The doctor,witch doctor, so which doctor

At this point in our lovley western civilisations, having gotten used to doctors, we have come to realise that medicins are often full of rubbish ingredients which are bad for our health. We have come to accept that doctors are not the only people that can heal us, alternative medicine of all sorts is getting more and more popular and is producing results. But why do we keep on going to the doctors when in fact we can heal our self? Or can we?

Not so long ago our housekeepers daughter caught the flu. The house keeper is near sixty years old and her daughter older than I, they had obviously been trough the routine of sickness a great many times in these more than 30 years, but the mother was nervous as can be and was on the phone half the day dictating to the daughter what she should do to get better. What fascinated me where her methods and recepies.

 The mother insisted on daughter going to get a blood test, each day of the flu.

Now the absurd thing is, taking out blood, is a very uncomfortable procedure. The I wish I was in bed, drowsey  sick person has to get them self to some clinic, and than wait in the queue, before some nurse painfully jabs them and takes out samples of blood.  The very taking out of the blood does absolutely nothing to heal a person. All it does is count blood leukocites , electorcites,  and confirm if a flue virus is present.

None the less obviously it was a system that worked for this family. It made them feel as if they are doing something to heal the flu.  I realised that this entire process for them was a healing method. Going to the doctor, getting jabed was enough for them to get better.

The second method, my house keeper applies when feeling a bit dysfunctional,  is the testing of the blood preassure. When she gets, nervous, hot headed, tired, restless, or any body part hurts,  she walks a staircase up above her own flat and goes into her neighbours apartmanet, than checks her blood preassure.
Its enough for her to go trough the process for her to imideatley release pent up stress and feel like she has done something which has made it all go away.
I have offered her to use the blood preassure apparatus we have at home, but she refuses- because if she where to check her preassure in my house, it would compromise her ritual, her repetitive recognisable process on the way to feel better.

Having noticed that these methods, of going somewhere, doing something, however truly pointless it may have seemed to me, on the outside, does in fact work for these women , I discovered that I am no better.

Since giving birth, I have a on going reaction to it, and I went to get checked up. The first doctor, diagnosed me, and perscribed a medicine not compatible with breastfeeding. Having gone for second opinion to a specialist, I discovered that the first doctor was wrong. However the reaction kept on being a problem. I had a blood test to check my iron supplies and so on, and the specialist prescribed a medicine. On the very day I got the packet of medicaments in my hands- my problem after two and half months stopped. Completly. This is before I opened the box. The box of pill is still untouched on the kitchen shelf.

What healed me in this instance was not the drugs- for I had not taken anything at all, by engaging in the process of going to the doctors, and having the will to fix me up, I convinced my self it was getting better and it did . Had I not gone im sure it would have continued, just as it had for this long- because I did not thing to end it.

Going to the doctors,  was the way my mother dealt with all my health queries when I was a child, so it seems to work as a method for me.  I am very visual , and need ti to be real,  I can not replace a real trip with a meditation version of it.
Despite the fact that I belive people can heal them self ,  trough self will, meditation, herbs, crystals,- which I collect, make tinctures  and teas, but I find that for some reason, it does not convince me on a deeper lever, enough for it to work.

What will heal a person, depends a great part on their  nurture. The shaman, the wise woman, the witch doctor- all where/are a methods of activating the patients imagination into believing that they will get better. The doctor has the same roll in a contemporary society. Pity its a painfull method with the jabs and crappy medicines, but still its better than being hit over the head with a chickhen and being buried in the earth as they do in some voodoo medicine.

As we are researching alternative methods which appeal to us more, so we shall perhaps trough time, be able to re programe our self to heal trough alternative methods, or pass on new methods to our children which we will be more satisfied with than with western medicine.  But for now, to me the alternative works ony to compliment my trips to the doctor, which magicaly makes me better always!

What is the price of a vote? (corruption, democracy, local Split elections)

How much does a vote cost?

How much power does a single water droplet own?

 

 

Dobriša Cesarić the Croatian poet illustrated the answer,  in his well known piece, The Water fall: (roughly translated by yours truly)

 

So flows, flows the water fall,

what significance has my little droplet to it all?

