TNR Happenings, December 18, 2023

It’s not too often I get to go behind enemy lines into the heavily guarded medical world of the ordinary. The intent of this is not to air personal dirty laundry, an assault on medical solutions, etc. It’s instructional to all readers because you all have a good chance at participating in this in the very near future. In your offices every day you are creating a foundation of greatness not seen in the world of the ordinary. You can learn to make emotional connections, communicate, and not listen to others about what can’t be done. As you know, my mother is 90 and her decline is becoming painfully apparent. Physical impairment is obvious, but her mental and emotional state is in sad decline. She resides in an assisted living complex and things are getting more and more complicated. She is confined to a wheelchair and her sharp wit and acuity are in rapid decline.  

I got an emergency SOS call on Friday night. (Why on Friday nights? I don’t know, but three faces are smiling. They have referred Miracle Training cases to me on Friday nights.) It was 10:00 pm and I was in the early stages of recovery/decompression, aka sleep. It was my daughter, Christy, calling me to say my mother needed to get a hold of me. This is most unusual and it must be an emergency. I called her and she was agitated, terrified, and taking a very long time to articulate her thoughts. She described how she had been injured by caretakers and was afraid for her life. I took the time to calm her down and agreed to come right to her place. Obstacle number one: denied entry since it was after hours. Rules and hours of visitation loom heavy behind cameras and locked doors. Some persuasive dialogue ensues and I’m allowed access to her room. She is clearly afraid and shows me her fresh battle wounds on her arms and wrists. She told me her elaborate story about the lies by the staff and the cover-up. Every piece of my Renaissance training went into action like instinct. Talking her off the cliff was futile, as I had to go with it. Don’t do it goes nowhere fast, just like in TNR, ha ha! She was sticking to her story, just like we do. If I lacked communication skills, I was going to be exposed as not having what it takes. I left her at midnight and agreed to return in the morning.

The next morning, I found her on the floor with a pillow and blanket. She was terrorized and didn’t sleep in her bed. My sister (the online nurse) was perplexed along with my brother and a staff nurse. I was told that there had been no abuse. She was throwing an infantile tantrum, holding three adults hostage (like a growling dog) as they had surpassed their ability level to solve the problem. They were going to have to risk getting her off the floor with an orderly. It’s the hard way (force vs power) to do things, and 90-year-old bones break like twigs. They each tried to get her off the floor and calm her down, to no avail. They know nothing about communication. They spoke to her as if she were a dog, a baby, or mentally challenged. It’s so patronizing, even to a mentally challenged person. One by one, my mother told them forcefully to leave and let her alone. Finally, after much futility, I asked my sister what she wanted to be done. ‘Well, isn’t it obvious we want to get her into her wheelchair?’ They all were talking to her from sitting or standing positions, which created more agitation and confrontation. I got down on the ground and lay right next to her. I was talking, joking, and getting into rapport with her instead of demanding. No baby talk, just rational talk, firm and loving communication from my heart to hers. A few minutes passed, and she agreed it would be better in her chair. I deadlift her into the chair as she can’t use her legs. Step number one is completed. If only I could have read the minds of the other trained adults in the room! It was as if a whisper-like presence was at work which got the job done when the world of appearance methods failed miserably.  

The next obstacle was they wanted to diagnose and test her for medical conditions that could be exacerbating her condition. They wanted to get an ambulance or firefighters to transport her to a medical facility. They couldn’t see the solution was to transport my mom in my car. Why wouldn’t they just put her in a car? The paperwork, the delay, and the economics are overwhelming and yet it’s taken for granted when you are in the grips of an important medical event. Like disease insurance, you expect others to pay or solve your problems. They asked, “You think you can get her into your car alone?” Well of course, what’s the problem? Just one of the benefits of being in TNR is the decided focus on being an alpha in the world of betas. They were exposed as not having the chops, but it doesn’t bother them because someone else will clean up the mess. I place her into my car slowly and carefully so as to not break her delicate bones as she groans and moans in pain. I had to go through this, not in an uncaring way, but it was part of the process if I was going to complete the task. When most people hear resistance of any kind from 90-year-olds, babies, kids, hoodlums, or mates, it stops them cold. They become paralyzed and take the easy way out as their tails are lowered. Enduring what can’t be accomplished is a way of life for the many.

Next was going to a cash-in-the-box urgent care. What an operation! A cash cow to be sure! It had windows like at a casino where 90% of the focus is on payment, insurance coverage, and covid status. 50% of the people there had masks as the sickest people on the planet convened and held court. I had to go to a kiosk and register and then her name would be called. A loudspeaker booms the patient’s name and directs them to the proper window. They take their cash/card before the doctor can see them. They give the patient a piece of paper with an estimation of the charges, potential diagnosis, etc. While waiting, I observed the whole process. The family representative would take the paper back to where the others were seated and they would brag about how sick the relative was and complain about the charges. “Oh, my neighbor had the same illness.” “The mailman had the same illness. He was never the same!” It seemed like a culturally sanctioned event of a game show entitled Who’s the Sickest. Prizes are awarded for the highest degree of sickness. The logic of the illogical circus-like atmosphere is never questioned. They couldn’t get a urine culture from my mom, and I said that it was at the assisted living facility. Everyone looked at me as if I had F-bombed in church. They said they were going to treat her as if it was positive for a UTI. They could have asked me as my pants, shirt, coat, and front passenger seat in my car would have provided a sample. They didn’t have an on-site pharmacy (their treatment is drugs, why wouldn’t they have it on site?) so they were going to have to send for drugs. They were going to deliver the drugs to the assisted living facility sometime later in the day. So much focus was on payment, waiting, and drama and the treatment was not forthcoming. They have a captive audience because there are no other options out there.

DCME/Level 2 provides solutions when the world of ordinary affairs has none. It’s not necessarily geared toward 90-year-old patients, but it still includes them. Overriding limiting beliefs like schools (cramming in 30 kids per classroom), public health officials (covid is real and life-threatening), public health officials (smoking is good for you), military (war is good for patriotism and economics), politicians (this is for your own good), takes a specific type of person to navigate in the world of appearance. It takes a bold, adventurous, ruthless intolerance and a deep (not superficial) rescue dog mentality to those unbelieving masses who worship disease and don’t care about health or its development. This is like so many doctors, healers, and people in general who have a pronounced sense of emptiness and anxiety over not having purpose and passion in their lives. To do the necessary inner work on ourselves to be better conduits of healing is to live a life of essence, truth, love, and health. Yes, it’s worth the effort, and the results are out of this world. If health isn’t worth your best effort, what would it be?

DCME Confidential