And the Glass Shattered

Photo taken by Meire Marion

Cold, dark Tuesday morning, fourth period, the students got up from their tense and heartbreaking class and assembled to leave the room. It had been a tense class due to the fact that their written tests had been returned and besides the low grades, the opinions differed on what the students thought were the right answers and what the correct answers actually were. There were lots of arguments, negative energy in the air, evil thoughts. Not from everyone of course, but mainly from the professor who was going through a rough time with his health and family affairs.

This particular professor was known to have special powers and it seemed that nowadays these powers had faded. Patience, justice, kindness, empathy, and a knack for using music to teach his lessons were just some of the professor’s special powers. Some former students were even convinced that the professor could read minds in addition to having eyes in the back of his head. Apparently these powers were stashed away inside during the past few weeks, which had to be due to the norms of the institution. The professor was very sad about the changes in the attitude of the students, parents and the people who ruled the school, not to mention some of the co-workers. The times were changing; the younger generation was at war with the older generation; and to be honest, both of them were lost. Despite all of this, one could not tell that the light was dimming inside the professor due to the warm smile that the professor wore most of the times, especially while roaming the school halls.

However, in Room D2 there was no need to smile all the time. To be more precise, there was something in that classroom that transformed even the sweetest being into something gruesome. In that classroom students were mean to each other by laughing when someone made a mistake in grammar or pronunciation; some of the boys like to beat each other up (give the other boys wedgies); some of the students played on their cell phones during classes; others chatted; and some even slept. It was hell. At one point, the professor even thought of giving up the job, believing that he was to blame for all of these sad actions that took place. However, the little strand of faith in him made him get up every morning and go.

Cold, dark Tuesday morning, the students gather their material, get up and prepare to storm out of the room before the bell when all of a sudden there is a loud sound of glass shattering. The professor cries out for the students to protect themselves and to move away from the windows. The students start to say that they hadn’t done anything. The professor is worried whether anyone has been hurt.

An acute pain is felt by the professor, who knew that the signal had been given. Shattered dreams; broken hearts; ruined relationships, all of which were represented by the act of the glass breaking. The professor knew that that window exploding by itself was a notice of possible danger; a warning that the energy in that room needed to be improved. Hate, mistrust, arrogance, cheating, belly land, and competition needed to be removed from that place.

With the shattered glass all over the place, the professor was hit with a feeling that the change needed to come from him. Indeed he had special powers; the power of prayer. When the room emptied out, the professor got on his knees and prayed.

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(Written May 28, 2013- based on a glass window that broke in the author’s classroom by accident.) 
copyright ©2013 - Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion.

The Expensive Vase

The abrupt prickling ring of the telephone woke her up to the news that a colleague was in hospital. Later on at work, together with a few other colleagues, she decided that it would be kind to go and pay the patient, who was very dear to everyone, a visit, which seemed like the appropriate thing to do.

They all met at the hospital reception and one of the boys had bought really long stemmed bright red roses. Everyone was surprised to see that the stem was as long as his legs. He was a pretty tall guy and the size of those stems was unbelievable, the bright blood roses were beautiful though.

The gang questioned him about not having cut the stems; he responded that he thought they were unique just like the colleague in hospital. It was a sweet thought. However, they would need to buy a vase to put them in. Certainly the hospital would not have a vase for the roses in the room. She hadn’t had time to buy a gift so she told the group she would do it.

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To the left of the reception desk there was a counter that not only sold flowers, but also sold vases, just their luck. They walked over there and found a vase that was as tall as her legs; perfect for the long stemmed roses. She took the vase and handed it over to one of the boys. The group headed towards the elevators as she stayed behind to pay for the vase.

“That´ll be $2, 500 dollars please” kindly asked the salesperson.

“Oh my! I don´t have that amount of money”

“I´m afraid you´ll have to give the vase back then.”

She dashed towards the elevators, but the group was nowhere to be seen. She pressed the elevator button and waiting for the longest time, nonetheless she didn´t know where she was heading. She was so nervous that her mind went blank. Besides, she didn’t get the information when she was at the reception desk, one of the boys did. It was no use taking the elevator. Therefore, she headed back towards the reception area to find out the room number.

“This patient has just been discharged and left the hospital a few minutes ago” said the receptionist. “Didn’t you notice the large group that came to escort her home?”