 

Look, a rainbow in the water is created

It sparkles and vibrates in thousands of coloures

For that colour dream to shine in the waterfall

My little droplet is essential to weave it together

Yesterday during the festival day celebrating Split's park forest Marjan , the Croatian conservative party HDZ and Andro Krstulović Opara  their candidate for the mayor of Split, where actually shopping for votes from citizens!

 

Some Conservative men, like shady dealers, where pulling out cash from their jackets,  and offering passers by 100 kuna bills in return for their promise to vote for Opara!

 

Hundred kuna(10 british pounds)! I got a hundred quid! Free hundred quid, maybe some did think , why not, Id vote for that money, not giving it more thought. But what will that vote , cost the individual who had sold it , in the future?

 

If  Opara gets elected, how will he spend the tax money, taken out of the earnings of that man who sold his vote, every month? What kind of man even attempts to buy your vote?

 

 What is the price of my vote? To have a right to vote, my ancestors had to fight so that I am born free, and not a slave or peasent to feudal lands. They fought so that I may be raised in a democracy and can choose a leader instead of having to accept a leader by his birth right. My parents generation raised in a one party communist land, went trough war, and made certain that no one will force  me to vote for just one, power, that  of the dictator. Women of this century have succeded in having their voice and vote validated, and for it to have effect on politics. 

 

 

One by one vote, creates a group, creates a movement, creates inertia, creates a majority.

 

You cannot buy my vote for a 100 kuna  Opara. My vote costs a lot more, it is worth many lives. It is worth my right to freedom. My vote and voice can be gained like most good things, only for free.

Koliko košta jedan glas?

Koliko košta jedan glas?

Koliko moći ima jedna mala kap?

To je Dobriša Cesarić ilustrirao kroz njegovu poznatu pjesmu Slap ovako:

 

Teče i teče, teče jedan slap;

Što u njem znači moja mala kap?

 

Gle, jedna duga u vodi se stvara,

I sja i dršće u hiljadu šara.

 

Taj san u slapu da bi mogo sjati,

I moja kaplja pomaže ga tkati.

 

Jučer na dan Marjana HDZ I gospodin Opera kupovali su glasove naroda.  Neki ljudi, poput švercera, vadili su stotke iz sakoa -I za 100 kuna nudili su građanima da glasaju za Anrdu Krstulović Oparu. !

 

Sto kuna! Dobija san sto kuna! Besplatnih sto kuna, možda je mislio netko, neš ti , glasat ču ja.. Možda netko i misli, ne ulazeći u to dublje. Međutim što će toga individualca koji prodaje svoj glas za sto kuna, koštati u budučnosti taj glas?

 

 Ukoliko pobjedi Opara, na što  će zatim porez što svaki mjesec se skida sa plače tog čovjeka koji je prodao glas, trošiti? Kakav može bit  čovjek koji ide kupiti tvoj glas?

 

Koliko košta taj moj glas? Da bih imala pravo na glas, moji predci su se borili da se rodim slobodna a ne rob, I ne  radnik u feudalnom sistemu. Moji predci su se izborili da ja odrastem  u demokraciji i mogu birati vođu, umjesto da moram prihvatit vođu po pravu njegova rođenja. Generacija mojih roditelja I  su se izborili da imam mogučnost birati za koga ču glasati ,  da postoji više nego li jedna partija, da me nitko neće ucjeniti, da biram samo jednu, moć diktatora. Žene ovog stoljeća su se izborile da imamo glas, da je taj glas uvažen, da utjeće na stanje naše stvarnosti.

 

Jedan po jedan glas, stvara grupu, stvara pokret, stvara inerciju, stvara većinu.

 

Ne nemožeš kupiti moj glas za 100 kuna  Opara, Moj glas košta mnogo više. Košta mnoge živote . Košta moje pravo na slobodu .

 Moj glas može se dobiti kao sve moćne stvari, samo besplatno.

 

The visit to the gynecologist

If you are feeling a wee bit squeamish, or prude, please do not read the rest of this article, for at the gynecologists we know what must be dealt with, and I take it upon my self to deal with this very unpleasant matter in writing, to get it off the chest- off all women.

