Death Comes in Threes is based on a performance art show, held live in Chicago 3/18/03. Kuypers did an extensive show about live before, during and after a horrendous no-fault car accident, where she had to reconstruct her life.
    While this performance art show was also released and is available on compact disc, the writings from this show (along with a select few pieces of artwork from the live show) used to be available in a book at cafepress.com, but the printer has discontinued printing. Contact Scars Publications or Janet Kuypers if you are interested in a hard copy of this book, and we can re-release it through an Amazon printer.
    A e-book/PDF file is also available (12.9 meg) of the book Death Comes in Threes, but you can also read selections of the book right here.

for my car or my life

it wasn’t until after the hospital,
an endless stream of weeks.
moving to another house
with unexpected people

face the facts, girl

put all of my belongings in storage,
my car was gone

was I expected to go through this?

•••

insurance companies wouldn’t fix the car
they gave me enough money
for my time, but not
for my life

No one has paid me back for all lost

I have no car
      no time
      no chance

who is going to pay me
for all I have lost

no one apologizes to me
I have no one to forgive

they couldn’t even give me that

when I was angry
when I resigned myself to losing anything I valued
when there was nothing I could do
to get that all back

I was invincible, you know
nothing could happen to me because nothing did
but I was in the intensive care unit
I was on a respirator
and I survived it

I could hope that time heals all wounds
that’s what people keep telling me
ask me in a few years
if I forgot
and everything is better

Life in 1997

    In 1997, I was doing pretty well. I worked as an art director of magazines and trade shows for a magazine publishing company. I had a car, a sweet apartment in Chicago, I saved money even though I pretty much had no budget, friends came over for parties, I had a few guys love and follow me.
    I had it pretty good.
    In my spare time, published books and ran a magazine and started a web site. But after a while I thought, hey Janet, you never got the chance to take off and travel before you started working. Maybe that’s something you could do now.
    So I quit my job, said a temporary good bye to my friends, kept paying for my apartment, and traveled around the United States before planning to travel to Europe.
    I visited Nebraska, Denver and Boulder Colorado, we went through Utah, where we saw national parks like The Grand Canyon, Bryce National Park, and even the Arches, where when there was no one around for miles when you hiked and you could sit alone at the top of rugged mountain edges and sit naked without anyone ever knowing. In Wyoming I watchd Old Faithful go off, I photographed hot springs... I went to Montana and Idaho, we went to Las Vegas, California, Tennessee, Florida,and even read with other Chicago poets in a show held for the National Poetry Slam in New Mexico.
    I even wrote this piece, thinking about changes I was going through and the upcoming millenium.

True Happiness in the New Millennium

I’m here to usher in a whole new millennium
I’m the new savior the savior of science
the savior of strength the savior of survival
survival of the fittest survival of the best
and I’m here to tell you we’re starting anew
so fasten your seat belts hang on to your hats
place your seat trays in their upright and locked position
for it’s a bumpy ride, and I’ll tell you why

I’m here to usher in a whole new millennium
the millennium of reason and logic and strength
and I don’t want to hear about your self-destruction
I don’t want to hear your whining, psychosis,
your depression, suicide, alcohol and drugs
and just what made you think that playing with needles
and escape would make things better somehow
God, I’ve always hated needles anyway
what is it with you people

well, you need a leader and I’m stepping up to the plate
you keep asking for a big brother and I’m here to set you straight
you want someone to wipe your noses for you
well, pick up the damn tissue and do it yourself
because when you give up your rights, you take away mine
and we’re not having any of that

I’m here to usher in a whole new millennium
and you say to me you need crystal meth
so you can stay awake through work
and you say to me that you don’t need to drink,
that you just like the taste
and you say to me that with all your escapism
you still don’t feel any better
and you say to me that sometimes suicide
is the only answer

I’m here to usher in a whole new millennium
I’m here to usher in a whole new generation
so stop asking for things and start working for things
because X is for ecstacy as long as it’s fast
and X is for extra but there’s always a cost
and ecstacy doesn’t come without extra work
no matter how many corners you cut
and you know, X is for X-Ray and I see right through that

they say that Eve ate from the tree from knowledge
but you know, she shouldn’t have stopped just then
cause the loggers are raping the trees of knowledge
the loggers are raping the forests of talent
the forests of ability the forests of reason
of skill of logic preserverance and life
we’re letting them rape the forests of excellence
and you know it’s now time to take it all back
because I’m here to usher in a whole new millennium
and I’m here to tell you how it’s going to be done

you’re looking for peace in all the wrong places
you’re asking your leaders to save you from yourself
but your leaders are losers and they’re worse off than you

I’m here to usher in a whole new millennium
where it’s time to take charge and it’s time fess up
only you can deliver you from your own sins
but first you must know what sin really is

it’s time to make choices and it’s time to lay claim
to everything we’ve been blindly giving away
because I’m here to usher in a whole new millennium
take charge of yourself, and I’ll take charge of me
I’m my leader, not yours, so wipe your own noses

take it in to your hands, people, mold your own tools
this is the new millennium, and this is your chance
because no one should be showing us how to fail
people mastered that feat a millennia ago
so set your own rules and do something fast
cause it’s time to take charge and it’s time to be alive

I’m here to usher in a whole new millennium
And I’m waiting for you to usher in yours
Because true happiness this way lies, my friend
and I won’t wait long if you lag behind
cause I’m setting my rules so step out of my way

I’m here to tell you there’s a new sensation
and I’m here to tell you there’s a new salvation
and that true happiness this way lies

New Orleans Talk

    I even went to New Orleans to first meet with my sister and her friend, then stayed there while another friend from Denver flew to meet me in New Orleans for a few days. Althought it wasn’t Mardi Gras, there are all these burlesque joints and open liquor and bizarre shops to check out. Even if you’re not the one being strange, it can be great to see the behavioe of others in that town.

Deaths One and Two

    While traveling in New Orleans and unable to get back in time, I also found out that Dave, a man I had dated the previous year and a half died of a heart attack, just shy of age 32.

