Thursday, October 25, 2007

HIV AIDS in Body Mind Spirit Integration


By January 1994 Michael had been admitted to Twelve Oaks Hospital, and on a cold January night I went over to visit. Feigning a warm hello to the receptionist, I thought about how many times I’d ridden this elevator car to the AIDS floor and wondered again why I had remained healthy, potent and alive when so many had dwindled away in pain.

Utterly helpless, I stood outside Michael’s room, trying to muster up a thin cheerfulness before I entered. Michael lay quiet but alert as I kissed him on the cheek. His mother, Mary Lou, busied herself with little chores, and Jon (aka Cha-Cha), Michael’s roommate, sat near the bed. In hushed whispers he filled me in: “He can go anytime. Dr. Rios says there’s nothing else to be done.”

My usual chatty cheer, however strained, vaporized in the inevitability of my friend’s death. I had no words. So I did what I have always done: I went to work, offering Michael a foot rub. He mumbled his assent as I pulled up a chair, grabbed some coconut lotion, and un-tucked the sheets. I began with the right foot, gently pushing, pulling, and rolling. As I rubbed, pressed and stroked his feet I conjured all the love I felt for this man and pooled it in my breaking heart. As I continued, I feebly directed my love through my hands into his feet and to his heart, and silently thanked him for all the fun and friendship we’d shared. But I did not cry. I haven’t cried for years. As I finished with his left foot, Michael gave me a cold look and pulled both his feet up toward his butt, signaling he’d had enough. I visited for a while longer then said good night, kissing Michael on the cheek as I left.

It was late and I felt weary to the bone. I debated whether to turn off the ringer of my phone, as I always did, finally deciding a full night’s sleep was more important than the sad news I was expecting. When I woke up the next morning, my mind still tired, the light on the answering machine blinked. Sure enough it was Jon, telling me, “It’s all over. Michael died peacefully about 3:00 am. Call when you can.” I sat motionless; Charlie, my Burmese cat, sensed my despair and hopped lightly onto me. I petted him absentmindedly as he licked my hand, eventually curling up in my lap. I sat, unmoving, with Charlie for a long time, until I had to shower and go to work.




Love your way,

Alan Davidson, founder of
http://www.throughyourbody.com/
and author of Body Brilliance:
Mastering Your Five Vital
Intelligences (IQs)’

http://bodybrilliancebook.com/bbb_movie/

Watch the Body Brilliance Movie

Dedicated to our healthy, happy, and prosperous world through the full enlightenment of every human being.

Through Your Body
1103 Peveto St.
Houston, TX 77019
713-942-0923

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

I'm not sure exactly why but this website is loading extremely slow for me. Is anyone else having this problem or is it a problem on my end? I'll check back later and see if the
problem still exists.

Review my website :: vakantiehuisjes huren

Anonymous said...

We stumbled over here coming from a different page and thought I might as well check things out.
I like what I see so i am just following you. Look forward
to looking into your web page yet again.

Check out my webpage: particuliere vakantiehuizen