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Showing posts with label Republican National Convention. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Republican National Convention. Show all posts

Monday, August 1, 2016

Sympathy for the Devil, er, Republicans


Miracle Girl: Sympathy for the Devil, er, Republicans

I’d like to gloat, but I’m not only feeling sad for the formerly Grand Old Party. In the process, of razing the Republican Party, Donald Trump is degrading the country and our political process as a whole.
But judging from most of my comments, few Democrats are joining me in this sympathy.
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Thursday, July 28, 2016

Erasing the Cartoon While Facing Another


Miracle Girl: Erasing the Cartoon While Facing Another

I surprise even myself at the depth of my anger and disgust at Donald Trump. Erasing the Cartoon While Facing Another flowed trippingly from my fingertips. The ones Trump might have made fun of when I had limited mobility as I recovered from my coma and strokes.

I wish I could say God help us if for some reason the American people lose their minds and decide to hand over the nuclear launch codes to the most dangerous presidential candidate ever.

EVER.
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Monday, July 25, 2016

Hope Trumps Fear


Miracle Girl: Hope Trumps Fear

As I watched Donald Trump's raging acceptance speech last Thursday, a pall fell over me. I admit for the first time in this election season, I began to feel afraid. What if people begin to accept his angry distortions and outright lies?

But in times like these, I always try to remind myself of all the groups Trump has--and continues to--offend. Admittedly, Trump has a certain enraged and hate-filled constituency, but the American people as a whole are a hopeful lot. They fell head over heels for Ronald Reagan's Morning in America.

All they have to do is step outside to see it's not Midnight in America.
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Thursday, July 21, 2016

Partying Like It's 1968


Miracle Girl: Partying Like It's 1968

Keith and I have been watching the Republican National Convention. We do that every four years, but we've never seen one like this. Neither have most people alive today.

Donald Trump is scary enough, but when I learned he's taking a leaf from Richard Nixon's 1968 playbook, I became truly terrified.

You should be too.
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Coma Girl

Coma Girl

Not a miracle recovery, but a miracle of modern medicine

In 2013 I fell into a six-week coma and nearly died after I contracted legionella. The Legionnaire's disease was in turn triggered by immunosuppression caused by the prednisone I was taking for my rare autoimmune disease, dermatomyositis.

I suffered a series of strokes on both sides of my brain when the sepsis caused my blood pressure to plummet. I fell into a deep coma. My kidneys and lungs began to fail, as my body was began dying one organ at a time. My doctors told my loved ones to give up hope for my full recovery. They expected me to die, and even if I somehow lived, I would remain a vegetable or at best left so hopelessly brain-damaged that I would never be same. But unbeknownst to them, while they were shining lights in my eyes and shaking their heads, I was telling them in my coma-dream--my secular version of a near-death experience--to leave me alone because I was trying to get back to sleep. I was experiencing what is known as covert cognition, the subject of my Skeptical Inquirer article "Covert Cognition: My So-Called Near-Death Experience," which appeared in their July/August issue.

But it wasn't a miracle--despite what so many continue to believe--that I recovered so fully. I owe my life not to God, but the miracles of modern medicine, as well as the nature of the watershed-area brain damage I suffered, as I detailed in my article and in this blog.