    That was my first experience with death in this trip.

Death takes many forms.

Death takes many forms.
For you, death first came when you were five years old
and your mother had to give you three shots of insulin a day
until you could take a needle to yourself.
Did it hurt to push that needle into your arm, the first time?
Or did it hurt you more to know you had no choice?

Death takes many forms.
Death can be someone telling you without trying
that they are losing their sight.
Behind coke-bottle glasses you would see me and say,
"That’s a nice black suit you’re wearing."
And I would tell you, "It’s green."
And you wouldn’t believe me.
You wouldn’t hear the howling wind of the changing seasons.

Death takes many forms.
I know what follows the autumn wind.
It is winter now.
Do you remember when it happened?
The changes are subtle, the temperature drops,
first only slightly. It’s almost imperceptible.
Only when the first snow falls do you realize
where the seasons have gone.

Death takes many forms.
Death can be a sweat-soaked shirt, the shakes, dizziness
when you needed food.
You would look as pale as a ghost
as I would hold your cold wet arm and steady you.
Quick, some sugar will make everything better.
Isn’t everything better yet?

Death takes many forms.
The signs of death can come
when you lose your circulation.
"My feet are numb, Janet," you’d say.
"I can’t feel my feet anymore."
And I would rub your feet for you,
and you would say it makes a difference,
you feel better.

If only I could do this forever.

Death takes many forms.
I said good bye to you to travel my own road
but I didn’t think it was the last good bye.
How was I to know?

When I left, I knew you didn’t want me to go.
And now it’s my turn.

Why are we always saying good bye to each other?

Are you trying to teach me a lesson?
Because if you are, well,
I’ve learned it. Trust me, I have.
You can come back now.

Death takes many forms.
And now, now it seems
you’ve taken me down with you
you’ve taken me into that casket with you
and I’m running my hand along your jacket lapel
and I can feel the coldness of winter all around me
and I can hear them shoveling the dirt over my head
and I want to get out
and I want to take you with me.

Death takes many forms.
Death can be that hole you left,
you know, right over here, just a little to the left.
I keep wondering when the pain will go away.
When will everything be better.

You once showed me that winter could be beautiful.
Instead of the dark and dirty snow lacing the city streets
you showed me a quieting snowfall,
over a lake at your parent’s back yard
glistening in an untouched whiteness.
I told you I hated winters
and you told me, "This you don’t hate."

Well, I’m still learning.

It is winter now.
And death takes many forms.
The seasons change for you and I.
It is snowing. And something is ending.
It is snowing. Somewhere
it is snowing.

Princess Diana, 1 Year Later

I wonder what it’s like
to lead a near-perfect life
to have servants clean up after you
or to prepare all of your meals. What if
you hated everyone, including
yourself, and you couldn’t eat
food without throwing up or
gaining weight. What
would it be like if you
couldn’t leave your building
because you might be
photographed by some
unknown stranger.

What must it be like to have
anything you want
sometimes, and sometimes
you can’t have anything
you could even
remotely want

I wonder if that’s
what it’s like to be
royalty
That’s what
it has to be like
to feel important
all the time
I wouldn’t know
I wonder if any member
of royalty, on any given
morning, on any given day,
I wonder if someone
like that would ever feel
anything other than the
usual pain that they fee
would
you hear from everyone
that you were perfect,
but would you still
keep telling yourself
that you were nothing
with a
question like that, with
an issue like that, wouldn’t
anyone wonder what
would win the daily battle?

Death comes in waves of threes

    As strange as this sounds, that was sort of the second death in my trip I encountered.

    Have you ever heard people say that death usually comes in threes? It’s a strange thing to say, but when something terrible happens like that, you can almost expect over a short time that these waves of death can come a few times.
    Almost to make sure you get the point.

The Morning of July Eleventh

    I don’t remember what happened the day of my quote-unquote death, death number three. It was just a day, a normal summer day, a day like any other. I remember seeing the fireworks for the 4th of July in Chicago on the street with my roommate Eugene, and I remember that I was wearing a white shirt and it started to rain, so I had to lean my body so my shoulders were at Eugene’s back so I wouldn’t get drenched with my white shirt. It was Saturday, July Eleventh, and I apparently was going over to my parent’s house, where my sister Sandy lived, to go swimming because it was sunny. After Getting on the Kennedy, It took I55 southwest of Chicago and exited route 45 South so I could drive the suburbs and see my family.
    The rest of the accounts came from eyewitnesses.
    That and what the people at the hospital told my mother.

    I was at the intersection of 95th and route 45; I was at the end of a line of people waiting at a red light. The light had just turned green, but you know how long it takes for people to get moving when the light changes, we were still sitting there waiting to get moving just as the light changed.
    Now at that point in the road, the intersection was at the bottom of a hill, and if you are coming south toward the intersection you’ll see the light before you’ll see the street.
    This apparently was the case for the driver of a sedan, he apparently saw the green light and continued speeding on the 55 mile per hour road.
    As I said, I was at the end of the line of cars. So I would get caught in the crossfire.
    Accounts state that there was a motorcyclist in front of me, and a van in front of him.
    Eyewitnesses said they saw me looking at my rear-view mirror in my car, I must have seen this speeding car coming towards me.
    I couldn’t move my car into the empty left lane next to me, there was no room. I could only guess that I turned the wheels of my car to the left so that I wouldn’t run into the motorcyclist, who I’m sure would have died from being hit.
    Originally, in part, I got away by traveling. But apparently after waiting to get away again, this time from some stranger in a car, I was struck. and all went black.

Twelve Thirty, July Eleventh

    So what happened was that this speeding car hit the back of my car, knocking me into oncoming traffic because my wheels were turned. A van from the opposite lane of traffic then hit my front passenger-side corner and dragged my car for a bit.
    Police accounts said that there were skid marks from my car tires for one hundred and eight feet.
    Yeah, well, how was that second driver to know someone would appear in front of him as he was driving?
    Yeah, how can you blame him.

