The Sick and the Dying.

It’s been a really hard week; we buried another friend from childhood yesterday, after a long and painful fight we have all watched from the sidelines. He didn’t want to die, and never stopped saying so until the very end: an element that leaves a much more impossibly bitter taste to swallow in everyone’s mouth. In my experience thus far until his death last week, people usually get a sense of relief with the death of a loved one who has been suffering badly in life – but not this time. His absolute unwillingness to die makes it difficult to find that relief anywhere in this specific context. And, it feels really bad.

Jackson is sick; like, really sick with some despicable strain of pneumonia or something and has been hospitalized since last week. Jack saved my life once; he saw it all, while he was still a paramedic in the armpit of America, where I was almost killed by my ex-husband.

Jack is the underlying reason for any of what might resemble “recovery” in my own case. It is often somehow easy for me to forget from day to day: exactly how much I owe this man when it comes down to it. If circumstances had been shifted even slightly in regard to who they sent out in the ambulance to my crime scene, he would be totally absent from my world; in actuality – there would be no world for him to be absent from, because I would not have recovered as I have without Jackson.

The more I think about it, the more it becomes obvious that he truly adopted me on the day I almost lost my life, unknown to my near-dead brain at the time. And the afterwards; well all I can really say about “the afterwards” is that without that man there to assure and comfort and baby me like did (and does), I would have been so ruined by humanity that I would likely be in an asylum. There simply aren’t enough Gods to offer my prayers to when it comes to Jack’s recovery and homecoming. Had I opened my eyes as the maimed and Frankenstein-esque creature I had become to anyone other than Jackson in the exact way that I did, and if even the slightest thing played out differently, I easily could’ve slipped into sheer madness from it all.

In the spirit of rescue and recovery, please send any good energy to Jackson if you’re reading this.

The Cut Throat Club.

Jack, the EMT.

18 thoughts on “The Sick and the Dying.

  1. prospermind says:

    Sending lots of positive thoughts and good energy, along with a few virtual hugs your and Jackson’s way.
    Life is so damn short and on top of that, it’s also a though pill to swallow sometimes.
    Best wishes.

  2. Sending positive vibes your way and Jackson’s.

  3. Rita says:

    All the love and healing energy I can muster sent to Jackson. ❤️❤️❤️

  4. I hope all ends well, Beautiful. Love and hugs to you and Jackson. x

  5. tric says:

    Oh my goodness you are really going through a tough time.
    When I was nursing I only saw one ever who fought and raged to the end. He was only 19 and I’ve never forgotten it. Compared to all the calm peaceful deaths it was awful.
    I will light a candle here in Ireland later tonight and as I do I’ll end as much positive thoughts as I can. I hope he makes a good recovery real soon, for both your sakes.

  6. JMC813 says:

    Prayers to the Gods, and hope for perfect alignment of every star for Jackson. It happened once, it can hopefully happen again.

  7. I am sorry for your loss. My best healing wishes to Jackson, now and for a good while to come.

  8. wbdeejay says:

    Positive energies sent, to both of you.