Before Sylvie Dies (with Two Recipes for Activists!)
Dedicated to all with heart and soul, if not body, in a healthy place, those who know that peace, justice and environmental sanity cannot be separated from one another.
by Richard Martin Oxman (The Ox)

“We were all rejoicing over the fact that Sylvie got good news from the specialist respecting ovarian cancer ultra sound results, when Syl told me — a few days later, in passing — that she was bothered by the fact the doc took only five minutes to do the procedure involved (not the usual twenty), and that he had lamented the lack of (necessary) water in her body for the tests… but went ahead and gave a diagnosis as if he could legitimately do so. The bottom-line was that, once again, a medical professional was moving too fast, basing “results” on highly questionable grounds. That ongoing deplorable status quo weighs on Sylvie and us all. And any health care reform that comes down the pike MUST include an effort to transform the education and ethics of the medical profession.” – The author, speaking to an imaginary audience in a recent dream.

“The character of the pains varied very much; most frequently they were of a hammering, throbbing or pushing nature…[in other cases] pressing and dull… boring with sense of bursting… pricking… rending… stretching…piercing… and radiating… in a few cases it felt as if a wedge was pressed into the head, or like an ulcer, or, as if the brain was torn, or pressed outwards.” — J.C. Peters, A Treatsie on Headache, William Radde, New York, 1853.

In 1992’s Migraine, Dr. Oliver Sacks (of Awakenings and The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat fame) delineated the range of migraine experience throughout history, including, of course, documented examples of what’s considered the worst migraine pain in history.

Nothing on record surpasses Sylvie’s pain of the last forty-eight hours. [During which time we couldn't turn on a light in another room without fear of exacerbating her condition.]

Holding her, rubbing her, applying fingers to pressure points, guiding her to the bathroom for futile vomiting attempts, praying at the foot of our bed (at every lie down spot in the house, actually)… nothing helped. And the unremitting sense of helplessness had to have contributed something awful to the incessant abomination. And I felt that. And that made everything even worse.

I write this down to get to the point where Sylvie screamed repeatedly — and absolutely convincingly — about not being able “to take it anymore.” As in wishing she were dead. [Pause.] When she started to fire out all the pressures in her life like pent-up projectiles meant to obliterate the very sources of her agony, she went through them rapidly with a fury that felt like she was being tortured by the most sadistic specialists of Guantanamo. This is no hyperbole.

It was no surprise to hear her shout about this one and that one, no shock to hear her spit out a number of personal slings/nooks and arrows/crannies which I know weigh heavily on her. Stuff that a lot of us share in common. But in the midst of all the (seemingly) bootless cries to Heaven she threw in a couple of goodies which are your business. I’ll mention one, directly below. In boldface CAPS.

PREDATORS.

So… in the midst of temporal, supra-orbital, frontal, retrobulbar, parietal, postauricular, and occipital pain, and unbearable sensations in her malar region, as well as pain in the upper and lower teeth, at the base of her nose, in the median wall of the orbit, in the neck and in the region of the common cartoid arteries, and down as far as the tip of the shoulder, she cites predator drones in the same breath that she mentions people in her personal life who aggravate her, cancer-related concerns and bills that have to be paid.

We may not be able to get rid of those extremely annoying people in her life. We may not succeed in preventing her or anyone in our family from succumbing to cancer. And certain debts might remain an ongoing problem. BUT… we can — collectively — do something about those predators. About war.

Like me, she goes to bed with the horrific images painted by the likes of ZNet and Counterpunch ad infintum. She wakes with the cries of distant others. Some, people who have to put up with migraines midst our bombing. She never never never completely lets go of our ongoing holocausts across the globe. Or… why vets beat spouses here, and commit suicide in record numbers everywhere. In the sense that Noam Chomsky must live with it all ’round the clock. And Arundhati Roy. And a number of my other heroes and heroines. [Pause.] It’s just that she doesn’t go around giving speeches or writing articles, etc.

But she does support all the 24×8 work that I’ve been doing on behalf of TOSCA. Which we cannot — by most standards — afford to drain from immediate family concerns. Because she cannot stop caring. Because she knows that life can be different. That we can make a difference whether or not TOSCA (my tentative basis for the “recipe” given below) ever gets off the ground. Whether or not Howard Zinn, Michael Parenti, Bill Blum, Marie Trigona, Devinder Sharma, Afshin Rattansi et al. stick with TOSCA for the long haul. For taking over the State of California is clearly not the issue here. Making sure that no one on earth has to deal simultaneously with severe migraines and military predator drones IS. Among other things.

So before Sylvie dies. In my arms. Or on the floor or street all alone. In front of our Marcello, or far far away without even the possibility of saying goodbye…. [Pause.] Before Sylvie dies from her menstrual-based malignity or any cause whatsoever… I ask you to join hands with us in solidarity on a basis that’ll suit your purposes.

One reason I know that we can end war on this planet during our lifetime was reaffirmed the other night… when Sylvie rose to make Pecan Snowballs with Marcello, overcoming the intense pain, the impossible obstacle that was her debilitation. Our little guy — not really privy to his mom’s agony behind closed doors — had been feeling horrible that she wasn’t going to be able to go through the Xmas recipe they had found last week. He had been looking so forward to making the snowballs with her… and not really knowing that he might lose her overnight… had been dwelling on the most important thing in his life at the moment.

Sylvie — on some unimaginable level — knew all this, and (obviously) had resolved to make his dream come true. She would turn herself inside out and invent the perfect moment for her child. That she did.

Just so, we can realize our dreams of PEACE AND JUSTICE, a world without (unnecessary) predators.

[Long pause.]

I am in the process of trying to reach EVERYONE. Including Rage Against the Machine (with their concern about homelessness) and the folks at Playing for Change with their emphasis on attitude. Mike Davis, Angela Davis, Steve Earle (who — damn! — should know we could end the death penalty in CA overnight!!!), anti-nuclear groups (who should know we could blacklist Bechtel!!), puppy lovers, dam haters, every labor group in the country, anarchists with black hoods, educators ‘cross the board, my neighbors, Davis Davis, Duran Duran et al. EVERYONE. Certainly everyone in California who could be directly involved in answering (satisfactorily) the question at the end of “Terminator 2009″ (http://www.zmag.org/znet/viewArticle/23420). For the very related matters of peace, justice and environmental sanity. That’s my recipe for our ACTIVIST HUNGER.

You can overcome your obstacles… and join hands with me in solidarity.

Those who refuse to fall back on excuses will be rewarded with the actual recipe that got Sylvie out of bed. I would very much like to give it to you before she dies. Before my Sylvie dies.

Blessings in solidarity for the holidays and beyond,
The Ox

Richard Martin Oxman
1713 Jennifer Drive
in the Vienna Woods of Aptos, CA 95003
831-688-8038 at any hour
http://oxtogrind.org/archive/378 = some of my background
www.sosylvie.typepad.com = some of Sylvie’s work
www.marcelsgeo.blogspot.com = some of Marcello’s beauty
http://www.flickr.com/photos/sosylvie/4065504466/ = some family fun
www.parisgraves.com, www.frenchpaintbox.com, www.cancerfreeitaly.com, www.nativeitaly.org = old family businesses (Who can, in good conscience, fly back and forth so these days?)
TO PUT PREDATOR DRONES IN CALM PERSPECTIVE: http://www.counterpunch.org/cohn12212009.html. Marjorie is much too mild for my taste, BUT… she is an attorney… and she is spot-on here with her take on our doing away with international law. We are not a nation of laws.