I have found my village. It’s called Red Room/where the writers are. Where friends are too, I’ve discovered. How comforting it is to be able to let it all hang out regarding my impending heart surgery and not be concerned about commas, or periods, or spelling (thanks to spellcheck) and know that Dr. Jitu, and Ellen, and Huntington, and so many of you are thinking of me and offering kind words of support. What a wonderful new world this is in so many ways. We connect across time zones, somewhere in time, old souls who know each other though we have never met in person...or perhaps we have, in another lifetime, in a book, in a dream, in our imagination, in a quandary.
So many things to laugh about even during my health crisis. When I told Dr. Sheila Krystal the therapist who taught me visualizations and whom I write about in Whispers, that my aortic valve was going to be replaced by one from a cow, she said it should be from a sacred cow in India. I thought that was a great idea, tissue in my body from a sacred cow. Well, Holy Cow! One of my doctors laughed and said Pat, sacred cows are sacred, they don’t kill them. I loved how silly I was to have actually entertained that idea long enough to tell my doctor! See how far gone I am? But my wonderful and indulgent doctor went on to say that we could find a cow, douse it with holy water, bless it, and then have it slaughtered.
Thank God for a sense of humor, an imperative for Staying Alive.
Causes Pat Montandon Supports
PETA, Women for Women, Amnesty International, Children as the Peacemakers, Peace to The Planet