Medical Purgatory Part Three: A Miraculous Healing by Dr. Naomi Wolf:
"...The third week, we went to the wedding of friends of ours.
There I had a complete recovery I literally cannot explain.
June 2 was my surgery; June 3-5, my ICU stay. June 18-21 was our friends’ wedding.
The wedding was in Martha’s Vineyard, a storied location that already held a great deal of meaning for me, both positive and negative.
I’d visited there as a young mother with my first husband and with our then-toddler; as a single woman, I’d sailed there every summer for six years, alongside a man, whom I will call A., who had, not very long ago, passed away fairly young. A had been a close friend of the couple who were to marry that weekend. During our relationship, A. had caused me both happiness and great pain — pain that had had no closure in his lifetime.
And now I had the joy of returning with, and showing the island to, Brian, the love of my life.
It was healing for me emotionally, to return to the many haunts that held such memories for me, both bright and dark. As I shared smoked whitefish at Larson’s with Brian while we sat on lobster traps, looking at the boats in Menemsha harbor; or as we enjoyed the taffy scents and steaming hot dogs and gingerbread-fronted Victorian cottages painted ice-cream colors at Oak Bluffs; or even as we loaded our cart at a local supermarket with packets of chicken to contribute to our friends’ barbecue — somehow I healed.
Photo by
MV Vacation on
UnsplashThe present circled back over the middle of my life, the recent past, and then the present circled again over the distant past.
When Brian and I were at the setting where our friends’ wedding was to take place, a home at which A. had been omnipresent in his lifetime, I had walked down, with a group of old friends, to a rough column of heavy stones that a stonemason had assembled in the shape of a man, in memory of A.
The others each put a small round stone, taken from the ground, on one of the edges of the statue — a ledge at the height that a man’s shoulder would be. This placing of a small pile of stones at a memorial site, is a Jewish tradition in remembering the dead.
The statue, made of larger, heavy, hewn stones, was just about exactly the height that A. had been.
I too bent down, and picked up a small, smooth stone. Though the other stones were colored in greys and greyish-yellows, this stone was a deep oxblood color, and veined with white. It was just the right one, somehow.
I put it, too, on the ledge which was at the height of A’s shoulder.
As I did so, something passed right through me; an energy field, unmistakably his, like a quiet swarm of bees, walked right through me.
It seemed that we forgave one another.
#####
Later that night, there was a DJ and a dance floor, and I wanted to dance. I was so ready to dance, indeed, bopping around like a child, that Brian had to remind me that my doctor would not be okay with my dancing yet. “Let her dance!” someone yelled. We had to explain that I had recently had surgery. But I was dancing in my heart.
The next day, I was ready to walk without a cane. Somehow I walked all over the sloping green hills, all the way to Penobscot beach. I walked painlessly, easily, along the sand. I sat down painlessly and looked at the waves. I remembered the men, when they were younger — when one of them was still alive — dropping anchor from their boat, and diving into the green-grey waters, swimming to that shore; and emerging laughing.
Somehow I got up from the sand, that formerly impossible maneuver, without help. I climbed over dunes without help. Without help, without a cane, as if I could walk forever, I walked the couple of miles back to the celebration.
I watched my friends get married, and the heavens seemed to open over them; over us; as if true love were a palpable blessing dropped from a real celestial realm, to fall right onto our heads like warm rain; to fill our hands; to overflow.
True love embraced us, surrounded us all.
At breakfast the next morning, I was sitting with an old friend — a producer who is down-to-earth, secular, and matter-of-fact. To my knowledge, he does not have a mystical bent of any kind.
We were chatting quietly, both of us gazing idly toward a ruined stone building on the property, alongside which a table had been set, where food had been laid out.
A crowd of people was milling around the stone ruin, chatting, sipping coffee, hovering over the table of pastries, rolls and jams; or simply enjoying the sunshine. Brian was somewhere in that area as well.
The groom, looking joyful, appeared in the crowd, and started to walk down the hill. Both of us, my table-mate and I, continued looking in that direction.
Suddenly the groom was no longer visible.
The dead man emerged from the crowd; but he was not dead.
A. was present, looking more alive than ever. He appeared to be younger than when I had known him; slimmer, and healthier; indeed, he was glowing with health. His fair hair was parted on the side, as if in a style from earlier than the period in which I had known him. He walked down the slope of the hill, smiling broadly; joyfully supervising the festive activity. He was gesturing, as if pointing out, perhaps, where a tray should be placed, the kind of thing he often did at such gatherings, during his life on earth.
He was wearing a clean white shirt of very soft material, and clean khakis. He was not a translucent apparition, but a solid vision, it seemed, made of spirit. A. was fully present.
I wasn’t scared. I was definitely startled. I thought, Is this a hologram?