    To brake the news to my mother, they had to rummage through what things they could find of mine from the car, rummage through the pockets of my clothing, my purse was buried under the seat, so they got a phone number, and they called, and my mother answered.
    “Do you know someone who drives a red sedan?” they asked.
    “Yes, I do,” my mother answered. “Did something happen to her?”
    The hospital chaplain informed her there was an accident and they would like her to come and identify a body.

    Yes, identify a body.

    My mother got off the phone to rush to the hospital, she was sure I was dead.
    When my mother and my sister arrived at the hospital, my mother was thrilled when they walked into the room and saw me with tons of tubes sticking out all around me. “She’s not dead!” my mother exclaimed, as they went to see me lying unconscious.
    My mother even commented that I looked so nice there. She said I looked nice because I even had eye make-up on.
    My sister had to tell her that I wasn’t wearing make-up; that I had two black eyes.

    I was unconscious for eleven days, the coma lasted two weeks.
     The day of the crash they wanted to be sure no one else was in the car with me, because there was metal and car parts from the passenger side of the car jutting all they way to where I was sitting as I drove. For all intents and purposes, the passenger seat was gone.
    Which might explain the injuries on the right side of my head. They kept a monitor on my skull for the end of my unconscious spell to monitor the amount of fluid around my brain. I have a little indentation in my forehead, at my hairline, from having that attached to my head.
    You know, for my own good.
    I was told that I had no broken limbs, but three skull fractures, they even had to makesure they all set properly because one on my forehead, on this side here, had to set properly so my right eye wouldn’t have any problems.

In every car accident, there are actually three crashes.

    In every car accident, there are actually three crashes.
    The first is when one car hits another one.
    The second is when the outside of the human body hits the interior of the car.
    The third is when, within the human body, organs crash into each other, and crash into your own bones.

Their Crutches

Am I supposed to know
what it’s like to go through
what you’re about to go through?

I’ve never had an operation

but I guess I can imagine

they’ll keep you drugged most of the time
you’ll be unconscious for the operation
you’ll be stuck in a hospital bed
for longer than you want

but this is supposed to be
what’s best for you,
that’s what they tell you

you could be tired of being in the hospital
you might want more visitors

no one will know
what to say to say
everything will think
you need rest, you need help
even if you’re sure
you don’t need their crutches

I didn’t say it would be easy
and I haven’t done this before

maybe I can say that
I’m sure that I’ll visit
and I’m sure you’ll be fine
I know you’ll want to hear that
I can do that for you

Elvira Doe

    Shortly after I regained consciousness, my family told me they were slightly concerned, for two reasons.
    One was that since they couldn’t find identification on me when I was first brought in, instead of calling me Jane Doe they nick-named me Elvira Doe. The second thing they noticed was that the people in the hospital handed back all my dirty, discheveled, ripped up, torn cloths, and the only thing that was missing was a bra.

Fences and Stright Jackets

    So as I start to regain consciousness, I’m stuck in there at Christ Hospital, and I want to get out. I remember one of the first chances I had to leave, I was lying in bed, they expected me to sleep there, I was probably barely conscious, I doubt could even stand, but I tried to get out of bed and I fell out of bed and the nurses had to come get me, and they had to call my parents, I was fine, but it was their policy to call. But because they were afraid of me falling again, they put a metal bar around the side of my bed, I don’t know, it was like a guard rail to keep pedestrians away from something dangerous, or a zoo fence so people could feel safe while they watched the trapped animal they have on display for you. So they had this metal rail around my bed, but that wasn’t the worst part, they also put a harness on me at night, a straigh jacket, so to speak, probably so that I wouldn’t be able to use my arms to help me leave.
     They kept a wrist band with my stats on it on my wrist, so that if I wanderd off they’d know where I belonged, to keep me in place. I hated that damn wrist band, I’d rip it off probably almost daily, and they had to make a new one and strap it on me.
    You know, to know where I belong.

Wrapping up the Harness

    I don’t know why they had to keep a dtraight jacket... i mean, a harness on me, were they trying to keep me in place? Once I regained enough of my consciousness back all I could wonder was, is this how they were trying to stop me? I just wanted to be able to sleep the night through without being restricted, without my arms being bound. I finally managed to contort myself out of it one night, not so I would escape, but just so I could feel more sane in this place. The next morning the nurses didn’t know why the harness was wrapped up on my night stand. My mother saw it wrapped up there and knew that I had to have done that, and she had to think that if I as that currning enogh, I must be getting better.

Someone Give Me the Answers

I don’t think I can respect
people     Can anyone give me
the answers     I’ve been looking
and looking, and none of the
solutions are coming to me

Have I been taught to be so different
from the rest of the world
Maybe I have been     Maybe I’m the
one with the different answers,
and maybe I don’t know where to begin.
And maybe no one can help me through this

My dictionary is older than my schooling
and my encyclopedia set is older than I am

I’ve been looking for answers to what
I thought were simple questions and the
people who are supposed to be smarter
than I am never have the answers for me

I’ve talked to a lot of people in my
lifetime, and with each day that passes I
lose more respect for the people I’ve known

This doesn’t seem like a fair thing for me
to admit

I mean, to hear a woman complain
about how awful everyone else is isn’t
nice, fair or reasonable

Maybe I’ve just had some bad breaks
I don’t
know what my excuses are, or what my reasons
are--but the problem is that I don’t think anyone
has a reason for the majority of the actions
they engage in

Or should I say commit instead of engage in

I can’t even finish a sentence and I’m
expecting finished sentences and sense and
answers from all of the people I’ve already
lost so much faith in

But that’s enough about me
I’ll get back to a more
interesting subject right away

I was recently in the hospital for 6 weeks
When
I regained consciousness,
I was given the same meal three
times a day
Most every day I slept in the hospital,
I was physically strapped to my bed so that I would
stay in my bed all night

This is not meant as my defense against anyone’s
actions, my own or others

This was not an
uncommon occurrance for my treatment
I don’t
know how anyone else was treated,
but I am guessing
I was one of at least 20 patients in the same institution,
in the same ward,with the same teachers

Take from this what you will

Sometimes the answers don’t come easy
The
answers haven’t come to me for quite a while
not
since my accident, or since my hospital visits

Not since most of my school days
or since a lot of
my friendships

Maybe the events in my life haven’t
given me the answers
but maybe the events in
everyone’s life also have missing answers.

