#kalbe

[kabartangsel]

Kalbe Komitmen Terhadap Keamanan & Mutu Produk Tertinggi untuk Anak Indonesia

Mengoptimalkan tumbuh kembang anak, dimana salah satunya melalui pemilihan nutrisi yang tepat, memang bukan perkara mudah bagi setiap orang tua. Hal yang selalu jadi concern orang tua adalah keamanan dan kualitas produk nutrisi yang dibutuhkan untuk menopang tumbuh kembang anak. Tentunya untuk mendapatkan kedua hal tersebut, produk nutrisi perlu melalui proses produksi di fasilitas yang inovatif…

[boerdebehoerde]

Auf nach Kalbe (Milde)

Kalbe (Milde) hieß bis 1952 “Calbe an der Milde”. Unglaublich, aber wahr! Im “staatlich anerkannten Erholungsort im Altmarkkreis Salzwedel in Sachsen-Anhalt” spielen die Herrschaften von PEPPONE morgen im Unordnungsamt. Und zwar zusammen mit den herrlichen Herrschaften von Nopedose und der aufstrebenden Nachwuchskapelle Ben Racken… Kommt vorbei, die Boys haben eine astreine Setlist vorbereitet ……

[frances-baby-houseman]

I would have bled out in the parking lot

Amber Nicole Thurman's death is on Trump's hands

Bess Kalb

Sep 17

In 2019, about six weeks after my first child was born, I found myself on the bathroom floor in a small, but nonetheless unsettling puddle of blood.

“Oh no,” I remember thinking. “I just did the laundry.”

I called out my husband’s name, but the sound caught in my throat. The pain I felt inhaling to get enough air out of my lungs to yell the two syllables in “Char-lie” jabbed my guts like a bicycle spoke to the abdomen.

So I was quiet, trying to keep breathing in a way that didn’t move anything inside me, and the pain pulsed a bit, then steadied, then dulled, then evaporated into whatever hell ether it came from.

Because there is no G-d (unless there is, in which case I abbreviated His name so as not to desecrate it, and also thank you, King of the Universe, for subscribing to this newsletter) this was the one time in my life I hadn’t brought my phone with me to the bathroom.

I decided to sort of slither-lumber to the door like a lame harbor seal, because I didn’t want to stand and loosen the spoke that had just stabbed me. I reached for the knob and let the door creak open.

The cat was there, looking at me right at eye level, keenly aware what was happening, and completely unmoved by it.

“You are dying,” he blinked, “Pity. Have a nice time.” He sashayed away.

Fortunately, our house in Los Angeles was small enough that from the bathroom door one could see everything. My husband was sitting on the couch with our infant, and I knocked on the open door to summon him. Within one one thousandth of a second, he set the baby on the (since-recalled) donut pillow and was holding my head.

I sat up. I breathed. No pain. I took a picture of the bloody mess on my husband’s phone, texted it to myself, he found my phone, then I texted the picture to my OBGYN.

Apologies for being graphic, but within the puddle there was something roughly the size and shape and color of a fig.

“Is this ok?” I said to my doctor, the bicycle spoke scraping lightly at my insides again from all the lumbering.

“Come in,” she replied.

Within two hours, I was in the waiting room of her office, accompanied by my terrified but SMILING mother, who was still, as is the Jewish custom, in town for “a few days or so” after the birth.

An ultrasound which felt like the finger of Satan himself revealed there was retained placenta in my uterus. If I hadn’t come in, there would have been more hemorrhaging, then sepsis, then whatever the cat foretold.

The next day, I was in surgery getting a Dilation and Curettage.

I went home, pumped the anesthesia milk, then fell asleep perfectly fine, my sweet newborn cooing merrily in the bassinet next to his alive mother.

Amber Nicole Thurman’s story was the same as mine, but it happened to her in Georgia in 2024, not California in 2019. She was a Black woman in a healthcare system that disproportionately kills Black women, especially postpartum. In 2021, the Black maternal mortality rate was nearly three times the rate it is for white women. Post-Roe, the toll is and will continue to be staggering.

