Day 139 “The Sovereign”

While Thor recovered from his fifth surgery, I returned home for a short respite.  Thinking I could catch up with sleep and household chores, I welcomed the break.
I looked forward to some ‘me’ time.

What I encountered instead was a tsunami of emotions – anger, grief, disbelief, desperation, and depression, among others.  Caught off guard, I fought to keep them under control, distracting myself with mundane activities, trying to run from feeling.

I called up any available friends, and when that failed, I collapsed into myself.

What I couldn’t shake was the idea that my depressed state was completely selfish.  The voice in my head said:  “You have nothing to be upset about”, and I agreed.  It was Thor who was in hospital and who would have to endure more procedures.  It was Thor who was living through pain and myriad doses of medication.  My job was to support him, and in my current state of emotions, I felt ill-equipped to do that.

Derek Lin suggests that we have power over ourselves, as our own sovereign.  He suggests that when depression sets in we have to “(r)ewrite the meaning of the event.”

It will take me some time to work through this possibility.  What I feel now is compounded not only by the reality we face, but also the extensive guilt that overwhelms me.  My anxiety has clouded my ability to think clearly and cope with everyday tasks, sapping great amounts of energy, and as a result, I am off work.  I am not accomplishing the things that I believe I should be able to do.

Thor will be having surgery number six before I am able to bring him home again.  In that time, I need to find a constructive way to deal with my emotions.  He doesn’t deserve, nor should he have to feel responsible for my emotional turmoil.

 

 

Day 138 “Cloud Hands”

Cloud Hands, Derek Lin explains in The Tao of Joy Every Day, is a tai chi technique which represents the proper way to deal with confrontation – with “softness and deflection”.

Today’s reflection brings to mind a funny story about Thor, who I consider to be an expert at diffusing and managing difficult situations.

My eldest daughter, Marie, lived in a cheap basement apartment during her last year of college.  The building was not well maintained, and the landlord was haphazard about paying the utility bills.  As a consequence,  Marie and her roommate came home twice to discover that the hydro had been shut off and the food in their fridge was ruined.  To complicate things further, the heat was shut off in the midst of a cold snap, and the two girls were beside themselves.  They refused to pay any more rent until the situation was resolved.

Thor advised the girls to take the matter to court, and allow a judge to decide how they should proceed.  He and I were dating at this point, and Marie did not know him very well.  He offered to accompany the two young women, which they readily accepted.

Mid-morning I got a frantic phone call from my daughter.  “Mom,”  she blurted.  “I think Thor is about to beat up my landlord!”

I could not imagine Thor beating anyone up, so I asked her to explain further.

“When we got to court, it turns out that Thor knows our landlord.  They exchanged a few words, and then Thor asked him to step outside so they could settle it.  He’s going to beat him up!  What should I do!”

“Calm down, Marie.”  I assured her.  “I am pretty sure he is not the fighting type.”

“Mom, you are not here!  You didn’t hear it!”

“I know, Honey, but I know Thor.  There is some misunderstanding.  Call me back when you know what is going on.”

I hung up, wondering.  “Step outside and we’ll settle this” is an invitation to fight; had I misjudged Thor?

Thor himself called me when it was all over.  “Everything is settled,”  he said.  “The girls will be reimbursed for groceries lost, and he is giving them a break on the rent.”

“Ah, Thor, how did you get him to agree to all this?”

“When we got to court, I recognized John immediately.  I didn’t know he was their landlord.  I knew John and I could sort it out; we didn’t need the court process, so I asked him to step outside….what’s so funny.”

“When Marie heard you say “Let’s step outside and settle this”, she thought you were going to beat him up.”

Thor joined in with my laughter, as did Marie when we explained it.

“Violence doesn’t solve anything, Sweetie.”  Thor told Marie.  “It only compounds the problem.  I really just wanted to step outside and settle the issue. And that’s what we did.  Reasonably, as two adults can.”

 

 

 

Day 136 “The Strong Wind”

Thor and I were attempting to settle into sleep the other night when he mentioned that his back was hurting.  As I applied ointment to soothe his aches, I noticed that he was quite warm.  Despite the antibiotics, he had spiked a fever.

We contacted the doctor and made our way back to hospital, where Thor has just undergone his fifth surgery in five months.  Unbelievable!