I don’t know where the answers are
I don’t know where
my answers were
I’ll try to find the answers one day,
and if anyone can help me, let me know

Sometimes It’s Not

there are many things you learn in life

the key is:
figuring out when you learn them
and what you can do about them

there are some things that you can’t avoid
and there are some things you can put off
for as long as possible
and then you’ll have to face them
there are some things you want to run to
and you want to do everything you can
to make sure you don’t let go of those things

and sometimes that’s enough
sometimes it’s not

sometimes I look for the answers
and usually I can’t find any answers
and that’s supposed to make me feel better
and it doesn’t

sometimes I wish I could
turn back the hands of time
and maybe I would think
that the things in life that are important to me
well, maybe I’d think they weren’t so important

then again, I might still think
that I could live forever

well, we all have our hope
and we all have our dreams
and usually we don’t think about them
and often we try to avoid them

but all those thoughts, well,
they still find a way to manage their way
back into you life like that

Hallucinations

    So yeah, I was just loving being in that hospital, trapped in that room, I imagined I was actually at my apartment and not in a hospial bed. I even talked about this, and my sister, not wanting me to hallucinate, told me,
    “Okay, you say the bathroom is just past the door,
    (which was my hospital room door),
    why don’t you show it to me.”
    And so I’d walk out the hospital door and
    look down the hall,
    and I was stunned,
    this wasn’t right, I thought,
    and I stood there for a split second,
    and I said,
    well,
    it was here.

Imagining Friends & Loved Ones

    Day in and day out I would stay in that hospital room, and I was really going nuts ... I imagined my friend Brian, who now lives in San Francisco, bevoming my roommat, dressing up as an old lady so no one would recognize him and no one would think that he was my friend visiting me, so that I would have someone there to talk to when I was sitting there all alone, all by myself, day in and day out.
    No, my friend Brian never cisited me, and I did have an old lady ofr a roommate, and no, I never talked to her, but I kept thinking to myself that this was how I could keep myself sane,
    by imagining that a stranger was a friend,
    just so I could get through my days.

Imagining Dave

    And I was never able to get over Dave’s death, where he died three months before my death ... and I wasn’t able to get across the country for his funeral, so I could never see his face to say goodbye to him. So, I would fantasize, I think, oh him appearing at my room, coming in through a side entrance so no one would see him, and he would come up to visit me, and I would say,
    “How did you get here, you’re supposed to be dead, did everyone see you”
    and he said, “no, no, no, I managed to hid so no one would spot me because no one knows I’m alive. But I wanted to know how you were doing, because I didn’t want anyting to happen to you, and I wanted you to be okay, and I wanted you to not die.”

will be just fine

i could never take care
of anything, you know

and i wonder what i’ve done
to you

could I find you again
hold you in my arms
rock you like a baby
stroke your hear
and tell you everything
will be just fine

They Wouldn’t Trust Me with a Razor

    After being in the hospital so long, my hair was growing long, I never even got to shave my legs even, I was completely unkept. I wanted to at least be able to shave my legs in the shower, but they wouldn’t trust me with a razor.
    I had to have a family member watch me, just so I could take a shower and try to get myself in order.

No One Gave Me Flowers

    One day, in what seemd like an endless stream of weeks, I got flowers, and I was stunned, I was thrilled, no one had sent me flowers before wile I was here in the hospital, I didn’t know who they were from.
    When we looked at the card, they were flowers for a Janet Spinoto, a woman who apparently was somewhere else in the hospital, and I thought, that’s what I get for thinking that someone would buy me flowers.

As I Recovered

I was supposed to be
saving a life by turning the wheels
and avoiding an accident. Well,
I did. I turned the wheels
and that saved the other driver’s life.
Since my wheels were turned I was
pushed into oncoming traffic
so another car could hit me,
i think the first car hitting me was
enough, but while we’re at it, let’s
get someone else to hit the car as well,
well as I was saying since
another car could and did hit me
they decided while they hit my car that
they would push me over 100 feet. That’s
what I got for saving a life.

In the hospital, after I
got out of the coma, no one
even visited me. Oh, I know my
family was there and it would have been more
depressing if they couldn’t have been
there for me, but when I say no one
visited me, I mean no on that did this to me
visited me. Not the people
who hit me, not the guy
who’s life I saved. None of
those people even attempted to
pay me back. For my car,
or my time, or my coma, or my
feeling that this is natural, yet even
for being nice. I have the
physical scars and the
emotional scars from that
accident and from that day. And
no one ever apologized to me
for the pain they caused No one
even visited me as I recovered.

Any Help At All

I don’t know when the bad stuff
is supposed to end and when
the good stuff is supposed to begin

maybe I’ve been failing in my efforts
to find some good stuff, I don’t know

I’ve been hoping for that happiness, though
and I don’t know where to look any more

I’m tired of doing things myself
and I’m tired of looking for my own answers
for all the troubles I experience
I’m tired of looking
I want someone to help me out on this one

I don’t know where I’m going to
find that help, though

maybe people kept seeing me
with my head on my shoulders
and they got tired of looking
in my direction
to see if I needed anything

but I always want
what others don’t expect me to want

and I still don’t know where I’m
going to, to find any help at all

Get It Over With

I wonder how much time would
be before it would be woul before
the hurting would stop hurting, and when
you’d start to think that everything
was okay and that you for no
reason could be happy out of the
blue. I wonder how much time
would have to pass before you got
to that point, where the world
seemed good again and you could just
move on with life and get it over with.

