Calling Dr. Frankenstein/Dr. Lang

An article about “zombie pigs” appeared in several of my newsletters last week.  I’m sure you’ve heard the story about pigs’ brains being regenerated after they’d died?  This article explains it really well https://www.sciencetimes.com/articles/20382/20190418/zombie-pigs-scientists-restores-brain-activity-in-pigs-four-hours-after-death  I got the heebie-jeebies when I first read the news.  Once you’re dead, you’re dead.  Unless ... and this really creeps me out.

Right now, Ted and I are rewatched the old gothic soap, Dark Shadows.  It aired from 1966-71.  I was one of the kids who ran home every day from school to make sure I got there in time to watch the show.  I’m still a fan.  I write Dark Shadows fan fiction and have been to a couple of the annual Fests.  Anyway, we’re currently on the “Frankenstein” story line.

Barnabas, who’s suffered the curse of vampirism for almost 200 years, is being helped by Dr. Eric Lang and Dr. Julia Hoffman.  Dr. Lang’s theory is that he can transfer Barnabas’ life force to the sewn-together body and free Barnabas from the curse.  Now, why, in this day and age, did Dr. Lang resort to grave robbing instead of just getting a fresh, whole body from a hospital or morgue?  No matter.  Dr. Lang was playing God (or Higher Power).

Dr. Frankenstein, in the Mary Shelley book and in the movies, also was playing God by using experimental means to bring life to a sewn together corpse.  Why didn’t they just use a whole body?  I guess it adds to the horror to imagine the new body is made up of various peoples’ limbs, torso, and “Abby Normal” brains.

One question I’ve asked myself again and again when watching this Dark Shadows storyline or the many Frankenstein movies is:  what about the soul?  I believe we have souls that are part of our life forces.  I think when our bodies die, our souls move on to another plane we can’t see.  Call it heaven or whatever makes sense to you. 

The scientists at Yale were able to regenerate cells in the brains of decapitated pigs (they were already decapitated before the scientists got them).  It’s cool but it’s also spooky.  Will they get to the point where they can bring the organs of people back to life after they died?  Are the people the same as they were before they died, considering that with death their life force and soul are gone.

This could be a great technology for people who have organs that are failing.  Maybe it could replace transplants.  Maybe something like this could help repair brain damage in a living person that had an accident or a stroke.  It’s fascinating but at the same time it’s creepy.

 

I Don't Cry Anymore

 I haven’t been able to cry in years, and I’m not sure why.

 

When I was growing up, I too had to stuff my feelings and pretend everything was all right even though it wasn’t.  I would lock myself in my room and let the tears flow.  I cried until there was nothing left inside and my eyes burned so badly, I’d close them and go to sleep.  When I began counseling and meetings, I came to accept that it was okay to share what I was feeling and to cry, although there were things, I still kept hidden.  I think it was an issue of trust.  There were things I couldn’t open up about to anyone, and some not even to my journal.

 

The last time I really had “good” cries was after my first husband passed away in 2001.  I would dissolve into tears over the mention of his name, a memory, a familiar smell, the sight of his clothing or a favorite place we liked to visit.  It felt good to get the grief out but I didn’t like the aftermath of crying: red, swollen eyes, stuffy nose, and hitching breaths.  I never liked that part of it.

 

So why did I stop crying?  It’s not that I don’t feel grief or pain.  I have been heartsick over every single story of child abuse, mass shootings, deaths of friends and relatives, and sad scenes in movies but the tears won’t come anymore.  Is it possible I cried them all away?

 

I have no trouble expressing anger.  That’s always been the easiest to release.  I can laugh.  I can feel happy and joyous.  I can feel deeply depressed and incredibly sad.  But I can’t cry.  There are still some feelings I keep hidden but I don’t think that’s why I don’t cry.  Before counseling and meetings, I kept everything hidden and I cried like a baby.

 

All of that is just to say I’m much better expressing myself, standing up for myself, and even toning down the anger.  But I can’t cry.

Unthinkable

"If a person can grow through unspeakable trauma and loss, perhaps a nation may, too.”  This is a quote from Unthinkable by Rep. Jamie Raskin of Maryland.  This is not a book about the former President nor is it about January 6, 2021 and its aftermath as it is about surviving trauma.  I don’t need to touch on either the former guy or the events of January 6^th.   We all know what happened and what is going on.

I’d never heard of Rep. Raskin and the very first time I became aware of who he was, I also learned he had just suffered the devastating loss of his only son on December 31, 2020.  It was an especially shocking loss because young Thomas Bloom Raskin, only 25, had killed himself.  In addition to the enormous shock of losing a child, there’s the inevitable questions:  why?  Why didn’t I see the signs?  Why didn’t I do this or that differently?

No parent ever expects to outlive their child, no matter the age.  I remember the sorrow etched on the faces of my first husband’s grandparents when his mother was killed in a hit-and-run crash.  I remember the same sorrow on my father-in-law’s face the first time I saw him after he learned my husband had passed away in the night.  I grieved for Rep. Raskin and, again, for my in-laws.  I grieved for me, going on after having a piece of my heart amputated.

The work that Rep. Raskin threw himself into in the days, weeks, months and year after the death of his son have helped him cope.  At first, grief is overwhelming.  At any memory or mention of a name, a smell, a familiar sight, the tears overwhelm the body and becomes a quivering mass of pain.  The tasks ahead of Rep. Raskin provided a lifeline to survival.  The issues at hand were within his experience and expertise: the Constitution of the United States.

By the end of the book, a year had passed.  Now he can remember his son without the crushing devastation and tears.  He can remember his son for the compassionate and aware young man he was.

It’s still possible for this country to heal too.  Difficult, but still possible.