As if battling cancer, then a torn quad, is not enough, Thor will now have to do battle with this insistent infection.  In the next little while he will need surgery again to close up the wound, and likely again when he gets transferred to another hospital where they specialize in wound care.

It feels as if Thor and I are currently living inside a little bubble which exists alongside the rest of reality, but is not part of it.  People come and go within the bubble, however, Thor and I are the only ones who have to live it and face it every day.  Even I cannot begin to understand what must be going through Thor’s heart and mind.

I do know this: Both of us are exhausted and discouraged.   There is some situational depression, many tears, and bouts of anxiety.  There is anger and frustration.  There is never a thought of giving up.

I also know this:  We are doing everything that we can to seek professional help and take care of ourselves.  It isn’t always perfect, and no doubt there is always another way, but we are coping.

While we are grateful for the many heartfelt expressions of caring, I ask that everyone remember our bubble, and picture how fragile and vulnerable is to be existing like this right now.  Let us know that you care, but please do so gently.

Be the whispering breeze that soothes us, not the strong wind.

 

 

 

Day 134 “The Illusion”

Today’s reflection offers a formula:  Estimate the number of years you have left, subtract a third for sleep, and another third for eating and working, and that is the time you have left to accomplish something.

I have 11 years, providing I live to 88.

Hmmmm!

Day 133: “Dynamic Exchange”

Daylight beckons me to stir out of my bed, but a relentless heaviness drags me under into the realm of sleep and dreaming.

The path I walk on is covered by water, like a shallow trough. It is a gray, overcast day.  To my right the landscape drops off revealing a large body of water below, which flows beneath the place we stand.  We must be on a bridge, I think.   A female companion walks just before me, oblivious to our surroundings, but me, I am captivated by the movement of snakes in the water below.  “Look!” I exclaim.  “Look at how magnificently they navigate the water.”  We both stop to look as a long, earthen-toned snake effortlessly glides side to side passing beneath us.   Relieved to view them from a distance,  I suddenly notice movement in my peripheral vision:  a large water snake is headed our way, its head poised as if to strike.   How can this be?  The water here is very shallow.  I alert my friend and step out of the water onto the muddy bank to the left.  The ground here is steep, with patchy clumps of overgrown coarse grass.  I step carefully to get a good footing hoping the snake will not follow me on land.  It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, but when they do, I see that an even larger, earth-coloured snake is coiled  in a shallow hollow only a step away from where I am.  I try to warn my friend,  but am too late.  She jumps out of the water and throws herself directly into the mushy mass of snake.  “Back up carefully,” I warn her, trying to discern the head of the snake in this enormous coil.  “But try to move quickly.”  The large mass slowly comes to life, shifting its weight, readying for movement.

Startled, I awaken.  Not again!

I have dreamt of snakes frequently over the past several months, each one prefacing change within our lives.  I have come to dread their appearance.  But these snakes are different, not the bright coloured greens, reds, or blues of previous dreams.  These blend into their surroundings, natural components of a larger ecosystem.

I wonder what message they bring.  And who is the woman that accompanies?  I decide to let her speak:

As I trudge along the shallow waterway, I see only miles of barren, grey landscape before me.  Something looms in the far distance, be it denser, black clouds, or mountains, I cannot tell: the greyness of this day offers no light for clarification.  The water at my feet is not cold, despite the lack of sunshine, nor are there rocks to heed my pace; it simply appears that the path has recently filled with water that otherwise wouldn’t belong here.  The passageway is narrow, and doesn’t offer any apparent alternative routes, so we carry on, carefully making our way.  The woman who follows me is distracted, lacking intent, and I am afraid she is going to hinder our progress.  She stops to observe snakes that swim in the waters far below us.  This has once been an old train trestle, I believe, a passage carved in the side of this hill, overlooking an expanse of inland water.  The scene might be beautiful on another day, but the land has not yet recovered from the harsh winter, and the landscape appears battered, with only dried up stumps of what was greenery in a better time.  I observe the snakes and wonder at her fascination.  Does she not share my desire to be clear of this place; to move on?  I sigh.  Suddenly, she warns me of a snake approaching.  Instinctively, I leap from the water and throw myself on the earth beside me.  I land not on solid ground, but on a warm, springy mass, that first recedes, then expands, repelling me.  I hear the warning:  Move cautiously, and scramble to gain my footing, horrified that I have met my doom.  Is this how it will all end? 

