Yesterday I rose like a phoenix out of my bed where I had spent every possible second for the previous 24 hours with the very strong intention to go to a relaxation session at Callanish. I had intended to go to there on Wednesday but just did not have the oomph to get up, get dressed, get in my car and go relax.
I got to see two of the other women who had been on retreat with me, some of the core Callanish team and met other wonderful women. A phenomenal voice and sound improvisor Laurel Murphy (http://www.laurelmurphy.com/bio.html) was there to add an fabulous aural element to the relaxation.
Laying on a mat of the floor, tucked in with a cosy blankie, I closed my eyes and relaxed my body, ready to drift off into a deeply relaxed place...
when I noticed that that my chest was constricting and was painful and that my arms were tingling and so were the tops of my feet. Breathe in....relax....listen to Janie and Laurel's voices, the sounds of the bells...oh my god, it's neuropathy...aahhh, relax...use this time...pay attention to the voices...relax....I'm hooped!...relax...breath in....deep breath out...I can't feel my feet....metta...so, so beautiful...heart opening...my heart hurts...loving kindness...yessss...for all beings...stop being so self-centred...this is no big deal...such a safe place...such radiant, alive women.
The session ends with some discussion, an honouring of the amazing space that was created by Laurel and Janie and Gretchen and then I kicked into extroverted Zoё mode, completely forgetting about the physical symptoms that I had just been experiencing.
I got into the car and had the thought that I had been acting like someone on some kind of "upper," that I was running on adrenaline as opposed to actually available energy and I had a very strong sense that I was headed for a big crash.
It was a gorgeous sunny day and normally I would have taken my lunch and eaten it outside to have a sunbath before having a nap but I was too tired. I took the food upstairs. took a few bites and decided that I needed sleep even more than I needed food, having been awake since 3 am. I put on my eye patch and ear plugs and tried to sleep. I had closed the window to buffer the sound of the construction guys working on a major reno across the street. I was able to relax until another chapter of the book that seems to be wanting to be written popped into my head. Now I was fully awake...fueled by that delicious creative energy that so feeds me...and I sat up to add the new chapter title to the list.
I knew I needed to rest but that sleep was impossible so I called Kelly still laying in bed. We had one of our typical, juicy, hilarious conversations that involved a great deal of laughing, snorting, kid-discussing and new business idea brainstorming. Whilst talking to her I started to have a lot of tingling in both arms and mentioned it but continued with our conversation. As we went on I started to get really distracted by the body sensations and told Kelly that I needed to get off the phone and email my oncologist.
I emailed Karen Gelmon, telling her that I had just started having neuropathy symptoms (a common side effect of the Taxol) and asked her for tips, signing off as "slightly panicking jewellery designer."
I also did some "research" and managed to scare myself silly. Laying in bed, feeling like a chemo victim I tried to think of what I could do to take back control of my body. Suddenly it popped into my mind that I hadn't been doing my daily exercises--Tibetan Rites--since before I left on retreat. It took me a few minutes to psych myself up enough to get out of bed and pull out the mat. I did the exercises pretty well considering what shape I was in and that--yet again--I had not kept up with them, and noticed that while the sensations were still there, they were not as strong.
By this time, Charlotte was home from school and my Mama hat was on for the rest of the afternoon and evening. I went up to bed at about 7:30 pm, had my hour of laughter therapy (one episode of The Daily Show and one episode of the Colbert Report and then turned out the lights.
My head on the pillow, I was suddenly awash with such sorrow and overwhelm. Tears were gushing from my eyes, my throat constricted and I began to sob. My first thought was concern for Charlotte whose room is close to mine and I tried to stiffle the weeping. "This is just too much" was the thought. After chemo there had been the nausea (though so mitigated by the drugs), the searing back pain, the jaw pain, the upset stomach, the chills, they hadn't all come together and I had felt like I was doing fine. But now I was in the what-if hell realm. It wasn't that I was in excrutiating pain. I just had tingling and sensations of numbness. The now wasn't what was causing me such grief, it was the fact that peripheral neuropathy can be permanent and very drastically curtail the activities that one can do.
I grabbed the bead mala that I had made on retreat. We had done a powerful exercise the second day in which we reflected on times that we had had to be very resilient, to call on that part of ourselves that could overcome really big challenges. The idea was to select a bead to represent each of those instances or periods and we were given cord to string them in any way that we had wished. I held the mala in my hands and in the darkness felt the different beads and found the one that represented freedom from suffering. Just holding that bead calmed me down. I had a few more sob episodes but I chanted my way through them and feel asleep.
I woke up with a druggy hangover having taken two sleeping pills and some pain medication before bed and then with a big drink of water needed to take even more meds for my low thyroid. It was 5 am and I was happy that I would have time to drink my green tea, write, watch the sky go from pitch black to what is going to be a stellar sunny day. This writing is my therapy. It obligates me to pay attention and by writing frequently I can go back and remember various emotional and physical states that I pass through. It helps me to not feel at the effect of what is arising. I am an observer not a victim.
I'm so grateful that the sun rose today and I will rise too.
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