Since SHS 69, Judith attended Syracuse U and the San Francisco Art Institute for a BFA. Eventually she attended California Institute of Integral Studies and pursued the MA program in Somatic Psychology (originally at Antioch Un in San Francisco).  She lived some time in rural Oregon, until she moved to Seattle where I have lived ever since, in private practice as an advanced- level Feldenkrais and CranioSacral Practitioner. 
She urges us to read the book as it tells (almost) all.

Launch date late September, available from me now and late Amazon and elsewhere.

My eyes were red glasses but I could never remove them to clean them:  
always blurry, dusty, always red walls well, pink actually, red tinged faces. I think about the phrase “seeing red “ , but I wasn’t angry. I actually didn’t even realize anything much was abnormal. Well except for the hospital location. I had never been a patient in a hospital before. Let alone in intensive care. I had always been the one to visit people in the hospital and perhaps bring them flowers or give them a treatment to facilitate their recovery. Now the abnormal part was that I was the patient. Except for that I really didnt understand how very serious it all was. All I saw was a plain simple red rosy hospital world. I saw red only when my sore dry dusty eyes were open which wasn’t very often.  the blood from the cerebral aneurysm had traveled down the optic nerve kind of like the time my skylight leaked but all that  showed up was a drip from a faraway light bulb in the closet, a puddle on the closet floor, the rainwater traveling all the way to the closet, slithering along an electric wire red blood dripping along the optic nerve. The opthalmic specialists came around once a day and shined lights and clucked and whispered like a flock of chickens about the condition of my eyes and possible future surgeries.  

I cringed and made the hex sign, two index fingers crossed  in front of my heart to ward them off: no more surgeries ever for me! One brain aneurysm was enough!  This was  my life in the trauma center, the top trauma center in the Pacific Northwest, the psycho- neurological intensive care trauma center of  Harborview Medical Center where I couldn’t view the harbor because of my injured eyes and brain. I could only hear the helicopters carrying more trauma patients and landing noisily outside my window many, too many, times a day. I was grateful I didn’t arrive at the intensive care unit in a helicopter. I came on the ground in an ambulance. somehow that seemed less traumatic even though I dont remember that either.  I was grateful I could see my red friends and red  loved ones and know from the sounds that this was indeed a very intense place. That even so I was okay. That I was going to be okay.