Because post-Roe, the procedure that saved my life, the D&C, is something doctors cannot perform in states where matters of life and death have been left up to non-medical Christian-supremacist superstitions.

I know the pain Amber Thurman felt when that placenta dislodged and carved its tiny, treacherous hole in her uterine wall. I know the terror she felt when she saw the blood, and the rush of dread when she thought of what her child would do without her.

And when I vote in November for Kamala Harris and every progressive down-ballot candidate, I will do it because she can’t. And I will do it so that women in Georgia and Idaho and Texas and North Dakota and South Dakota and Utah, Arizona, Nebraska Iowa, Missouri, Arkansas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Tennessee, Kentucky, Indiana, Florida, South Carolina, and West Virginia won’t have to meet the same completely preventable doom.

This election isn’t just about Amber Thurman. Every day of my lucky, breathing life is about Amber Thurman. Because the only thing that separates us, is one of us bled out under the right Supreme Court.

Let’s raise absolute federal hell about it.

-- From Bess Kalb's newsletter The Grudge Report. I pay for this substack -- though it's free-- and think this is a message worth sharing far beyond her newsletter.

[selin-n]

"Bana öldü demeyin, yoruldu gitti deyin...” 

Demişti Neşet Ertaş, evet yoruldu gitti bu hayattan___şimdi dinleniyor__🥀🍂

Nurlar içinde uyu____🥀🥀

Senin için türkü gözlüm____💙🦋

O'kendini biliyor___//🪕🪕🎶🎵

Kalpten kalbe bir yol vardır

Gözünen görünmez sırdır

İkimizin kalbi birdir

Sen benimsin ben seninim__💙🦋

[terminusantequem]

Javier Arizmendi-Kalb (Mexican, b. 1960s), Philodendron, 2021. Oil on canvas, 72 x 60 in

[kalbe-dusen-damlalar]

En çok sesini duyurmak istediğin en sağır yer olur, en çok koşmak istediğin varılmaz yol olur, en çok sığınmak istediğin yer hicranın olur. Çünkü burası dünya, neyi çok istersen hep onunla sınanırsın. O yüzdendir ki dünya hep yarım kalmış şeylerin yeridir, gurbetimiz bundandır..."

[teselli-ikalb]

"tam düşecekken tutunduğum tuğlayı

kendime rabb bellemeyeceğim."

İsmet Özel

[monaliza08]

"Sevgisizlik yük olurmuş insana."

[unteriors]

Martin Luther King Drive, De Kalb, Texas.

[kalbenli]

İnsan ;

kırılıp incinmelerini toplayıp onlardan suskunluk yapıyor . . .

[random-brushstrokes]

Friedrich Kalb (German, 1889-1977) - Sleeping Woman

[yakazakalb]

”ولعلَّ رزقك في لين قلبكَ.”

Belki de senin rızkın, kalbinin yumuşaklığıdır.

.

[jupiterliyazar]

“Şartlar ne olursa olsun, yan yana geldiğinde ruhunun huzur bulduğu insanla gönülden gönüle bağlısındır…”

[reh-numa]

[selin-n]

Der ki Neşet Ertaş___//

"Kalpten kalbe bir yol vardır"💙🟰💙

Yokmuş aslında___))

Bunu öğrendim___//💙

""Rabbim...

Öğrendim ki yaşamak,

Acının ölçüsünden geçerken,

Rahmet yağmurlarında ıslanmaktı.

Allah'ım...

İmtihan yollarında yürürken,

Ruhunun üstünde,

Şemsiyelerle gezinenlerden,

Ve rahmetinden

Ümit kesenlerden olmaktan

SANA SIĞINIRIM.....""

AMİN...

[terminusantequem]

Javier Arizmendi-Kalb (Mexican, b. 1960s), RED RAIN, 2019. Oil on canvas, 72 x 72 in.