My mom and dad noticed that I was acting unusual. I was drinking a lot of liquids, urinating through my clothes, and appeared very sluggish. They took me to a substitute doctor; he insisted I had a virus. After my mother suggested a blood test be taken, the clinic dismissed her suggestion and said I just had a simple sickness. As the days proceeded at home, I became more sluggish, weak, skinny, dehydrated, and wet. A dark sunken eyed, holocaust skinny, crying and dying two year old child laid in his mother's trembling confused arms.
Returned visits and concerned phone calls to the doctors and fire department further propagated to my parents that I was fine and just had a virus. Dr. Packorny said "just be sure to give him lots of juice." The medical community's powerful ignorant denial of my mother's and father's intuition and experiential knowledge catalyzed a virtual death sentence to their child. The emotional free falling spiral into chaos of love, sweet nectar, and trust in the medical establishment ensued.
It was getting too long of a wait to see my regular doctor. Mom and dad kept on doing what the doctor said, giving me juice, as I peed my pants repeatedly throughout 10 minutes intervals for hours. After watching me quickly decay towards a miserable death, my parents trust in themselves of their knowledge of what was happening took hold. They trusted themselves over what the professionals with status and power said. Even though they might call my parents fanatic and overprotective, and emotionally deny and intellectually abuse their hearts. They knew that in reality they were feeding me death and not life because of doctors orders. My parents played the role of a loving spirit that knew what love was and it was not what the doctors were saying. They took me into the hospital soon enough.
After five minutes in the E.R., blood test results came back. My blood sugar was 2,261 mg/dl. With this staggering news, I immediately got treatment. Hooked up to a dozen machines for multiple days. My brain was severely dehydrated and shrunken. I would most likely die, and if lucky I would have significant brain damage the rest of my life.
My dad TAD held his precious hand with mine for hours on end praying and sending healing energy into my body. This energy still is part of me today as experienced through a dream recently. Their love overcame their fear of me dying.
All of my family including relatives supported me throughout the hospital stay. Especially mom and dad. Thank you. I love you so much.
I healed and came back to life with the strength of everyone and myself there. The trauma experienced did not affect my brain like they thought it would, at least to my knowledge! Some of my first memories are of being in a hospital, feeling nurtured and comforted. Thank you everyone there.
This experience has been a fantastic reminder and inspiration for living life with as much authentic passion as I can muster; thanks to this experience.