bum and legs so bad she can't sit. She has rashes and sores from head to toe. She has a hard time breathing because of the TB in her lungs. At night I put her on oxygen and she frequently wakes up coughing so hard she throws up. She eats extra everyday because she knows she will be throwing half of it up. As I am writing this on paper, I am holding her to me. It is very late and we are very tired. She vomited in her bed so we will soon go crawl into my bed again and pass out. She eats my terrible cooking. Laughs when I tickle her and covers her mouth for me when she coughs. She gives me a smack on my arm if I'm out of turn and tells me what to do, but has never said a word to me. I treasure our friendship. We take care of each other quite well. Shes 4.

-The kids love their bracelets. I emailed Traci to let her know that the kids got them. Her mother emailed me to tell me she passed away the day after recieving my email.