 

Maybe we need to let the snake speak:

I am as old as all time, and I have grown and grown over the years, until my size has become legendary.  Some think me lazy.  Others run in very fear of my physical enormity.  Few know me well.  When times get hard, I curl myself up and sleep it off.  Not much you can do to change things, I’ve learned, so why try to fight.  Just go with it.  Curl up, and wait for a new day to dawn.  Detached inaction, I call it.  This certain kind of grayness that lingers in the air is one of those times.  That sky is one endless huddle of clouds, obliterating the sun and any hope of a clear day.  I have dug myself a nice comfortable hollow in which to coil up for a long rest.  Or at least, that is what I thought, until some out-of-control woman, bent on some foolish mission, comes along and disrupts my sleep!  Scared herself silly – so silly, she didn’t even see me lying there.  Now, I know I am fairly well camouflaged – and that has helped me survive for so long, no doubt – but there ain’t no mistaking my massive curves, if you’re paying attention.  I know I am slow to react, and like to just let things roll  off my back, but this woman got to me.  The full of weight of her jumped on my sleeping back, and I am not taking that lightly.  I need to get  a look at this disturbance.  I blow myself up to full size, pushing her off me, and begin to stretch.  Ohhhh that feels good – the first stretch of the day, coming out of a long slumber.  I stretch and breath in a long, satisfying inhale, waking up each and every fiber of my inner strength.  I unwind, raising my head and opening my eyes.  Two women are beside me, or should I say, besides themselves.  One, the perpetrator, is struggling to regain composure.  The other carefully stepping out of my way.  “Hello Ladiesss”, I say, disarming them yet again.

“So sorry,” the clumsy one mutters.  “Didn’t mean any harm, really.”

I see the head of another snake go slithering by, laughing, and realize that he has been the culprit.  “Ssstartled, were you?” I ask.

“What?  Oh, yes!”  Then the inevitable:  “You talk!”

“Well, yesss, I do.  Sssshould we wassste time on that?”

“Oh no!”  exclaims the other.  ” Not at all.  We are very sorry to have disturbed you.  Can we ask you a few questions?”

“Give it a ssshot,”  I hiss.

“First off, where are we?  Is it always so glum?”

“Ahh, yes….glum.  Well, not always, no.  Recently, certainly.”  I ponder the first question.  “Where are we?  Well only one answer to that:  Where aren’t we?”

“I don’t understand.”  The fallen woman seemed to be regaining her composure.

“It’s a riddle,” said the other.  “She speaks in riddles.”

Clever girl, I think to myself.

“But why?  What is the point in that?”

“You are my practical side, aren’t you?” the clever woman addresses the other.  “You are the one that keeps moving even when there is no apparent direction and all looks hopeless.”

“Well….yes.  What else would you want me to do? Sit down in the muck and let it overwhelm me?”

“It’s not ssso bad asss that,” I offer.  “I wasss quite comfortable before you two came along.”

They both look at me.

“Are you going to eat us?”  The practical one asks.

I guffaw.  “Terrorize you maybe, but eat you never.  You are too full of poison and toxinsss for my liking.”

“We’re what?”

“She’s talking about your diet.  We have been eating a lot of junk recently.”

The practical ones just nods.

“Pretty hard to terrorize now that you’ve spoken to us, though,”  the clever one offers.  “What are you doing here?”

“Been here forever,”  I glibly respond.  “Question should be:  what are you doing here?”

“Things are not going well for us.”  Practical One states.

“I have been struggling with anxiety and depression,”  the other offers.  “We have been trying for quite a while to stay on the straight and narrow, but I just couldn’t do it anymore.  Too much uncertainty.”

“So she brought us here,”  Practical add defiantly.

“Look, I know you are disappointed, but I have limits.  What was the point to pushing on anyways?”

“Ladiessss, I ssee your dilemma.  One of you jussst wantsss to maintain the ssstatusss quo, while the other wantsss change.”  Their glances tell me I’m on the right track.