Trips to the gynecologist can not by their very nature be pleasant, for they force us to act against our very nature. We are induced to put our pants down and show our most secret parts

A to a complete stranger

B to someone we are not attracted to,

The only other people permitted, to enter our sacred shrine or yoni as they call her in tantra, are people we are

A very intimate with,

or

B extremely attracted to,

so you see the gynecologist check up, is a very odd, and alien experience, acted out voluntarily by both parties, the patient and doctor, in the name of medicine and health, yet always just so awkward.

The distress of having to go to a gynecologist appointment, begins already at home, in the shower. You sit there, water pouring down your face, in a conundrum as to what kind of hair do, should you prepare for the gynecologist. Should you leave it all untouched, and natural, like mother earth, and lift up your head a proud feminist? Ought you bare the skin, so its easier for the unattractive stranger doctor – to easily dig in? Or should you create some sort of tidy lawn, a muff version of a suit, just enough covered up, just enough cleavage, ?

What ever you decide, you will feel like an idiot .You feel the idiot for even thinking about this pre exam detail, but you go though the process, repeatedly, before each appointment.

Once at the gynecologist, how should one  behave, knowing that person tapping on the computer will be poking at you with some phallic apparatus, in a few moments? My favourite coping mechanism is to enthusiastically ramble on about all sort of things which distract us from the soon inevitable.

Having climbed upon the table, and placed your legs into those holders which open you up in a way you do not feel artistically nude, but very very naked, where do you look, to avoid dealing with how exposed you really are.?

Looking into the eyes of the gynecologist, continuing some conversation, is impossible. I have tried it. At some point one of you will loose the nerve game, and the eyes will give away that this is an embarrassing situation, they will blush, look away.. So its best to be looking else where, but continuing to ramble on, using conversation to override the weirdness. Or stare at a picture.

Its also difficult to decide weather to allow yourself to produce the natural grimaces displaying your discomfort in such an instance, or keep grimaces at bay, as to not offend the doctor, trying to fake a look, like its all cool, I do this every day, botox kind of look...

Than the preference of the gynecologist sex arises. Who do you feel more comfortable with, another woman or a man looking at you? Yeah , theoretically we are not supposed to notice what sex they are, and percieve them just as a doctor, after all they all wear white uniforms and so loose their identity, a bit, but not enough, as we all do have preffrences.

 

I think I preffer female gynechologists as there is less stress about it all, and I have to do less talking to fake my cool.  After the female old male doctors all somehow blend into one another, so they pass as the next best thing.  It is the being checked over by a young, attractive doctor - that just feels,  wrong.

 

 

 

 A young attractive gynecologist happened to me recently at the hospital, and I can say it was the most embarrassing of all check ups, in my check up history. To be faced with someone who in a parallel non married universe one might walk into in a club or in the street and see fit for a date,  makes you feel triple naked, and the  lack of age gap, made the doctor blush bright red in agreement,  aware of what he is actually doing, despite the fact its his routine. 

What is worse than that, is bumping into the same gynecologist in the street. As you say hello,  clearly remembering who had fisted you in the name of medicine reecentey, they reply politley recaling you from somewhere vaguely, but by the time their brain reels back the hundreds of faces they had met and succeed in placing you , now outside their practice,  they became aware of  where their hands had been, an suddenly embaressed blush heavily.

 

 

The saying hello to your gynecologist in the street may be a bit of a faux pass, or just inappropriate and better avoided any day. But just to get them back a little bit for the huge quantum size embaressement, we have to accept on every visit to them, perhaps we can take advantage of being our own territory, under the blue skies instead of a clinical lamp, and on seeing them out of work, among mortal men, when we are fully dressed, we should always  smugly say hello, and stop long enough to give them time to connect your face- to the memories of your Yoni than walk away giggleing, at uncomfort of the gynaecologist.