She was furious. How could the group of colleagues have left her there? Was she that insignificant? These questions boggled her mind. Nonetheless, she still needed to get the vase back otherwise her credit would be blocked and she could even be charged with theft. Not only that, but she had to leave a document behind to make sure she’s come back otherwise the shop could press charges.

As she walked to the parking lot, she tried calling up some of the colleagues but no one answer their phones. So, she called her brother and told him what had happened and asked him if he would accompany her to the patient’s house to retrieve the vase. He agreed and in no time she stopped by his office to pick him up.

They had driven nearly an hour before they finally reached their destination. Their eyes lit up like firecrackers at the sight; the street had been blocked and everywhere flowers and candles could be seen. The smell was as if they had reached a perfume factory. It was beautiful. However, how were they going to reach the house?

“Stop the car”, yelled a man dressed in a black suit as he threw himself in front of the car.

“Invitation”, he demanded.

“Invitation for what?” she asked afraid of what the answer would be.

“This is a private party for the patient´s return home. Invitations have been sent via email. You are only allowed through if you have one, otherwise, you will have to turn the car around and come back another day. You can show it to me on your smart phone.”

“But I work with her. I did not receive any invitation and besides, all I need to do is pick something up. I promise I won’t even stay for the celebration.”

“I am sorry Miss. Those are my orders.” As he said this, he waved his hands around like a butterfly, which was an indication for her to maneuver the car.

“What are we going to do now? I really need to get that vase and take it back to the store.” They had followed the orders from the man dressed in black and drove away.

As she said this her brother saw a shiny object in one of the windows. “Look over there. Is that the vase?”

“Yes!” she happily shouted. She abruptly stopped the car and turned off the engine.

“I have a plan. You stay here. I will sneak into that house, grab the vase and run back here as fast as I can without being noticed. Everyone is over there at the party anyway.”

“You´re out of your mind!  You know that if you are caught, you will be sent to prison.” He paused. “Just go over there, ring the doorbell and explain what happened and get the vase.”

“What if there is no one at home? I’ll have to take it. We are running out of time and also wasting time talking about it.”

Having said this, she got out of the car and casually but carefully walked to the house; looking over her shoulders. She reached the front door and checked the doorknob; it was unlocked - just her luck. She looked around and didn´t see anyone. This was too good to be true. She walked over to where the vase was, carefully took the roses out, opened the window and spilled the water on the lawn. Cautiously she picked up the vase and wrapped it in her coat.

As she was walking to the car, she heard someone call her name. She tried to keep her cool. The fear that she had been caught red handed and would go to jail ran up and down her spine. When she turned around the vase slipped from her fingers and it crashed into a million pieces. All of a sudden time stopped and the scene of the vase crashing on the ground played over and over again before her eyes, just like the movies.

“Oh no!” she cried repeatedly.

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(Written March 3, 2013 –based on a dream I had)
copyright ©2013 - Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion.

Beautiful but Deadly

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It was a regular morning class and although the students were tired and sleepy, they did their best to pay attention and participate in the tasks given. The teacher was a bit tired too for there had been a meeting the night before and it took her quite a while to fall asleep when she arrived home.

The windows were open to let in some fresh air, however, being that the school was smack in the middle of downtown, pollution filled the room; one deep breath and you would cough. On this particular day the class was about the environment and what could be done to save the planet.

In the middle of a discussion about the best way to preserve water, little beautiful white particles flew in through the window. They were similar to snowflakes under a telescope, shaped differently landing on the students´ heads, hair and arms. The students were marveled at the spectacle that was going on. They observed them and smiled.

The teacher all of sudden felt a sharp shiver up her spine. “Run, Carol! Go and fetch help!” Carol started to scream as she witnessed what was happening to her classmates. “What is happening?” Carol cried out as she ran out the room. “Go get help!” the teacher desperately cried out. Carol was sitting alone next to the door and the particles had not reached her.

What did Carol witness? Carol simply froze at the sight. The snowflake like particles turned into beautiful different colors as the sun shone on them. It seemed like the prism; the colors lit up each spot that it touched. All of a sudden, the students started to rip off their flesh. It was a horror scene something like a scene from the movie I am Legend.  It seemed like they were taking apart of the TV show The Walking Dead. With each yanking of the skin, blood shot out like fire hoses and the students screamed, cried, and looked at each other begging the next person to help them stop this slaughtering. As they tried to wipe off the particles from each other, they also removed the flesh off that person. The teacher yelled at Carol, “Run and get help! Save yourself!”

