Numb Health Care System In America

I might as well try and type with these numb hands because, let's face it, my hopes of getting them fixed has turned to an all time low. They ask if I am depressed. Ofcourse I am depressed. My hands started going numb in Oct. and it is now almost June and tomorrow I am finally having some kind of test. When I look around I see people all over the place in worse shape than I am. And the baby boomer elderly have not even arrived yet. In these past months I have lost my house, had to move to California where my daughter has been helping me. I sadly, left my live-in love and my dogs behind. Getting a new doctor and help without a job or money has been a long slow, painful process, which I feel has probably done permanent damage to my hands, which could have probably been reversed if I had been able to get some help, therpy, medicine...something quickly. It would probably have cost much less money than what I am now looking at...the loss of my hands.This loss would be great for anyone, but for me, a sculptress, where I ceate with my hands, it seems a much bigger loss. No, I have not really made a living with my art, but I haven't stopped. I have continued to do one more picture and one more sculpture. America doesn't seem to love it's artist anymore than it's elderly or sick. Maybe this slow down, this drag on my health and my spirits will go on. Maybe it can't be fixed. Maybe these numb gloves I wear on my hands will not go away.Tomorrow I am hopeful that something will be found to reverse this problem and my balance, also, so that I can stop walking around like a drunk. Maybe it is life and getting old... our bodies decaying... not holding up. God knows I have done my share of shit work in America. Somewhere I got tired of holding up, even though the process doesn't stop. There is really no stopping on this conveyer belt of life pulling us ever forward toward death.The numb not-care health system will probably go on, as more people age, the population explodes, more pollution happens in our rivers, seas and food systems. The doctor make money when we are sick, not when we are well. Tomorrow...another looking into the tangled octopus we call a Health Care System.
draft

Vooman's Voice

Vooman is not sure, now, if she wants to blog, after announcing her spot in the big bad, galloping blog world. Curling up with a good book that someone else has written might be easier than trying to extract my ideas from the sea of ideas floating just off my fingertips. Holybeejesus, never in th history of the world has the human mind been ask to take in so much. It is endless.

Vooman has been searching for truths for fifty years through thousands of book, after having a breakdown at twenty and I still don't understand truth and am even supicious of the word. I guess I have decided that truth is really around the corner. Truth is coming at us and if we lower our heads too long, we might miss it...or truth will fly on by, right over our heads...and it's possible truth has no wings.

Life is really some kind of a joke on all of us, only to be laughed at. Can anyone really make sense of all the nonesense undertaken by every class of people in the world, any government claiming to have the right way, or any religion expounding that they have the only truth? We need to be ready to poke holes in every philosophy, government or religion that wants to package us in their kind of wrapper, probably for their own use or profit.

It not that I didn't want to find truth. It's not that I didn't search relentlessly. It was just not to be found. I dreamed I had been hired as court jester for God, which gave me thought as I tried from time to time to come up with mirth for "God." Of course my "God" or "Goddess" (in quotes) does believe in laughter, unlike he Jewish God, Jehovan, who declared laughter a sin. I hope to make you, too, laugh from time to time. This is why I call myself Vooman... part voodoo, psychic, healer, woman, jester and mistake making fool.

What a Fool I have been to actually take serious those who told me supposed truths set in stone, even about myself. And I find that even stone is not solid. I know now...after working through my many fears that even death, where we are all headed, is but a flowing river to somewhere else. Please...as I dance along life's trails aned trials bare with me in song, poetry and laughter
Vooman