Earlier this morning, I was contemplating health. I was contemplating healing.
When my mother had a brain tumor, someone who spent more time in college than she did suggested she fantasize about some sort of healing scenario. This manifested, so she told me, as teddy bears slowly mining away at the cancerous tissues. It probably didn't do anything medically, but it brought her comfort.
I wonder about my mother sometimes.
Once she told me a heart monitor she was hooked up to stopped beeping and started saying, to her, "help me, help me, help me, help me, help me." Hearing her tell me about this was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. I was sternly warned about lying and flights of fancy as a child, mostly by my mother, so to hear her recount something like this, it was the burning hot truth of the thing.
Mom was quite religious, she was certain of the power of the man called Christ. As sure as putting your foot on the gas would make the car go faster, Jesus was a force to her. If memory serves, she inspired other people to be more religious.
Religion caused a rift between us-myself and my mother- early on.
Certain things I found preposterous. Other things I found downright unfair. Somethings were plain violations.
But it all brought her comfort. Jesus. Scripture. The teddy bears. These distant, strange ideas some how made her happy, and helped her through pain. To be fair, there was a lot of pain. Who knows what you'll start believing if you're in enough pain. Not like, torture pain, but pain like wind blowing, pain like birds singing. Always there, sometimes more and sometimes less, but always there.
I've been trying to understand it lately, as I've been waking up injured every morning since two Tuesdays ago. It's odd. I tried to imagine my bones knitting on their own, like the character Wolverine in the X-men movies. Some loud sound effects, some popping, and good as new.
I felt no better.
I tried to picture to the teddy bears, and felt stupid.
Earlier this morning, I found something that brought me a great deal of hope. Not religion or scripture, but something vaguely like the teddy bears.
The break is nearly complete in my right carpal. It looks like a piece of bamboo snapped almost completely off. From there, I imagined spiders lived inside the marrow. Tiny, pure white spiders crawl from the places where marrow is made, and start flinging their spinnerets to and fro between the broken bones, inching them together gradually.
I have no rational reason for this kind of thinking, except that it brings me comfort.