Sunday, May 19, 2013

Swan, Cameron, Electrocution As Child, Throwing Up

I noticed tonight that the man who invented the electric bulb in England, is from Scotland, and married a woman with the last name "Cameron".  His name was Joseph Swan.  Her full name was Isabella Cameron.  Swan invented the lightbulb in about 1860 and then Dr. Donald Ewan Cameron, also of Scotland, began working for the CIA and Canada in MKUltra experiments that electrocuted kids.  Maybe they are not of the same family, but the Camerons are both Scottish and both with an interest in science and electricity.

Joseph Wilson Swan and Isabella Cameron.

I might remember more about what happened to me as a baby and toddler.  I don't remember very much right now, but some things I remember and other things I later had a strong reaction or response to, which I wouldn't have had unless I'd been conditioned to act a certain way. 

For example, I remember that when I was taken to the hospital when I was 8, for a broken arm, I expected them to have my arms up over my head, suspended in the air.  I asked why they weren't doing this and they looked surprised at me and said they wouldn't do that.  I remember when they took the bandaging off, and my arm was shriveled up, yellow (possibly from iodine) and had bruising up and down.  It might not have been iodine either, because the other colors were green and blue (bruising). 

I also remember I threw up a lot as a kid, and then when it quit, I didn't throw up again for almost a decade or more.  I know my entire family sometimes threw up around the same time and we called it "flu" and then other times, one of us was throwing up repeatedly.  I got so tired of throwing up that one day I prayed to God to please not let me throw up as much anymore.  I was throwing up every month it seemed.  I started looking forward to throwing up just to not feel sick to my stomach anymore.  I was able to tell myself, as a kid, "Okay, remember, you need to throw up and then you'll feel better."

So I would go to our bathroom, stand in front of the pedestal sink and wait to throw up.

It wasn't "now and then".  It was all the time, and I can connect my earliest childhood memories to being very, very, sick, until I threw up.  And then I felt better.

There is no way I was getting "the flu" that much.  No one else around me had it.

I used to try to run to the sink in the bathroom as quickly as I could, but if I didn't make it, I threw up in the toilet instead (closer to the door).  Or I threw up next to my bed, in a pan always by me.  Or I threw up outside of the car sometimes or by the kitchen sink, but most of the time, it was in my house.  I don't remember ever throwing up at school. 

I knew the kinds of throw-up there was like the Japanese know different names for nieve, snow. 

When I threw up, maybe I'm wrong, but I remember it was maybe 1-4 days about once a month.  Sometimes a lot more, like almost every other day, and sometimes, several weeks with no throwing up.  I remember our bathroom sink for how much I threw up into it and the cup there for rinsing out my mouth.  I almost think one time we had a square sink and then it attached to the wall (but was up high) and then I remember a pedestal sink. 

I got so used to throwing up and how I felt before I did throw up, I could usually time it right, to get to the sink in time.  There were very few times my timing was wrong or it was instantaneous and with not even a few seconds warning first.

I started praying, please God, don't let me throw up anymore.  And sometime after I did pray this, the throwing up quit and I didn't even throw up from flu, for decades.  Maybe once or twice in a couple of decades, but that was it.  So to go from constant sickness to relief from vomiting made a big difference for me.

I don't see why I would have thrown up that much unless it was from being targeted by aerospace industry and tortured, which upset my stomach and caused this.  The only other thing was I have scars from being cut up, but I don't remember throwing up in connection from seeing cuts on my body.  Unless possibly, if I saw cuts on my Mom's legs, from shaving, it might have caused me to throw up if I had a nervous reaction after being tortured myself or seeing others tortured.  Most of the time, I remember throwing up in the Summer.

I was throwing up through all seasons, but it wasn't cold season when I threw up the most--it was usually Summer and Fall.

My earliest memories are of more disinterested vomiting, where I just ran to something to make sure I didn't make a mess.  Later, it was so routine, I started looking at it--at the consistency, texture, color, the whole diamond-scheme of "cut, color, clarity" and so on.