Very slowly, my extremely practical table-mate asked, “Are you seeing what I am seeing?”
“Do you mean….”
“That A. just showed up…” he said
“Right over there?” I said, gesturing.
“Yes,” he said solemnly.
We confirmed, calmly, that we were both witnessing the exact same thing.
Then when it all dissolved, a few long minutes later, we both independently confirmed that a return to the “normal” scene, without A., had taken place as well.
I wasn’t shaken. It seemed very natural, if quite surprising.
Of course, somehow, A. would be there.
Late that afternoon, Brian and I got back to our little hotel room in Menemsha. We were both exhausted, and wanted to rest before the evening’s activities would begin.
As he climbed into bed, he said, “Does A. have a brother?
I saw someone who looked just like him, standing by the stone ruin.”
#####
Brian and I drove home, and it was June 22 — just twenty days after my surgery. I can’t explain what happened then in simply physical terms, unless all of this is normal and bodies are just miraculous.
All my pain was simply gone, and it did not return. I could walk forever, it seemed — I had to stop myself, as I was directed not to over-exert; I could climb up and down steps effortlessly, march in place, do the bridges and partial squats my physical therapist assigned me — all with perfect comfort. My muscles and nerves and even my bones, that had been severed not three weeks before, all somehow knitted so rapidly that they all recovered their functions and sensation.
What had been an ugly, dark incision, closed completely, and healed over like magic, fading into the shade of the rest of my skin.
I did not even, do not even, understand the physics of how I could heal so rapidly.
My brain seems to have completely recovered — I have had no more scary episodes. I am working at full throttle. Now we are in Massachusetts, taking a break from the city, and I am walking, swimming, lounging again in the sun; and as soon as Fedex brings the oar that I bought from a sporting goods store for the folding kayak we have here, we’ll go kayaking.
Every day I drink my strange electrolyte concoction; I take my chlorophyll, my turmeric tonic, my Vitamin C. In my tradition, we fear celebrating good fortune too loudly, as we fear attracting misfortune by doing so — but I have to risk going against that tradition to share with you that I feel overwhelmingly blessed with boundless energy and a sense of wellbeing, and to explore, in case it is helpful to you too, the reasons why that crazy-complete recovery might have come about.
What is it? What did it?
Is it Dr Ealy’s profound insight about human biological systems, and his electrolyte drinks, and his dark green and dark brown droppers of soothing liquids?
Is it “heliotherapy”, that forgotten medical power of the sun?
Is it the emotional healing of laying the restless ghosts of the past to rest; and of bringing the love of my life for the first time into what had been a fraught and painful, but also a special, place?
Is it one more strange piece of evidence, right in front of my face this time, that we last forever, that we are far more than our physical bodies, and that death does not really exist?
Is it the skill of my surgeon, and the body’s normal recovery process?
Is it all of this?
#####
I have been very ill, ill to near-death, or very broken; and recovered in extraordinary ways, very quickly; three times in just four years.
What does all that mean?
Maybe my crazily complete and speedy healing, over and over again, three times as in a fairy tale — is also due to one thing more;
Which I will share with you, dear friend, with love,
In my next essay." .......
If there is a crime, of course we all want video.
But we’ve already been surveilled by creeps like Jack Dorsey, Bill Gates and Zuckface. Not to mention the Chris Wray, John Brennan, Barack Obiden NSA State and Chief Justice Johnny Cartel’s FISA Farce. Supposedly for F.oreigners, they quickly learned how to target domestic political opponents with it.
Sure, it can help solve crimes. But so can opening all our mail, tapping every phone and putting a tracker under our skin. Where does it stop? The authorities have proven they cannot be trusted with legit powers, let alone expanded powers.
Do we want a ticket to issue mechanically every time a car goes one mile per hour over the speed limit?
A Georgia deputy was recently fired for using Flock to track people he knew. I suspect he was stalking women with it. But how many aren’t caught?
Another woman was charged by a deputy for stealing packages off a porch because Flock said she entered and left town at the time of the crime. But get this; he also said Ring Doorbell captured her stealing, which was false. BUT IT WAS AN ADMISSION THAT FLOCK IS TIED INTO RING DOORBELL FOR TOTAL SURVEILLENCE.
Flock says it deletes after 30 days. But is that a law or just policy? And do they sell that info before allegedly “deleting”?
They can indeed sometimes take a criminal off the streets.
But at what cost? You can stop all bank robberies–by making everyone wear a shock collar.
Looks like RING is corrupted at the corporate level. Few can seem to resist.
Ring’s privacy failures led to spying and harassment through home security cameras | Consumer Advice
Meanwhile , Palantir wants a Full-Surveillance State and seem to have a friend in J.D. Vance.
We are citizens, not subjects and targets. And we say NO.