Meanwhile, Bernie, a rather quiet boy who always called the teacher’s attention with his misbehavior, was a bit far away from the students who were being torn into pieces. Instead of racing out the door together with Carol, he got up, ran up to the teacher and hugged her. “Bernie, what are you doing? Go save yourself.” He held on tighter. “What is going to happen to us now, teacher?” Bernie was in tears he didn’t know what to do and now it was just too late to run to safety. The beautiful colorful snowflake like particles landed on his nose. Meanwhile the teacher was speechless and paralyzed in that hug covered in blood, perhaps Bernie’s blood. The point is that she could not do anything. She had been caught in that horrific scene. Help did not come. There was only pain, screams, cries, blood and death.

 

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(Written: May 2, 2013 – Story based on a dream I had the night before)

copyright ©2013 - Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion.

ABPM

Ambulatory Blood Pressure Monitoring (ABPM) is when your blood pressure is being measured as you move around, living your normal daily life. It is normally carried over 24 hours. It uses a small digital blood pressure machine that is attached to a belt around your body and which is connected to a cuff around your upper arm. It small enough that you can go about your normal daily life and even sleep with it on. This is the technical definition. However, undergoing this procedure is surely no fun and very painful for someone who suffers from Fibromyalgia (FM or FMS) which is characterized by chronic widespread pain and allodynia (a heightened and painful response to pressure).

During the ABMP exam, the monitor goes on every 20 minutes during the day and every 30 minutes at night. Therefore, what happens is, your arm is squeezed so tightly that it literally feels like it is going to pop every time the monitor goes on. This is what a normal person feels.

Now a person who suffers from Fibromyalgia feels the same thing but ten times stronger. Actually the eyes well every 20 minutes as the cuff around your left arm is inflated. These 20 minutes seem like a life time. It squeezes and squeezes and then it stops and deflates, relieving you from the treacherous 20 minutes. Not to mention when there is an inaccurate reading and the machine goes on again inflating the cuff just few minutes before the last attempt causing tears to roll down your cheeks.

While I was undergoing this exam, the machine made several inaccurate attempts when I was driving. Now, mind you, I drive a stick shift car, so every time the machine went on I was supposed to lower my left arm and let it hang. Stuck in traffic doing that wasn’t a problem, however, the problem was maneuvering in the garage and just keeping the car in a straight line while driving on the highway. There came a moment that I stopped the car and turned on my emergency lights because the machine had made two inaccurate attempts to measure my blood pressure and going through a third trial was stifling painful. This was when I broke down in tears. It is supposed to be an exam where you can go on with your daily routine, yeah right.

Sleeping with this THING on was horrifying. Every 30 minutes I would be woken up. Sometimes it is easy to fall back asleep when I am awakened suddenly in the middle of the night. But on this specific night, with each beep of the machine, I jumped in bed. There were moments that falling asleep again never happened because by the time you were almost asleep, it would go on again.

The ironic part of all of this is that you need to keep a log of the activities that you do during the day like physical activities or anything stressful that may happen. Then on the report there is the question: How well did you sleep? Very well. Well. Not bad. Not well. Of course I answered, not well. However, the thought that came to my mind is: Does anybody ever answer, very well? I doubt it.

The following morning is perhaps one of the most joyful; time to have this THING removed. When it is removed this rotten odor reaches the nostrils. It is very unpleasant, so much so, that the doctor uses alcohol to clean the arm and try to remove the stench. And as I looked at my arm, I felt sorry for it because it was red and for sure some parts would turn black and blue over the next couple of days.

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(Written May 3, 2013)

copyright ©2013 - Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion.

What I think about when I walk in the park...

Walking in the park has been a very important act for me in the past two years. Besides getting the exercise, which relieves the pain I feel in my legs, it also soothes my heart and soul. Observing the sights and sounds makes the 4k walk less of a strenuous act.

Birds chirping, dogs barking, people talking, people laughing, children crying, children playing, and feet stomping  are such wonderful and intriguing sounds. Each step that I take I ask myself what the people are laughing about and what they are talking about.