Sometimes I think about the
number of people who I have
cared about and who have turned
around on me and died. It doesn’t
seem fair when you think about
death on those terms, but it is
kind of sad when you think about
it that way. My father’s parents
died when I was younger, and my
brother’s ex-wife died, too. And
I’ve seen friends go off to war,
when I was sure they were
going to die, and they came
back, just fine. And I’ve seen
people that I’ve cared about
become hospitalized after they
were hit by a car. No, I
don’t suppose much of it is
very happy or anything. Well,
death as a rule isn’t very
happy or anything, and no one
likes to think about death, not
their own death or anyone else’s
death, for that matter. So how
do we get to that point, where
the pain from such a potentially
awful experience disappears from
inside you. How many years
does it take for that pain to be
acknowledged before it can
be forgotten so everything can be better?

I asked my mother today when
someone I cared about died, I
mean, what time of year did he die?
You see, I couldn’t remember being
sad because he was dead or
anything, and I couldn’t think
of what time of year it had
happened. And my mother seemed
shocked by my question, and she
responded by saying, "he’s not
dead." And then it all came back
to me, that he didn’t die, that he was fine.

After I had that discussion with
my mother, it had occurred to me
that I should have mourned him,
that I should have been sad. that
no one seemed to miss me. It
occurred to me then that I was
missing a huge void in my life,
and that I didn’t know how to
fill in all the gaps in my life that
I was starting to feel and just
starting to miss.

I only have another 60 years of
this feeling in my life to go, if
all goes according to plan.

I sometimes think about all
of the times in my life where
I have missed something that
should have been important,
something that could have made
me laugh. Those moments come all
too frequently, sometimes.
Sometimes you just forget life,
what you’re living life for,
and life passes you by and you
feel like you’ve got nothing
to show for all the years
that you’ve lived that you can’t
remember. I wonder how many people
that happens to, unexpectedly.

Today I thought of someone who
died recently, and I thought
that it would be nice if they
just came up to me and made
an effort to surprise me and
they tried to come up with
conversation and they tried
to make me laugh. And after I had
thought about that for a moment
I thought, wait, he’s dead, he’s
not going to do what he used
to do, and I’m going to have to remember
him this way. I didn’t like that
idea at all, come to think of it.
I wanted him to just be him,
and I wanted him to crack a joke
and make me laugh and be his
usual self.

I think my problem is that I just
don’t want people to stop being
themselves. I want to remember that
people can laugh, and crack jokes,
and be senseless and silly, sometimes,
like I like to be.

Well, to put it all that way I suppose
I just wanted him to be alive. I get
tired of thinking of people
as being dead, when they didn’t deserve
their fates and they deserved to
live on. I just get angry to think that people
who didn’t deserve this got this, and it was
awful luck, so to speak, and that they
needed more. Those are the times
when I try to make myself
remember what they liked and
how they lived. Well, that doesn’t
make me feel much better, but I
try to think of the good stuff anyway.

Sometimes I wonder about things
like that. Who is it harder on when
someone dies? Is it harder on the
ones who have to die? Or is it
harder on the survivors who have to live
with only a handful of memories?

When I almost died, I didn’t think about
death. I mean, I was unconscious,
I was in a coma. But when I felt like I
was starting to feel normal again,
well, all I could think about then was that
I had to get better. I had to teach myself
how to eat. And how to walk. And talk.
And I had to get out of that wheel-
chair that they wanted to keep me
seated in, even though I felt fine. When
people tried to make me different
from who I was, well, that’s when I
learned how to have my own set
of rules, and I also learned not to
tell anyone about my rules. No one
would want to hear my stupid little
rules, anyway. They’ll have to learn
about their own rules on their own time.

Death is a pretty scary subject. It
can cover a bunch of different
territories that the average person
isn’t ready for. Even when some of us
think we have it all together, well, that’s
when someone throws us the curve ball
of death to tell us that we might have
been wrong, that we might not have
been prepared for everything.

How do you prepare for something like
this, though? What do you do?

What Do You do

what do you do
if you almost die

do you wear your seat belt more
do you not go for motorcycle rides
do you walk closer to the side of the road

someone can hit you there, you know

what do you do
if you almost die

do you tell people you love them
do you eat healthier foods
do you exercise more

what do you do

Like My Motto

It is so easy to hope for things

It is easy, I guess, when you’ve got nothing
to hope for something

because it is nice to think
that there is someone out there for you
and you will have a happy ending

I know women who think that
it would be nice if there was a nice rich guy
that would come along
and sweep them off their feet
and then for the rest of their lives
they could east bon bons
and watch movies on their television
and they could decide where their adopted child
will go for private school

I never said I thought that way
but I know that ideology exists

And at times I just get tired of fighting it
I figure that no one is listening to me and
I figure that this whole hope thing
is over, well,
overdone
Over-rated
Overly confusing

Over-something

So I’m wondering that if
I’m getting tired of fighting it, well,
why am I even fighting any of this?
Everyone has been stepping all over me,
so why don’t I just get used to
the whole cycle

I’ve got treadmarks on my back
from the bicycles and motorcycles and cars
all running me over
and there are heel marks and toe prints
as people were using me as their stepping stool
to climb the corporate ladder

my face is now covered with soot
because every time I try
to clean myself off
someone fights me
and steps on me
and pushes my cheek into the asphalt again
strands of my hair are matted into my face now
into ny mouth
almost touching my eye
and this is the cycle, I think,
this is the way it goes
so stop fighting, girl
stop fighting
Get used to it
These are the words
I have to keep telling myself
until they are like my motto

Isn’t That What It’s All About

    My curse is that after this accident I have the brains to know what happened to me, how bad it was, but that I survived it and now have to suffer with it, and to pick up the pieces and function on my own.
    I think that people think that when you get out of the hospital you must be FINE. Clean bill of health. They are so wrong.
    Now I feel like a soldier and I don’t know what I’m protecting any more. I want to give the enemy what he has been looking for. It’s a battle I am so often not willing to fight. Here. Take my weapons. You’ve stripped me of most of them now, so let me hand you the rest, freely. Let me have this, let me do this. Let me give this compilation of everything and nothing. Isn’t that what it’s all about?

