I felt a turmoil within me. Visible and not so much visible signs and facts and figures show that there is still something wrong with me, health-wise. After a gynaecologist-oncologist professor, a gynaecologist associate professor, a dermatologist professor, a dermatologist oncologist, an oncologist associate professor, a plain oncologist, a sonographer head physician, an oncoplastic surgeon, a plain plastic surgeon, an psycho-oncologist and two assistants said after seeing my results they’ have no clue what is going on, I didn’t feel much better.
I went to see Réka (we are doing the Simonton therapy together). She sent me to alpha state, to ask my sickness, what the hell is going on.
I found myself wandering on a forest path. I’ve been there in reality many-many years ago, riding my bike downhill along a wide concrete road under the shadows of wonderful beech trees. This time I was going uphill. Walking. Alone. I soon recognized the sickness, it reminded me of a tiny spitfire, spiralling 100 feet above me as a black plume of smoke.
I said Come on over here, I want to talk to you.
– No way.- he answered
– Oh, yes you are! –I reached out and pulled him down, and with the same dash, I put him into the open whole of a rotten tree trunk.
I didn’t trust him he was going to stay there, so I covered the hole with a metal sheet and I neatly pinned it around with rivets.
But it’s no good to talk like this, and anyway, I know it will be out of its cell in no time. So OK, I removed the metal sheet. It stayed put. He didn’t fly away.
– Why are you following me? Why don’t you leave me alone? – I asked.
– Cause you’re too easy of a prey, it’s too easy to get you.
- No, I’m not, I’m much stronger now, you can’t just hurl me down on the ground. Go and get someone else. No, don’t get anyone else, that’s no good either, wait… why don’t you just turn to dust in the air and fall down as ash. No, that’s no good either… I don’t want any particle of you to fall on anyone’s head at all. Got it! – I screamed out – Transform!
In that instant the black smoke turned into a bright, sparkling piece of diamond and rose up high, and continued dancing there. (I presume this is where my daughter’s My Little Pony cartoon era flashed, but I’m trying to take this thing seriously.)
I’m not saying it was a sight for sour eyes, but I was satisfied for sure. I turned my back on him, did not say goodbye, cause we did not make friends after all, and my work done, I started to go back on tha path. He wanted to play some trick on me and began to rush at me from the air, as if he was still black smoke. Without turning back I raised my right arm and said in a tired but firm voice: Not funny!
As if trying a silly joke, it buzzed off with an embarrassed smile on its face.
Then I heard Réka’s voice saying, ok let’s go back on our path now, and began counting back from 5. Seriously, how does she always know when to speak?
