I have always had an overdeveloped conscience. My parents used to whip my sister and she would laugh at them. They only had to show me the belt, spoon, or rubber hose and I would already be cringing. Ok, maybe this example shows that I have an overdeveloped imagination not conscience.
After reading Sideon’s channel in my head, I was relieved. I am not the only one that has obsessive thoughts that roll around in that brain cavity of mine. Since I have been on prednisone and chemo, it has been much harder to ignore it.
For instance, we were staying at my brother’s house while I was taking some really bad treatments for my disease (cytoxan-cychlophosphamide). My brother had a baby monitor to monitor his two-year old. Believe me, that kid needed to be monitored. He was a boy … a real boy who loved to pull things apart and climb on things. Our room was next to this boy’s room.
When I was feeling better (at the beginning of treatment), the baby monitor wouldn’t bother me. It had a very small range. But, when I was at the point where I needed more medication, I would begin to hallucinate about that baby monitor. I would think that my brother and his wife were listening on our conversations. I would wake my husband at 3 a.m. to tell him that we needed to run away. I would have such dark thoughts that would go round and round in my head.
Well, the ER doctor thought I needed to see a psychiatrist. It spooked him. But, my doctor knew what was going on… I was having a reaction to the prednisone. So he dropped it. Soon I was back to normal, my channels all on go. I could control myself.
However, just a little secret … the only difference between now and then is that I know that these thoughts are daydreams and fantasies. When I was on the medication (and believe me I am still on the medication for my disease only on lower dosages), I couldn’t tell the difference between fantasy and reality.
So what is in my channels lately? Well, there is this beautiful male nibbling my ear lobe, and other parts that I don’t want to describe. There is a beat-up red car that takes me to a mechanistic world run by human souls, and an urge to make money. One small part of me is urging me to win a lottery or become a millionaire in a hollywood sinister way. I can feel a camera over my shoulder, recording every moment of my life: my travails, my travels, my joys.
I was going to say something profound about how all writers have this ability. Maybe that’s why so many of us are alcoholics or drug addicts… or ill in new and unusual ways. Maybe…