created by my beloved
also search TERESA FLISIUK, BLANKA PERIDOT,
Blanka Teresa Flisiuk Peridot
"I nie było nikogo, kto by jej nie zabił."
Sirens piercing night's calm may reinforce your trust that in your hour of grave danger, dedicated rescuers will be on the way and a safe environment of a hospital, a cathedral of a modern man, is there to help you with all its might.
It didn't work for our daughter. When she laid in agony, a nurse made an entry in a log - "Patient screams at intervals for no reason." While the nure was writing this sentence, Blanka, a person of superior intelligence, had to top her suffering with realization of horrors, of being in the death trap. And time there one cannot measure, only approximation that comes clumsily to mind, in steed of something unnamed, is eternity. Blanka is a gentle soul brisking with humor and wit, as relentlessly observative as quick to forgive, her absolute faith was all she was left with laying there. But Blanka is not her death, with tragic circumstances of her life's last hours, we, the family, are left here, on this side of the grave. Two hours later, she did let know her mother, up in Maine, that she is at peace. Gory details of the early morning, June 25, 2007, kept pilig up though, till 6.29 am, when after perfunctory Code Blue, they called the day. One thing is exceptional moral corrosion of the nurse, however everything that preceded and followed it in Blanka's thirty hours stay at University Hospital in New Orleans, aligns it as fitting the pattern of operation in that callous institution, corrupt city, dehumanized society and new dark ages times.
I, Blanka's father, write this on behalf of her horrific suffering she did not bring upon herself. We have five children, Blanka is the first, we tremble the four will complete full cycle of life, the thing she was deprived of at 31. But what do I know about the mother's pain, her rejection to acknowledge an irreconcilable fact and constant relieving her baby's martyrdom? I do know still that her grieving won't fade and to everyone in the family it is clear that her selfless mourning is already ultimate cause of her own death.
"Tylko Bóg jej nie zdradził i ślepo w nią wierzył
I przez łzy się uśmiechał, że ją w niebie przeżył.
„Ty musisz dla mnie polec na śmierci wezgłowiu,
A ja muszę dla ciebie trwać na pogotowiu!
Ty pójdziesz tą doliną, gdzie ustaje łkanie,
A ja pójdę tą górą na twoje spotkanie.
Ty opatrzysz me rany, ja twych pieszczot ciernie,
I będziem odtąd w siebie wierzyli bezmiernie!"
sweetie and grant