Postcard from the Cure Machine (1)

 

Postcards From the cure machine. 1

 A while back, in shamanic circles a story went around about a legendary female healer.from Taiwan. Men from all over the world would go to her.for a session of her miraculous powers.

Her fame and notoriety came for the capacity to cure ailments in the sacral chackra/ genital area of many a brother.

Apparently, the patient would walk into her two room hut, disrobe, and lay nude on a flat wooden table.

 The old old woman would come out of the.other room through a beaded curtain waving holy smoke with one hand as she recited phrases from an unknown tongue.

She would stop at the edge of the table, scan you with her other senses, and suddenly grab a man's sack vigorously with her very strong hand and twist, turn, back and forth a man's package till he grimaced with an expression speaking of terror and exhilaration at the same time.

Her "cure" rate is reputed to be a hundred per cent since there were never any repeat customers.

2.

As I laid slightly flat on the medical table with my legs up and feet in stirrups waiting for the doctor to come in and inject micro gold seeds into my prostate, a necessary procedure to help the radiation beam have a compass, his Taiwanese assistant came in ( I had spoken to her before this moment when she took my vitals), asked if I was comfortable, I said "yes, enough," and surely, suddenly, she wrapped my sack in some sort of cloth and moved my apparatus back and forth twisted it till she had it in away that would make access to the steps that follow easy for the doc to accomplish. 

It was one of those Ayahuasca moments where the orders of the realms were reshuffled and time and space disengaged from their typical linearity and context. I did not know if the story about the old Taiwanese healer told to me way back was actually a prophecy for me,... was I in a strange entanglement of time lines, or I had just discovered on a new form of kink?

 

3. After playing my ocarina for the staff in the radiation therapy room (they were mesmerized, by the way) I pull down my knickers and proceed to lie on the table where the Giant Robot with its multiple parts and its cyclopic eye will dose me.

And you know, I gave this Monster robot my blessing and cleared the room with my ocarina and all of that before laying on the table. The technology is amazing. You lie down on this platform and the appendages of the Monster scan your body so the Cyclop eye through a variety of algorithms focuses on the targeted areas and through a thin green beam emits a high pitch sound that signals one is being dosed.

So there I am, this time doing a kind of Tantric visualization suggested to me by my friend Rick, visualizing Hecate, Kali, wrathful deities, in the form of a radiation beam, slowly destroying the aberrant mad cells when the radiation stops and I hear from the female pilot of the Monster behind the shielded glass : " Mr. Roman, please give me a sec. I need to reboot the computer."

Uh huh!...Apparently, the Monster was busy this day and when the coolant water hits a certain threshold the system shuts down as part of multiple fail safes.

4. After this day's treatment with my knickers pulled up I head out to the waiting area where either Shana or my friend Ruth are waiting for me. 

There is an old gentleman (early 70's maybe) on a wheel chair with a blanket on his legs presumably up next for treatment and I ask him about his amazing painted fingernails.

Each is painted in a different color. Brown, Yellow, Red, Black... He tells me he lives in an assisted living home and the staff likes to paint his nails differently each week.

I am thinking about painting one of my fingernails in his honor and of those yet to arrive at Curing Huts.

From the edges of the Cancer Fields at Emory Hospital in Atlanta,