Photo by Meire Marion at Parque da Aclimacão ( Brazil )

Sometimes it is possible to grasp bits and pieces of conversation as I walk past someone, like the woman on the phone who was telling her friend about a one night stand she had. She was actually giving away all the details that entailed the event. Her conversation could be heard for about 100 meters, she spoke so loudly, but she didn’t seem to care.

Photo by Meire Marion at Parque da Aclimacão ( Brazil )

Not only women walk and talk on their cell phones, but men do too. Just the theme of their talk is different. Once I heard a man on the phone who was trying to convince the person on the other side that he should invest a large amount of money on livestock. This was a baffling piece of information. It made me question why not gold or something else other than livestock.  Every time I walked past him, he was still talking about cows, pigs, chickens and goats.

There are a bunch of people that walk by with earphones on. I always wonder what tunes they are listening to, however, there are those that forget that their voices are not connected to the earphones and their sometimes out-of-tune voices can be heard. Not to mention those who have the worst taste for music and play it as loud as they can so they can share their music with everyone else in the place. It is so annoying and most of the time it is one of those songs that stick in your mind all day long.

Photo by Meire Marion at Parque da Aclimacão ( Brazil )

There are some days during the week that the police and the fire brigade go to the park to work out. They usually jog and put together obstacle courses. I have seen some of them who are pretty out of shape. But I always wonder if they shouldn’t be doing that on their own time. I mean, the fire brigade actually parks the huge fire truck in the middle of the park; the men get dressed into red shorts and a white t-shirt in the truck and then get back into their uniforms before they drive away. No showers?

Photo by Meire Marion at Parque da Aclimacão ( Brazil )

Now I have seen the police officers run to the park in large packs; of fifteen at a time in their blue shorts and white t-shirts. It is fun watching them run for they usually sing songs which are pretty amusing.

So, to empty my mind when I walk in the park, I try to guess what the other people are thinking about. I also make up stories about their careers, personal lives and every once in a while I run into some one I know, stop a bit for a chat and then walk on to complete my 4k walk.

Photo by Meire Marion at Parque da Aclimacão ( Brazil )

(Written: April 26, 2013)copyright ©2013 - Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion.

Death: it is not up to us to decide or is it?

On a rainy Saturday morning he lost the love of his life. It was supposed to be a luncheon with the girls down by the beach when all of a sudden part of the road fell and there was a landslide. She was driving and two of her girlfriends were in the car. Horror struck them as they saw all that mud and water come their way. She decided to get out of the car. Why she did that no one will never know. She was hit by a tree trunk and the current of mud took her downhill. Her girl friends stayed in the car. Perhaps she would have survived if she had just stayed behind the driver’s seat. Those were the thoughts that came to his mind when he had to go down to the morgue to identify the corpse. He didn’t want to do it, but there was no way out. Besides if he didn’t, who would?

All these thoughts ran through his mind as he sat on the ledge of the balcony on the 12^th floor. He was about to put an end to his misery. The love of his life had departed at such an early age. They had been together for ten years, seven as a married couple and had a six-year-old daughter. The image of his daughter came to mind too, but he knew that she’d be better off with her grandparents on her mother’s side, with whom she was already spending most of her time since his wife had passed away. He knew that she would suffer a bit, but kids know how to deal with death better than adults, so he thought. Ever since her mother had died, she would cry herself to sleep and pretend that everything was fine so her dad would cheer up a bit. Little did he know that she was faking it. Perhaps if he knew, he wouldn’t be sitting on the balcony ledge preparing to put an end to his misery.

As he swung his legs he had a moment of reflection as to what he was about to do. He was young. He could fall in love again. Maybe it wouldn’t be as strong as what he felt towards his deceased wife. But perhaps it would be stronger. However, he did not want to find out. He had his mind set in ending his life right then and there. Three months had gone by that the love of his life had been taken away from him. How could God have done that? Now, he was prepared to meet her wherever she was.

He took a deep breath and jumped. His life did not flash before his eyes as he was being pulled to the ground by gravity. He decided to open his eyes because his wife had died with her eyes open. She had seen what was coming towards her and so he wanted to see it too; death. However, all he saw was the clear blue water in the swimming pool coming closer and closer. He had miscalculated. He fell in the pool. He did not meet death; only many broken ribs and most of his teeth.