 

 

Sunčica Kuzmanić (Perišin-Tomljanović)

http://suncionstage.blogspot.com/

http://themarinerandtheocean.blogspot.hr/

 

 

     

Pasja kola

Pasja govna su posvuda. Stvore se poput rose, svježa, svako jutro, po pločniku, I na travi, u dječjem parku i ulici.
 Otkuda tolika govna ? Upče me ne zanima.
Očito je da je ljudima lakše pričat s pasima negoli s jedni drugima ,jer su svi pokarani na pasja kola., zbog čega su počeli kupovat sve vrste pasa - koje liče na vlasnike, a I ponašaju se poput njih.
I to je ok ,da neki agresivni tikvan ima velikog buldoga s kojim se doma grize jer se drugima ne da, a dosadna fufica ima pekinezera na baterije da on nastavi kokodakat razgovor kada ona stane, ili onaj loši dečko, čelavi mišićavi tip koji ima paplilončica s kikicom na glavi..  Ne brinite nemam predrasude protiv pasa , imala sam i ja jednog koji je ličija na mene do nedavno. Čudi me samo ta golema količina pasjih barbonjaka svugdi.
U Spinutu čistači metu okolo govana, iako im to stvara dodatno posla, troši suviše vremena, jer dok pometu jedu ulicu kružeći oko svakog govna polako i pažljivo, prođe radni dan, bez da ikad stignu do rampe za dječje bicikle i kolica pune škovaca od prošle Ultra manifestacije.

Počelo je bit normalno da su ulice zasute govnima, do te razine da ljudi ih više ne primjećuju. Pa to je gore nego li je bilo u crnom srednjem vijeku. A  s dolaskom proljeća, kada je sunce povisilo termostat, to se sve lagano peče na mikro valovima, polako, I uporno, cjelodnevno i Spinut smrdi ka...jedno veliko pasje govno.

Dide mi je priča da kad je on bija mali, bila je jedna siromašna familija u kaštelima , koja bi poslala  dicu svako jutro pred doručak da kupe gnjoj. Kad bi skupili košaru tovarovih izmeta dobili bi za doručak bilu kavu, ako nisu skupili .ništa od kave.
Trebalo bi to I ovde upotrijebit. Svaki čovik u kvartu koji dođe na jutarnju kavu sa pasom, a to je svaki drugi, teba donit košaru dokaza da je očistija šta mu je pas predhodno skrivija, I tek kad skupi košaru punu može si kupit zasluženu kavu. U jednom mahu očistile bi se ulice, I vlasnici bi počeli čistit za svojim pasom.
Bez zajebancije, 10 dnevno- čišćenje pasjih govana bi trebala postat kazna za puštanje pasa da obavlja, bez da vlasnik skupi..
Ili nek frajeri stavljaju beštijama pelene. Moja dica ne kakaju po ulicama, zašo bi pasi, nek kupuju pamperisce. Pamperisce su skupe i dici, pasi ne zaslužuju bogovski tretman da seru gdje hoču jer su vlasnicima skupe pampersice, a ako jesu, uvik postoje druge marke pelena, -kao na primjer teta violeta.

Sad je dosta bilo o govnima.  Stvarno ja bi uvela kaznu za čišćenje kvarta. A danas svi imamo pametne telefone, ljudi mogu prijavljivat pase koje obavljaju- s dokazom, putem jedne prouke. Kao da bi to ugrozilo naše među-ljudske osdnose, - kao što rekoh, već su svi ionako posvađani na pasja kola. Bilo bi lipo da su nam barem ulice čiste ,da možemo lipo šetat ulicom , svak u svom svijetu, bez da zagazimo u ....

Očeš mi nač posal?

OČEŠ MI NAČ POSAL? plesnula me priko kafića,  žena kojoj neznam ime, ali znam ju iz viđenja is svog kvarta.

Oči su mi vjerojatno ispale iz glave ko onoj igrački kad ju stisneš pa oči prikipe.
Novo kupljena maskara uokviravala je smrznuti trenutak u kojem te moje oči, su stale van glave, dok iza njih, u lubanji mozak mi je brzinski vozija pedale. Mozak se pokušavao snaćI na toj litici gdje šok ga je mogao prebacit u

a ) smjeh, jer mislila sam da me zajebaje
b) lažna obećanja, jer nako instinktivno želiš pomoć riješit situaciju,
c) prebrzo  I kobno reagiranje ikakve vrste.

I tako oči na vazduhu, ko ovci kad vidi vuka, stala sam s čikarom u zraku, bezpokretna.


Ta žena , optimist, brz iskorištavač situacija, gledala me izbočena iz svoje ricaste kose, njene oči mimikirajući moje i čekala odgovor.