A beacon alone

I know I’m meant to be standing alone
I’ve dine it all my life
and I’m fully used to the feeling
and I’ve been living without anyone for so long
and I wanted to let you know that I’m used to that
and I can do it on my own
and I don’t need someone to help me pick up the pieces
and I don’t need someone to wipe my nose or
tell me how and when to brush my teeth
and comb my hair and fold my clothes.
Have I said this to you before? Probably. Do I
think this needs repeating? Usually. Then no one
gets get what I want and what I do. But this
is what I’ve been used to all my life,
this rejection, this feeling like I’m
supposed to be this way, this feeling
that there’s no chance for me. You might
think it. The rest of the world does.
But let me tell you once, in the easiest
way I know how, let me tell you that I
am strong and I know what I need and I
know what to do and I’ve been fine on my own
all of this time. Maybe I’ve been just
waiting for someone to come along
and make it all better for me. Well,
maybe that’s my job, to do what I’ve
been planning, and someone else
will notice that you don’t have
to do it like everyone else. I don’t know
if I’m a beacon, but it’s nice to think of me
that way, whether of not it’s accurate.

I don’t know if I’m a beacon. But for now,
it’s nice to think of me that way.

I wonder when someone will notice my
differences. I wonder when someone will think
I’m different. I wonder when someone will notice

Making Sense Out Of The Insane

There are many things that I have needed
And there are things that other people call mere wants
But to me they are the same thing

I have had too many things happen to me
And I am supposed to take the good with the bad
And I am supposed to see the silver lining for every cloud

And sometimes I can’t see the silver lining
Sometimes I only get to see the dripping blood from
The wounds that were cut poorly

And haven’t had a chance to heal

That’s one of the things about modern life
Sometimes there is no happy ending
And sometimes you can look and look, but you can’t find it

And sometimes making sense out of the insane is pointless
Because sometimes the insane starts to make sense
Maybe you can’t understand that

Maybe you can’t understand that because you haven’t done what I have
And you haven’t gone through what I have
And you haven’t learned how to bottle up all the hate

I don’t know where the silver lining is supposed to be and
I don’t know where to look for the things
that are supposed to make me happy

Because I’m getting pretty tired of looking

I’ve changed all my goals in life
The short term ones and the long term ones too
And after a while that has an effect on you

After a while you start to feel like a prisoner who
Is just getting the life kicked out of you
By a bunch of other prisoners who for the moment have the edge

While all the other guards are paid to look away
It’s funny how the prisoners get the coin from their

Drug deals to pay all the good guys off

When you start to see that
And when you start to feel like that
the line between sanity and insanity becomes blurred

Feel So Much

There are some points where
you just have to stop caring about things

Well, maybe I care about too much stuff
and that is why I have to stop myself

Sometimes you just have to draw a line
to separate yourself from other people
because you can care too much
and sometimes others don’t care enough

It’s hard to draw that line, you know
because to say that you don’t care any more
is like killing a part of yourself

Well, I’ve been doing that for years
am I dead yet

Does it seem cruel to want to kill
a part of yourself
Maybe
But
does it seem cruel to feel so much?

saying that you don’t care any more
killing a part of yourself
                    I’ve been doing that for years
                    am I dead yet

Indoctrination with Religion

    But the thing is, when I’d try to do anything in that room, all I saw was this reminder that I was at Christ hospital, I would be reminded by seeing something religious everywhere I turned. I’d turn on the television, Christian programming. I’d take paper they had so I could write journal entries, the paper would have religious phrases on it, references to God, and I thought I was going nuts, what are they trying to do, indoctrinate me?
     I know it was Christ hospital, but all I thought was, did God hurt me and trap me here ... and how is God going to save me?

being god

I’m tired of taking this knife to my hands
over and over again giving myself the stigmata
the blood gets all over my clothes
and I can never get the stains out
and for what, for you to see how I suffer

I’m tired of being humble when I’m
supposed to be the one with the power
over and over again I become your servant
and never are you bowing to me
I don’t even get a thank you

I’m tired of preaching to the converted
when the converted aren’t even really listening
they’re snoring in the back rows while I
deliver my sermon and there’s not even air
conditioning in here and I’m sweating

I’m tired of coming to you and healing the sick
taking away the problems, over and over again
giving you something to look forward to
and all I have is an eternity of waiting for
someone to take my place and tend to my wounds

I’m tired of giving the earth up to you
watching the devil’s work be done, and you know,
he’s just sitting down there looking at me
and laughing, over and over again because it’s
so easy for him when he doesn’t have to work

I’m tired of being your salvation
over and over again you turn to me
and I have no one to turn to but myself
it’s a bitch, you know, being your own god
since no one can save me from me

I’m tired of being your teacher, handing you
what you need on a silver platter and waiting
for that damn collection plate and someone
is always stealing out of it from the back row
I know who you are, you who leave me nothing

I’m tired of wearing this crown of thorns
over and over again the needles prick my skin
and even gods bleed, at least this one does
and when I ask you to wipe the blood
out of my eyes, well, I can’t see you anywhere

I’m tired of being something for everybody
when everyone is nothing for me
maybe the devil has the right idea, you know
maybe I’ll sit back and wait for you miss me
as you wonder who’s your messiah now

Seizures, Reactions & Drugs

    Months after I got out of the hospital, I had a Grand Mal seizure. You don’t remweember going through it, it’s like you black out, but your eyes are wide open, gritting teeth, shaking violently. Apparently the doctors told my family (but they didn’t bother informing me, the patient) that I may expect this after the injury I had, so there I go, back to the hospital, they load me up with Dilantin, inject an overdose of it into my bloodstream and it’s making my arm itch from all of this medication, I was gripping the sides of this bed in pain.
     I wanted the pain to end, but it couldn’t, of course not, we couldn’t have that, because I had an allergic rash reaction 10 days after I paid for a ton of medication I was supposed to be on for years, so they then switched me over to Tegratol, and yes, eleven days later, allergic reaction, so on to the expensive drug, Depakote. I had to eventually go to a fourth drug for this sharade, and each time it was a different set of rules:
    take 3 times a day,
    take twice daily,
    no alcohol,
    extended release is available on this one,
    but not on this one. It was dizzying.

medication

I closed my eyes at 4:32. I hated that damn alarm clock. And
taking the pills early still wouldn’t make the pain go away
before I woke up. I knew that. But I took them anyway. And
I tried to fall back asleep. And I dreaded 5:30, when I’d have to move.