“Do you know how many times she has stepped off the path?”  Practical sounds more venomous then I ever have.  “She is always changing her mind, taking us on side trips, losing her perspective.  She would rather we live our life unpredictably, without security and reliability.  Can you imagine what others think of us?”

“And I think your narrow-mindedness and conventionality has led us astray.  What if we are missing out on our true life purpose?  What if all this catering to norms is making us miss our calling?  Maybe we’re not meant to conform.”

“That sounds like a cop out to me!  What are you afraid of?”

“I’m afraid of living life to someone else’s drumbeat, not my own.  I am afraid of never really living out my potential, out of fear that it might not please others.  Who cares what others think?”

“You are missing my point!”

“Which is?”

“That a certain amount of conformity is necessary for survival.  If we don’t keep trucking, this place is all we are ever going to know.  We’ll get stuck here.  How depressing would that be?”

“So what would you have us do instead.  The same thing over and over, hoping someday it will produce a different outcome?  That is the definition of insanity.”

“Ahem!”  I cough, trying to get their attention.  “First off, thiss isss not just somewhere, it is where you are right now.  It isss your life.  Now, you can argue and over-think it, or you can try and flee it, but you cannot esssscape it.  Best to ssstart to live it.”

“Easy for you to say, no offense, but you are a snake.”

“And a dream figure at that.”

“Point taken.  A sssnake that hass been around for a long time.   A ssurvivor, you might ssay.”

The clever one’s eyes narrow.  “Do I know you?”

“Maybe,”  I respond coyly.

“A survivor, you say?”

“That’sss right.”

“Were you there when I had that accident at nine?”

“Maybe.”

“And when I fell off that horse at fourteen and was bedridden for a week?”

“Perhapssss.”

“And that time I was abducted and raped.  Were you curled up with me in the corner?”

“Even sssooo!”

“I know you! You are my inner strength!  I wondered where you’ve been hiding.”

“Oh, never hiding, my dear girl, I can asssure you.  Sssleeping ssssometimes, but never far away.”

“Will we get through this?”  Practical One wants to know.

“Of courssse we will,”  I state with confidence.  “We’ve got through everything elsssse.”

 

 

 

 

 

Day 132 “Creativity of the Tao”

“The world works in mysterious ways,”  my father used to say to me.  “It’s wonders never cease.”

I forget sometimes that life is a mystery.  I forget that there is an underlying force that weaves its way through our lives and creates a tapestry of meaning.  A Universe of order and compassion, Dora Kunz* calls it.

Thor has just had his fourth surgery since January.  His ability to heal is severely compromised.  I worry for him.  He feels as if he is just watching one marble after another drop in his life, falling to its fate:  out of control.

I, in the meantime, am losing my marbles.  I try to carry on as if everything is normal, and push through the anxiety, but every part of me resists.  My body rebels against my rational thoughts and proclaims its dominance.  In moments, I feel calm, reassured, but then I leave the house and my chest contracts, squeezing the breath out of me, and my heart races, fatiguing me greatly.  I want to lie down and wake up to a new reality.

There is no other reality.

This is our life.

If I can find faith, I will remember that this is just one more creative process in the greater scheme of things.  One of life’s mysteries.

*Co-founder of therapeutic touch.

Day 131 “Desires”

Thor has just undergone a third surgery to his knee to remove infection.  After yet another week of IV antibiotics, the doctor is threatening a fourth surgery next week if the healing does not progress.  Compromised by his cancer and the radiation treatments, it feels as if he is scaling a steep, and dangerous, cliff wall.

What we desire right now is relief:  a sign that things are turning around and that a return to health is imminent.

There are no worldly things that can calm the anxiety of uncertainty.  Even our summer travel plans, which had previously given us something to look forward to, are now cancelled.  Life is on hold.

The kindness of friends brings reassurance and warmth, but the reality still looms, stifling.

Rationally, I know that grief has many stages and that bargaining is just one of them, however, that is exactly what I want to do:  negotiate.  I want to make a deal with God that I will give up all my material wealth if only He will promise me that my husband will be well.

It is a desperate and hollow plea.

Instead, I must find inside myself the courage and strength to carry on.   Surrendering to  fear is not an option – my husband deserves more than that.   Fiercely, I must attack this enemy with all the love and compassion that I possess.

It is all that matters right now.

