Soften, soothe, allow

The day of my first chemo treatment, and the first few days after that, went quite smoothly.  I followed the instructions, took the anti-nausea drugs, and felt more of the emotional trauma than the physical trauma.  Yesterday, Sunday afternoon of day 4, I started to feel more of the effects of the chemo.  I simply felt rough.  Tired, achy and weak.  Afternoon through evening I ran a low-grade fever – hovering around 99.4 most of the time.  I had the oncologist on-call, give me a call, since any fever can be worrisome during chemotherapy.  He told me to just watch it, and if it went above 100 to head to the Emergency Room.  It never did, and so far today (day 5) there is no sign of any fever. 

A week ago, when I went to Rochester Mayo for the second opinion, I took part in a guided meditation offered to everyone in the waiting room.  There were at least 50 people in the waiting room, and three (a couple and me) of us followed the gentleman offering the meditation into the small classroom.  The man leading the meditation was one of the full-time chaplains at Mayo, and he had a lovely comforting voice.  I had the idea he was just reading a meditation that someone else had written, but that was okay.  It worked for me. 

He guided us to first find the spots where we were feeling tight and hard, and directed us to breath into those places and find the softness.  A simple, straightforward instruction that proved oh so hard to do.  Fear and anxiety seem to direct the body to “cast” itself – to make it immobile.  

The instructions then guided us to think of ways to soothe ourselves, encouraging us to place a hand near or on the area with cancer and essentially say, “there, there, this is going to be okay.” And the final section, counseled us to allow ourselves to feel whatever feelings we were experiencing.  Not to necessarily dwell there, but to acknowledge the feeling, allow it to be and then move on. 

It was a simple format, and I have found it useful in the days that followed.  This morning, for whatever reason, I am feeling more overwhelmed by my feelings.  Mostly I feel vulnerable and sad. I have experienced such a huge range of emotions ever since I began this journey in January.  More have been in the realm of fear and anger so the sadness I am experiencing feels different. 

The day I was at Rochester Mayo for the second opinion, was also the day of the Boston Marathon and the bombings.  A day or two later, writer Anne Lamott wrote a beautiful post that began by quoting theologian Frederick Buechner.  "Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don't be afraid."

But it is hard not to be afraid, isn't it? Some wisdom traditions say that you can't have love and fear at the same time, but I beg to differ. You can be a passionate believer in God, in Goodness, in Divine Mind, and the immortality of the soul, and still be afraid. I'm Exhibit A.

The temptation is to say,  . . ., Oh, it will all make sense someday. Great blessings will arise from the tragedy, seeds of new life sown. And I absolutely believe those things, but if it minimizes the terror, it's bullshit.

Lamott goes on to say, There is amazing love and grace in people's response to the killings. It's like white blood cells pouring in to surround and heal the infection. It just breaks your heart every time, in the good way, where Hope tiptoes in to peer around. For the time being, I am not going to pretend to be spiritually more evolved than I am. I'm keeping things very simple: right foot, left foot, right foot, breathe; telling my stories, and reading yours. I keep thinking about Barry Lopez's wonderful line, "Everyone is held together with stories. That is all that is holding us together; stories and compassion."

I love Lamott’s writing on so many levels.  Right now I am just trying to follow her lead and keep things simple: right foot, left foot, right foot, breathe.  But there are moments in these current days when I can’t even do the right foot, left foot part of the equation.  I can only wrap up in warm and cosy clothing, and focus on the breathing part.  Today is one of those days.