5:40, I couldn’t wait any longer, I couldn’t be late, we
couldn’t have that, so I’d finally swing my legs to the floor.
I’d put on my robe and limp into the kitchen. The trip to the
kitchen lasted for hours. And picking up the milk carton from the
refrigerator hurt like hell. This wasn’t supposed to be happening,
not to me. Just pour the damn milk. I’d wipe the tears from my chin
and sit down for breakfast.

II
The doctor doubled the dosage, and he was amazed
that I needed this much. He told me to follow the directions
strictly, STRICTLY. “You can’t take these in the morning the way
you have been,” he’d say. “You have to take them with food.”
That doesn’t help when I’m crying from the pain in the morning.
But I could get an ulcer, he’d say. And I wouldn’t want that.
Of course not. I just wanted the pain to go away.

Take one tablet three times daily, with meals.
Do not drink alcohol while on medication.
Take with food or milk. Do not skip medication.
Do not take aspirin while using this product.
Do not operate heavy machinery. May cause ulcers.

<

B>III
All I had to do was get through the mornings. The mornings
were the hardest part. Just take a little more pain, and
by the afternoon it will all be fine. Just fine.

An hour after the pills, and I’d start to feel dizzy.
I’d stare at a computer screen and it would move, in circles, back and
forth. I wanted to grab the screen and make it stay in place. But
I’d look at my fingers and they would go in and out
of focus. I’d feel my head rocking forward and backward;

I couldn’t hold myself still. I’d sit at my desk and my eyes would
open and close, open and close. Before I knew it, ten minutes passed
and I remembered nothing. I could have been screaming
for ten minutes straight and I wouldn’t have known it. Or crying.
Or sleeping. Or laughing. Or dying.
I had just lost ten minutes of my life, they were just taken
away from me, ripped away from me, and I could never
get them back.

And I could still feel traces of the pain, lingering in my bones.

IV
I’d sit up at night and just stare at the bottle. It was a
big bottle, as if the doctors knew I’d take these drugs forever.
Hadn’t it been forever already? I’d open a bottle, look at a pill.
They looked big too. Pink and white. What pretty colors.

And then I’d think: If one tablet, fifty milligrams, could put me
to sleep in the morning, could make me dizzy, could take
a part of my life from me, then think about what the other
thirty-six could do. 1800 milligrams. It could kill me.
I wouldn’t want that. Of course not.
But just think, the bottle isn’t even full.

May cause ulcers. May cause dizziness. Side effects may vary
for each patient. May cause weight gain. May cause weight loss.
May cause drowsiness. May cause irritability.
Medication may have to be taken consistently
for weeks before expected results. If effects become severe,
consult physician immediately.

V
I began to count. In the mornings I took eight pills:
one multivitamin, one calcium pill, one niacin pill, one
fish oil capsule, one garlic oil pill, and one pink-and-white
pain killer that I was special to have, because you need
a doctor’s permission to take those. Then I took diet pills:
one starch blocker, one that was called a “fat magnet.”
As if the diet pills worked anyway. But I still took them.

And then I had to watch the clock, take a pink-and-white
at one in the afternoon, a different pill at five o’clock,
another pink-and-white at six o’clock, and there was also
usually sinus medication that I had to take every
six hours in there, too. Or was it eight hours? I started to
watch the clock all the time, I bought a pill container
for my purse so that I would always have my medication with me.

When I’d feel my body start to ache again, I’d look at the clock.
It would be fifteen minutes before I had to take another pill.

What The Third Death is Like

    When do you know it’s over, you’re recovered and everything’s better? I mean, the medications and the doctors visits and the blood samples finally stopped, and I can drive and use a knife in the kitchen without fearing my own safety, and walk down the stairs without someone a handrail or someone else’s help, but...but that feeling is always there, the feeling
    like you went through Hell and no one knows what it’s like and you can’t tell them because they just don’t have the time to listen
    You know when you hear that someone dies (a grantparent, a cousin, an old friend), you feel terrible, you bawl your eyes out... You go to the funeral you reehash the good times to try to make you feel better
    And maybe, you know, maybe two weeks later...you’re no longer crying.
    Because people move on
    people forget what the victim went through
    people don’t know
                    people never knew
    and you can never know how to tell them

    That’s what that third death can be like, i think.

Pressure On Me Again

Man, you put a lot of pressure on me
and I feel this pressure so many times
and there’s nothing I can do about it

I’m so sick of not being in control of everything
I’m tired of defining how everything goes

I have to define my own life
and I don’t know how to make all the changes
I want to happen well, happen in my life
it’s hard for me to make these
changes actually, happen
when I’m all alone on this one
and have to do these things myself

I have to define my own life
I need to take a magic marker
a big black bold marker
and create the path that defines who I am

I need to make my own choices
and color them in
so no one can put that pressure on me again

I’m not sick but I’m not well

I’m not sick but I’m not well
the doctors find nothing wrong with me
and believe me, they’ve taken the x-rays
they’ve striped me down
and made me wear one of those awful paper robes
and they’ve felt me up
and checked me out
and found what they were looking for
but didn’t find anything I was looking for

I’m not sick but I’m not well
and I can’t help but think
that everything I’m doing to make things better
might only be making things worse
so I don’t want to listen to what
you have to say anymore
and I want this IV out of my arm
and I want this oxygen tube out from my nose
and I want this suppository out of my ass
and I want you to get that scalpel away from me
because I want everything I’ve got

