A New York story:“It wasn’t yanked,” “It was gently handled.”

On April 9,recent at 11.30 pm ,I suffered a seizure.

When I get very stressed out, most frequently ,a seizure will occur.

After all, emotions act in concert with the body.
On that day I woke up with an extreme pain on my left leg and on my right arm .
Pain, has been my devout companion ,as much as I disdain such company.I took two tylenols and proceeded to go about my day.I pushed myself. I walked downtown to an appointment at 1pm. My way of dealing with hardship is just to go on.

It is that ancient Chinese way of dealing with existence.Like in Nature.One day the Sun is shining,on another day a thunderstorm.

I do love Life,despite the puzzles and forbidding challenges I was given to sort out.
I often remember how a friend of mine in Australia told me,that he perceived me to be like a bouncing doll .As much as you punched it, it would bounce back. And this was when I was twenty years old.In fact, that impression seemed to be trailing after me forever. In Brazil, I was called a moca forte.
In an interview conducted by the writer Carlos Heitor Cony, who signed the story under a pseudonym he notes: “ O desenho e seu passaporte : ele a esconde e a protege.Nao precisa de analistas,pois aprendeu a se analisar a cada minuto, antes,durante e depois de cada acao.Ela compreende as coisas e por issso nao e sujeita a fossas existenciais ou sentimentais. Cinica e romantica- ela propria assim se define- da a sensacao de uma moca forte, sem espaco para lagrimas misturadas.uando ela chora- se e que chora realmente- tem sempre um motivo claro ou oculto para issso, nunca uma porcao de motivos como acontece com os outros.Seus desenhos espantam, chocam,divertem e mostram uma realidade que nos desaprendemos a ver.
Uma realidade deformada, portanto.Mas cruel, amarga,e, paradoxalmente,alegre,quase debochada.Uma realidade verdadeira demais para nao provocar o riso e um pouco de pena de nos mesmos.

So getting back to my story,on Wednesday.After my appointment,I went to see an old friend of mine,Toni.
I always enjoy talking to him, as he is 85,born in Poland and somehow belongs to my background,as my family was from Poland As we parted,I was limping and managed to walk slowly to a subway station in Tribeca,but mistaking the train and having to walk and walk and change trains,but finally got home and took another set of Tylenols and went to bed.

I woke up around 11pm, suffered a seizure and fell down the stairs.

My son Jacob and his visiting friend Simon,heard my stumbling and Jacob finding me unconscious on the floor panicked and called an ambulance.

By the time they arrived I was up on my feet.

I saw two huge persons,one a man and the other ,a woman looking at me fiercely and the man ,ordering me to sit down,for him to take my blood pressure,which apparently was high.

I immediately told him that I will get better and wanted to go back to my bed. The woman, though her eyes sending out daggers at me, was yelling:” You had a seizure! You had a seizure! You had a seizure! You are going to the hospital.”

I refused.I did not feel that I needed to go.I was conscious and alert.

I told them,it is late in the night,I do not want to go anywhere ,if not back to my bed.Thank you for the attention. I will be fine. At that moment ,police officers kept appearing ,like in a nightmare. A flood of vultures,looking at me as I was a rabid animal,or a criminal that they caught and with glee and force jumped on me,also screaming at me: You are going to the hospital! You are going to the hospital! You have 10 seconds to comply!”

There were more than a dozen police officers.It seemed like a they came for a ball.

I witnessed them laughing.

??????

I was not allowed to get up,and asked my son Jacob to get me my phone,which was ripped with violence from my hand by a police officer,as others pushed my son onto the middle of the loft,circling him and from their posture,I could see ,intimidating him.

And then,one of the police officers, jumps on me again ,twists me with brutal force and handcuffs me,while another one,according to my son and his friend Simon,had a Taser gun ready to go.

I screamed in horror and they pulled me up with force, hurting me and throwing me on a chair outside the door tying me to it ,in my bed clothes and slippers.

I was bounced against the corridor’s walls left and right,banging my head .I was hurt and my left elbow was hit against the wall,as well as I was kicked on my left leg.

Downstairs,in the wet night I was thrown into an ambulance and tied up there while the handcuffs were

pressing through my bony wrists.

I was horrified.

It was like a horror movie playing in real life.

I spent three hours at the hospital waiting for an attending physician,who after talking to me and noticing the bruises all over,called a social worker to take pictures of my bleeding ear,and register the case.

The social worker,was a very kind man,who looked at me with tenderness ,and said” I am so sorry that you experienced such an atrocious treatment..

The feeling I get from you, is of being a nice and warm lady. Why?

I returned home at 4.am.

My son had called for help and instead we were brutally attacked and nearly murdered by the NYPD,the finest.

And all I have wished and still wish all my life was to have Love and Harmony.

http://atireugram.blogspot.com/2007/07/seizures.html