I remember when the rest of us all got sick together, but there may have been times others were sick and I didn't see it.  I know many times, I seemed to be throwing up a lot, but not my brother. 

I never "made" myself throw up though.  I have never like to self-injure or harm myself in any way.  I just know that I went from being sick and feeling out of control to telling myself, "It's okay if you throw up, because you will feel better after you do" when I started feeling sick.  So I talked to myself, and waited with a sense of control in knowing I didn't have to dread vomiting, because then I'd feel better.

Later however, I just prayed to not feel sick at all.

Supposedly, I was never "sick".

I mean, everyone lies for this government.

When I was in school, I didn't get sick again very much.  Maybe one cold a year, and no throwing up.  The exceptions were Summer and Fall on occasion.

I also remember one time when I was drawing a bath for myself in the middle of the day, through a whole summer, and I would sit or lie in the tub with the lights out, and I was pretty young.  I think it was just my daily bath but I remember I left the lights off, and that I could feel the breeze from the window above the tub, and I remember an entire summer of this but I don't remember other times of the year.  There was enough light to see, just dim, and maybe before 4 p.m.  I don't know if I had a fever or what.  I remember taking cold baths because I felt so hot, and some warm too, but tepid because of how hot I felt.  Around that time, I think, we were always getting fevers too.

I slept with a green plastic bowl by my bed, and sometimes a pan, in case I had to throw up and couldn't get out of bed in time.  Sometimes I woke in the middle of the night and had to throw up and other times it was early in the morning about the same time I woke up.

I remember falling asleep with my hands around the bars in the headboard above my head.  There were spokes in a sun shape, or half-wheel shape in the design on my headboard, and I remember subconsciously gripping these or holding onto them and then falling asleep.  Other times, I wrapped my arms around the sides of the bed and held onto the sides, where there was a metal edge.  I didn't sleep with a pillow because I wasn't used to one.

It was a spring mattress, and I used to get under my bed and look up at the design of the springs and the grate.  I could see the metal grate and a board and then there were springs if I took my twin mattress off.  The board had red stripes across it, on the underside.  Red marks made into the wood. They weren't exact stripes from one side to the other, and they weren't made with blood. They looked like bright red kool-aid stripes at random, in flush marks on the plywood.

There was a name written under the bed on the inside too, and it was "Mike".  It was either "Mike" or "Mike was here".  It was maybe just "Mike".  It was written very small, in print, not cursive..

I didn't know anyone named "Mike"--not from class or school.  There was a Mike, I believe, who sometimes went to my parent's college-age class for Young Life and if it's the one I'm thinking of, he and his woman friend flew airplanes at the airport in Moses Lake.  He was a pilot of some kind and she was someone I thought looked like "Nancy Drew" would look.

First I had my bed with the mattress and springs and the metal frame and then I said, "It's too soft" or maybe I didn't say anything because one day my Dad said he was going to put a board in so it harder or firmer.  So then I had the board, and it had the red flush mark(s) and "Mike" on it.  The red mark was closer to the foot of the frame than the head of the frame, where I slept on the other side.  So it was in the center to down by my feet.  I later moved it around, when I was older, but I remember where it was.

I remember it because I went under my bed a lot, to look around and think.  Sometimes I was cleaning and getting something out from under my bed and then I'd see something and slide under, on my back, looking up at the top to see what was there. 

I saw the name there for a long time.  I didn't say anything and just wondered about it, and then years later I asked out loud about it, or said something about what was there.

Maybe this is why I said, "Mike" out loud, spontaneously, when I was sleeping next to a wood floor at a house in Washington D.C.  I was on a couch, and had my hand trailing down to the ground and was almost asleep and said, "Mike" out loud and Chris Dabney, on a different couch, freaked out.

Who knows, maybe Mike Nichols knew about that plywood board and what was on it and he thought he'd roll the car I was in, and flip it, but from my understanding, in hindsight, it has more to do with my being tortured and assaulted and someone named "Mike" being involved.

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