Threads

like in a handwoven tablecloth from afar, and the themes in a tale.

a thread that has been lost here is that in a state of utter physical confusion deep into being off the meds that nobody would provide, in a deep state of terror, i turned–among all the people who were involved, to Mrs. Nora Massad (sp?) of Beirut, the wife of a person in the government who I met through Alex’s work. I felt I shouldn’t share her name but now I am thinking it needs to be known in this mess I’m in.

she helped me that night (in my head, of course), and I will always be grateful for the example of decency and kindness that she and the rest of the group showed me those three days in New York in 1996 and again at the beginning of this bizarre escapade that started when I had surgery to take a mole off my face at the same time as someone deemed fit to stop providing me with the psych med, Clozaril.