Tears in my Ears

I had acupuncture yesterday afternoon, something I do to try to bring sensation back to and relieve pain in my feet and legs. Chemo-induced neuropathy.

Acupuncture involves about 30-40 minutes of laying on my back with needles stuck in me in various places. Usually, I take a head set and listen to a book on tape. I didn't do that yesterday. I decided I wanted to meditate on Lily's situation, and see whether I could find any better answers than I have found so far.

When I meditate, I usually visit with cats. Usually the souls of past cats of mine, but sometimes friends' past cats, and sometime living cats.

So I started into meditation, and opened the portal to where I usually visit cats. My heart and mind were full of my sorrow over Lily's situation. Ruby came to me.

Ruby is one of my former cats. She was a rescued street cat who loved being inside with people and didn't suffer my other cats gladly. Ruby passed in the fall of 1993, and it was Lily who took Ruby's opening in the household. Ruby never met Lily, although Ruby met and well tolerated the kitten littermates Maxwell and Ennis for a few months from June 1993 to her death.

Ruby was a difficult cat. Lily is a difficult cat. I took it as a good sign that Ruby came to me. Ruby had an oral tumor when she was young, but it was removed very early and although it was pathologized as a cancer (I don't know the kind), she never had a recurrence or metastatic disease. And no treatment other than the excision of the tumor.

Ruby agreed to what I asked for. That she watch and guide Lily. That she explain to Lily what is happening to her. That she help Lily let me know when she has discomfort or pain. Lily came to us for a bit, and understood that Ruby would be her spirit guide.

I wanted to ask Ruby to take Lily's cancer away, but I feel that is not one of her powers. Ruby knew that I wanted to ask her to remove the disease, and did not offer to help in that way, although I got the feeling she was going to look into it.

We finished our conversation and I focused on my upper right canine tooth, as if I were inside Lily's mouth, trying to draw the cancer from the bone there. Trying to take it away.

During this meditation, I had a few tears roll down the sides of my face and into my ears. I couldn't wipe the tears because I had needles in my fingers and in my ears. I tried to keep my eyes shut, because it was when I opened and closed my eyes that a tear would break loose and begin its slow, deliberate track down my face and across the ridges of my ears.

Next time I'll take a sleep mask to catch the tears.