Srićom sin mi je razbio trenutak, brzim i ponavljajućim žicanjem, MAMA AJMO KUPIT KINDER JAJE kao s rijećima nekog rituala, prizvao me je k stvarnosti.

Da stavimo stvari u kontekst, žena preda mnom znala je da sam slikarica, njena kćer pohađala je moje radionice koje bi ova koristila kako bi joj mjesto uru vrimena radionice, ja dadiljala  dijete par sati u knjižnici. No iz nekog bezobrazluka voljela me je lagano gurkati srednjim prstom , jer svaki tjedan molila je da prominim dan tokom kojeg će bit radionica, uvijek pričajući s visoka, a s obzirom da ja sam spremna svakom entuzijastičnom djetetu izić u susret, minjala sam oko male dane, dok nisam razjebala ćitavu grupu i radionicu.

Upravo smo u  kafiću spominjali skorašnje izbore gradolnačelnika, na što sam argumentirala zašto se u mom mišljenu  treba glasat za Keruma, i priznala da ču ja biti na njegovoj listi.

Ćim je to čula, ricasta je trenutno frknula cigaretu, pikirala me pogledom ki s laserom snajpera,  i ispalila OČEŠ LI ME ZAPOSLIT?

Svi beskorisni realni savjeti o tom gdje bi zaista žena mogla nać posao, u super turističkom gradu, odložila sam, i kurioža, pitam. :
 A što ti znaš radit?
 Čim se baviš ? Ispravila sam se sam da budem pristojnija.
Što si studirala?

Osim što žena gura kolica, vuče pasa  I pije kavu, tj, stalno je izložena na kavi, o njoj ništa ne znam.

A JA TI MOGU RADIT SVE odgovorila je.
kad sam to čula , već sam znala koja je ura, i bilo mije itekako drago što Duje ubrzava s MAMA AJMO KUPIT KINDER JAJE na dvadeset ponavljanja u minuti.

MOGU  TI JA SVE - objektivno se prevede  u ne znam radit ništa, a subjektivno znači, osoba ne želi radit ama baš ništa.

Počela je ricasta nabrajati nasumice, mogu, Defektologiju, zamjene, kroatistiku, hrvatiku, hrvatski..

Da razjasnimo među nama stvar,  pitam ja, Ti si učiteljica?

DA ,  AL TO NE ŽELIM RADIT, ispucala je s gnjušenjem kroz dim cigarete. Tim rijećima srušila je jedini okvir koji bi ju mogao strpat u nešto korisno.

AL RADILA BI JA SVE  ponovi  ta.
Valjda fantazirajući ko velik broj splićana neko divno uhljeb radno mjesto u banovini, koje obvezno stjeću kroz poznanstvo a ne sposobnost, gdje bi dolazili pit kavu cijele dane dok sjede na oblaku duhana do penzije.
 Smatrala sam beskorisnim uopće pokušati objasniti kako ja nemam ama baš nikave moći  da joj ostvarim san, niti ona ima kredencijala koji bi me inspirirale da ja njoj, koja provodeći sve dane trošeći u kafiću vidljivo nije gladna, tražim posao.

Zatim odjednom baci drugu bombu, bez srama što je pre očita, odjednom izjavi
JA I TI, ZAJEDNO BI MOGLE..
OSTVARIT OVU MOJU IDEJU, ima jedan gradski prostor koji  želim....

Odgovorila sam joj iskreno i ujedno na politički korektnije što sam mogla,
 Lijepo napiši bokun emaila Kerumu ili ga nazovi, sa svojom idejom i prijedgogom  on voli da mu se građani direktno obrate.

Međutim toj sorti čovjeka kojoj paše ne radit ništa, nema pomoći, ma ni žicanje ih ne potakne da se pokrenu, žicanje je zapravo početak i kraj njihov volje za poslom. Pronašla sam ja takvima posao bezbroj puta, gdje kad im sve napraviš, gospodi nikad nije posao dovoljno dobar niti je ikad dovoljno para za platit njihova guzičanstva.

MAMAAAA AJMO KUUUPIIT KINDER JAJEEEE uhvatio me je za ruku Duje, i odvukao dalje, i spasio od te čudne situacije.