Hey, Metch:

I'm so glad you stopped by. Yes, I do manage to keep the table cleared off. I have an enormous, invisible cyber-waste basket sitting next to it. But you know, sometimes, it's good to put the frightening things on the table, look them in the eye and tell them that they will not prevail. One thing that I know for sure. Not everything can be explained, or understood. I used to tell a friend of mine, who was constantly denying all good things as being "not real," that she was just dragging herself down with her deep-seated belief that everything happens for the worst. She'd stop in to my office every morning, trudging up the steps, to plunk herself down at my table. Yes, I had an old wooden table in my office that was much more of a kitchen table than a piece of office furniture. Every day, she girded her loins (figuratively) in preparation for Hell to visit our neighborhood. 99% of the time, it didn't happen. When she'd get very depressed, I'd point out to her the countless times she'd come into my office, pronouncing one doom or another that never happened. Her attitude was that she was just "preparing for the worst." Just in case it happened. Truth is, there is no way of "preparing for the worst."
You're a lot better off preparing for the best. How can you prepare for the sudden loss of a child, or finding out that you have cancer?
I don't mean to minimize depression, because I had a depression and committed myself to a psychiatric ward. I know what it feels like to wake up every day, dreading that moment when you swing your legs over the side of your bed and put them on the floor. But you know, people sell you a faulty bill of goods. Too many people say that it's unrealistic to be hopeful. As if reality only came in one flavor. I notice that when "Shit Happens" became such a catchy bumper stick wisdom, no one said "Good stuff, far beyond anything you could even imagine, happens too." (You see I'd make lousy bumper stickers.) They'd only fit on Hummvies.

The truth is, Doctors don't know it all. The good ones are quick to acknowlege that. I could give endless examples of what were either miraculous cures (or phenomenal miss-diagnoses.) A recent one will do. I came to know a woman in a black gospel Chat room who was becoming increasingly distressed at her physical state: for good reason. She's a single Mom with a child to support, working in an office, entering date into a computer all day. She was getting stabbing pains in her wrist and arm to the point where she could only type short sentences in the chat room before the pain became too excruciating. I talked with her about my friend Joe, who had just undergone carpal tunnel syndrome surgery at the age of 81, and waws coming along well. But, she was trapped. If she had the surgery, she couldn't do her work and she'd lose her job. As the sole/soul provider she was afraid that she and her child would end up on the street. Despite being in increasingly severe pain, she managed to keep working, but she had no idea how much longer she could bear the pain. She wasn't able to sleep at night, and saw no way out. And then one morning, she woke up pain free. No explanation. Her Doctor could offer no explanation. The pain had been very real, but so was the healing.

If I started a thread talking about all the miraculous healings I've seen in the last few years, it would become one of the longest threads on the Cat. Being a realist, myself I know that not every
story has a happy ending. But many, many do. Believing in healing is the best medicine you can take.

Thanks for laying your "haunt" on the table, Metch. We'll all put our hands on it and tell it if it doesn't behave, it's going into that gigantic, invisible garbage can.

Jerry