As he was lying in the hospital bed all he could think about was how stupid he had been to try to take away his own life. What a coward he was. How selfish to cause more pain onto his daughter. What an ungrateful human being. How could he think that he had the power to end his life? To him it was very clear now that it was not up to him, a mere mortal, to take away the gift that had been given to him: life.

 

Photo by Meire  Marion ( the view from the 8th floor balcony )

(written April 25, 2013)
copyright ©2013 - Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion.

M R I

She was told to be at the lab 30 minutes before her scheduled MRI (magnetic resonance imaging). She managed to be there by 10:20, traffic was really good for a change. Her exam was scheduled for 11:00. After getting the paperwork all signed up, she sat down and waited for her name to be called. She had been at that lab around the same time last year. This was becoming a regular test in her life like a mammogram and blood work. They would take her up to the second floor, ask her to get into some scrubs and then stick her in the machine that reminded her of a pizza oven for 40 minutes or so. No sweat.

She sat down next to an elderly woman and pulled out her book from her bag. She had just started reading “The White Massai” by Corinne Hoffman (The romance of Swiss woman Corinne Hoffman and Kenyan warrior Lketinga.), fascinated by the story she glanced at her watch when she was about to start chapter 6. Shocked it was quarter past 11 and no one had called her name. But since she had been so involved in the novel, she might not have heard her name being called so she decided to go and ask one of the attendants. The same attendant who had filled out her paperwork was also shocked that she hadn’t been called yet. Therefore, she called up the lab to find out what was going on. She apologized and said that the patient before her had panicked in the machine and there would be a 20 minute delay.

She went back to her book and soon enough a man who did not smile dressed in white called her name. He took her to the second floor and as he pointed to a dressing room she handed her a hospital gown to get into. She was confused and wondered why they had gotten rid of the scrubs. Perhaps they were trying to reduce the laundry bill. Maybe the gown was better because one size fits all and the scrubs they had to guess if you were small, medium, large or extra large (What about the people who were bigger? That had come to mind the last time she had undergone the exam.)

She closed the door, put on the lilac gown that smelled like fabric softener; it was nice. Locked all her belongings in a closet and removed the key. She opened the door and the man who did not smile called her into his office and asked her a bunch of questions. Pain? Where? How long? All the time? She was tired of having to tell her story over and over again after all almost two years had gone by and no one had discovered what the matter was. She was getting tired of being some one’s step to a Nobel Prize or whatever prize you get in medicine for having discovered some kind of new disease.

The man who did not smile asked her to wait outside in the waiting room that soon she would go into the exam room. Soon? More like half an hour went by before she was finally led into the MRI room.

“A blanket? Just a sheet then? Please lay down with your head touching the tip of the tray.” said the man who did not smile. Yes it looked like a try that was going to slide the body into the pizza oven. He placed the bell in her hand just in case she needed anything while she was in the machine. She knew that she had to stay put and not move an inch otherwise they would have to redo it.

In the pizza oven she focused on not moving, not falling asleep and hoping the 30 minutes that she would be in there would fly by. An MRI machine produces many loud and different sounds. Ever since she started do this exam she had always heard words instead of just sounds.

Run. Run. Run. Run. Death. Death. Death. Death. “No that won’t do," she thought. Another sound. Corpse rot. Corpse rot. Corpse rot.” Why is my mind producing these words? “ Then all of a sudden she started to hear the names of her ex- boyfriends. Her heart started to beat a bit faster. “Oh no not a panic attack.” She was starting to sweat and realized that she had to do something for this time it was not a smooth ride. She decided to pray.

The tray was yanked out and the man who did not smile said he’d have to give her a contrast agent injection. She had been expecting this because it had happened in the previous exams. But what she wasn’t expecting was that he missed the vain in her left arm and tried again on her hand. With the sting running in the veins she knew that this time he had done a good job. However, all of these mishaps were making her exhausted. Back in the scanner she went.

After a few minutes, she was yanked out again and was told that the lab doctor wanted to scan her skull. She questioned the man who did not smile because her neurologist had only asked for her spine to be examined. Did she have a choice? No she did not. So back in the machine she went. This time she had to control her tears. Emotions were bursting out of her pours. She felt like a bag of potatoes, a guinea pig, being poked at thrown here and there. As these feelings started filling her mind and heart, she was yanked out of the machine.

After two hours she could change into her own clothes and finally go home.

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(Written: April 25, 2013)

copyright ©2013 - Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion.