a woman here

there is a woman here with whom I have been struggling.

she is a humble soul

today, when my mother came to see me after a visit to Long Island for the funeral of one of their very best old friends, she drew me up off my knees, where I landed after idling praying the Divine Mercy Chaplet, St. Faustina’s humble and magnificent prayer for the worst and most recalcitrant sinners.  I went from idle to mighty as this prayer took me to the moment where I crashed 24 years ago after having a first-trimester abortion on the (questionably) last day of the first trimester.  The point is you can’t do a first-trimester abortion after the last day of the first trimester, and it might have been too late, no way to know.  They did an ultrasound.  I refused to look at the picture.  I was dry eyed.  I was merciless.

The first abortion was without anesthetic.  I was yelling epithets at the non-English speaking practitioner who was supposed to talk to me after examining me but that was a lie.  He just started after verifying that I was pregnant.  The needles to anesthetize the cervix were so painfully I was practically screaming.  I don’t know which was worse, that, or waking up sobbing from the anesthetic of the second abortion thinking I was dying.  We took off North for San Francisco for our first wedding anniversary.  What a mess.  It was on our return a couple of days later that I felt the loss set in, I didn’t really understand.  Somehow I knew to think I was going to hell.

When I had my born son I was cycling through four moods every day, and one was the threatening onset of a feeling of grief, misery, terror over the abortion.  While I was carrying him I was keenly aware that he came too soon after her, I was sure it was a her.  After a while things started aborting all the time, thoughts, decisions, especially writing.


Anyway this person who threatens me here seems to have some sort of moral claim over me.

She claims she has not ever had anal sex, that she has virtue over me there.  That went down the other night.  From the beginning she has claimed some sort of piety and humility through being simple and pious even though she doesn’t specifically claim religious piety.  She has been homeless and can claim street smarts.  She threatened to lose it on somebody yesterday and I am afraid she means me,  She seems to get upset whenever anything is looking up for me, so moments after my praying the Divine Mercy Chaplet this afternoon and then falling to my knees on the pillow I have been keeping handy (I pray they don’t take it away) when I recognized that this was the end of 25 years of dread and grief, and I got up as my mother had arrived for visiting hours, I heard them mention her name in the nurses station and as my mother and I sat down she plummeted unto the hallway and was banging on the plexiglass surrounding the nurses station and pounding on it and climbing on it like an ape.


Dear, [ —], I won’t give your name but I will certainly pray for you that you clean up your life and figure out how to resolve your issues in a better way than they have been teaching you here.  I won’t let go of you for the way you have used me.  I am humble too and I have been used by far worst customers.

Get away from me girl.

Bless St. Isodore, to whom I was called here from my knees where I was stuck in prayer in my bedroom which is right by the phone in the nurses station which is the only one we can use as the patient phone which is broken and they aren’t fixing it.




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