I’m not sick but I’m not well
and they want me if they can keep me in line
and they want me if they can cut me open
      and take out my insides
      and suck out the fat
      and suck out the life
      and make me generic
      and make me dependent
      make me unreal
      make me not whole
and i’ve walked that line with all you doctors
and I want all my parts back
and I want to be healthy

no, I’m not sick and maybe I’m not well
but you’re only making me worse
I don’t have the answers but neither do you
so instead of tearing me apart
      and dissecting me
      and studying the bones
let me just stay together for a while
until I figure it all out

A Gun To My Head

    I’m at a grocery store, I don’t know what I’m getting but I’ve got a basket for food, I’m there alone, there are others in the store, but no one is paying attention to me.
    Suddenly there’s a gun to my head.
    I know that sounds strange, but suddenly there is someone next to me, I have no idea who it is, but they’ve got a gun to my head, and no one else is noticing or paying attention.
    The gun is at my temple, my right temple. I can feel the metal against my shin there, it’s cold, and I can’t move my head or this guy’ll blow my head off. I don’t know what he wants from me, but that doesn’t matter right now, I’ve got this gun to my head, I have to try to keep my cool, hold everything together & not mess anything up.
    My life depends on it.

don’t need the crutches

this is the world and sometimes you have to survive
everything that is thrown in your direction.

it is important to understand that I don’t need the crutches
it is true, I don’t need you, and I can get along fine without you

three months later
do I feel any different
should the world be now revolving at a different pace
was everyone just used to the world

or is it just me, feeling the change,
is it just me, thinking that things are different

people go through life with a lack of emotion, feeling, thought
I have never been asked to function that way
I have never been able to just let life go by

better

some people always had the better cars
with the nice red stripe down the side
or maybe better shoes or better clothes or a better date

doesn’t it just suck how people can be the biggest jerks in their
day to day life to people they don’t even know

isn’t it funny how these people are invariably the ones
who have the money from the parents or they marry people with money
and their life is spent in this plush heaven

And then there’s you or me, someone who has always tried to do well
and they never have enough money or the right clothes
or the wrong kind of car

I guess some people just have a run of bad luck

What Have I Won

There is so much
That I have wanted
And there is so little
That I have actually
Received

And there is so much
That I have hated

And there is nothing
I can do
And there is nothing more
I can ask
I know that much

they have tried to take away
my brain from me
but lucky for me,
I fought to get it back

and lucky for me
I won

But what have I won
What

I Recover and Everyone Moves On

    I don’t know how many times i’ve envisioned a gun to my head.
    (If I tried to tell you, I’d sound redundant)
    But usually in the car I envision an accident again. But I always end up in better condition than I was after that one accient
    I’m usually barely conscious,
    You know, to imply that something is wrong with me, but I’m conscious enough to know in my stories that I’m going to be okay,
    I’m barely conscious, but i’m okay
    because that is what i do

    I recover, and everyone then moves on.

about the author

    Janet Kuypers graduated from the University of Illinois in Champaign/Urbana with a degree in News/Editorial Communications Journalism (with computer science engineering studies). She had a minor in photography and specialized in creative writing. In the early 1990s she was an acquaintance rape workshop facilitator, and edited to two literary magazines.
    Since she got fed up with her job as the art director of a few magazines for a publishing company, Janet Kuypers, to relieve the stress:
    (a) vents her twenty-something angst musically with acoustic bands called Mom’s Favorite Vase, Weeds and Flowers and the Second Axing, and attempts to learn to play the guitar,
    (b) writes so much that she irritates editors enough to get her published in books, magazines and on the internet over 8,800 times for writing or over 17,000 times for art work in her professional career, and has been profiled in such magazines as Nation and DiscoverU and has been interviewed on ArtistFirst dot com’s Internet radio station, and has repeatedly been highlighted with interviews and readings for years with WZRD 88.3 FM radio in Chicago,
    (c) turns that writing into performance art on her own and with musical groups like Pointless Orchestra, 5D/5D and Order From Chaos,
    (d) writes so much that in order to make her feel like a big shot she gets ten books published: Hope Chest in the Attic, The Window, Close Cover Before Striking, (woman.) (spiral bound), Autumn Reason (novel in letter form), the Average Guy’s Guide to Feminism, Contents Under Pressure, Changing Gears (travel journals around the United States), The Key To Believing (2002 650 page novel), and etc.
    (e) gets tired of thinking about her own pathetic life, so runs a non-profit publishing company, where she does internet work and book design, and edits a literary and art magazine so she can read and broadcast other people’s depressing stories,
    (f) performs spoken word and music, both locally and across the country - in the spring of 1998 she embarked on her first national tour, with featured performances, among other venues, at the Albuquerque Spoken Word Festival during the National Poetry Slam, in 2003 she hosted and performed weekly at a poetry and music open mic called Sing Your Life, starting in 2002 she was a featured performer, doing quarterly performance art shows with readings, music and images, in 2005 she started monthly iPodCasts and an Internet radio station of her work,
    or (g) all of the above.
    When doing all of that didn’t work, Janet decided to quit her job and travel around the United States and Mexico, writing travel journals (collected into a book called Changing Gears) and starting her first epic novel (The Key To Believing). She also released a final collection of poetry called Oeuvre, a final collection of prose called Exaro Versus, and an art book called L’arte.
    But after that work wasn’t enough, she thought she would try to get her life back into order by moving across the country once or twice, getting married and getting a house with fireplaces, a jacuzzi and a sauna. After venturing to Puerto Rico, to nine European countries (Germany, Austria, Italy, the Vatican City, France, Belgium, the Netherlands, Luxembourg and Switzerland), and to China (Shanghai and Beijing), Kuypers thought she would (because she’s psycho on never being at rest) do more design work, master compact discs and Performance Art shows in Chicago, and yes, have more books of hers published. Doesn’t she know how to rest?