 

Day 130 “Inner Silence”

The thoughts inside my head are debilitating right now, paralyzing me.  There is no silence, only a constant swirling of I should, what if, how, why, and don’t forget to……. 

There is no progress amidst all this noise.  Life is too in my face at the moment, and I feel like I can’t breathe.

I used to know how to do this:  feet on the floor, breathe deeply.

A vision of my husband, recovering from yet another surgery floats into my mind, and with it emotional panic.  I can’t help him like this, I remind myself.

And breathe again.

The clutter of the house closes in around me.  I have let things go.

The more the mind races, the less you get done…..I know, I know…..

Breathe.  Find your quiet place.  Let the extraneous go, for this moment, in this moment.  Breathe.

My chest expands, pushing through the tightness that has resided there these past months.  I follow the breath deeper, into my belly, reconnect with my core strength.  Surrender to stillness….

The sound of my breath, my heart beating, and the safety of a vast inner nothingness…..

Suspended consciousness….

ecstatic….

I float…..

ahhhhh……..

peace.

 

Day 128 “Gratitude”

Thor has fallen again.  It seems impossible to fathom, but there it is.  Ten months into his healing, he has re-injured his leg, requiring surgery once again. The damage is more extensive this time, and will take longer to mend.

My husband is angry and discouraged by this recent setback, and I cannot fault him.  He rallied through seven weeks of radiation, and maintained a positive attitude through the first surgery, but this time he is not bouncing back.  Everything he does seems to tire him.

As a caregiver, I too am exhausted.  This time has been emotionally, as well as physically, draining.  With the diagnosis of cancer, the doctors had warned us that our quality of life would change, but we could not have imagined this.

Yet, as I drag myself through the extra responsibilities that I have right now, I cannot help but recognize the gift that my husband has been in my life.   With each passing day, my gratitude deepens.

Thor is normally a high energy man, who unassumingly takes on many tasks.  He gets groceries, helps out in the house, and thoughtfully makes a point of showing he cares.  He has been a rock for our children, and tirelessly fights for justice for the many people who employ him.  He asks for little in return.

I realize now how much Thor does for all the people around him and hope that the little I am able to give back right now suitably expresses my gratitude to this wonderful man.

Day 127 “True Character”

Surrounded by family, friends, and the nursing staff, Thor hit the gong to signal his last radiation treatment on December 24th, then came to celebrate Christmas as usual.

Three days later, as I was leaving a gathering with some friends, my right foot hit ice, sliding out from under me, and sending me crashing to the ground.   My hip, then elbow, slammed into the solid ice and I writhed with pain, before willing myself to get up again.  Nothing was broken, but I had some work to do to heal.

A week later, as I was on my way to my first therapy treatment, I received a text from Thor:  I am trying to crawl up the stairs.

I stared at the phone, trying to make sense of the words.  Thor had fallen down the stairs and knew that the damage was serious.  He would need me to take him to emergency.

I couldn’t believe it.  As if he hadn’t already been through enough!  I rushed to the house, only to find him sitting in a chair, pale and clammy.  He had crawled up the stairs and onto the chair.

“It’s my quad tendon,”  he said. ” I’ll need surgery. ”

Now, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it, but Thor is considerably larger than I am.  Getting him up and out of the house was posing a problem.  I found  crutches, and he got to the doorway, but our threshold is aluminum – as in slippery – and then there are two steps down.  In silence, we both looked at this obstacle and mentally noted the current impossibility of navigating it.

“What if we try a chair?” I offered.

It didn’t work.

“Get a cardboard box,”  Thor suggested.  “Flatten it and I’ll slide down.”

And that is what he did – down the porch steps, off the porch and across the snow covered lawn!

“You should video this,”  he kept repeating.

I was too concerned about his well being to comply.

He slid himself right to the door of our Crossover, and faced his next challenge.  I ran inside to see if I could find something to help.  When I returned, Thor was seated in the passenger side.  He’d pulled himself up.

Thor didn’t complain once through the whole ordeal.  He joked with the nurses before and after surgery, and nodded with acceptance as the doctor told him that it would be a good six months to a year for this type of injury to heal, and that he would not be able to drive for at least a month.

I looked at my husband and wondered about the unfairness of it all.  Here he was, immune compromised from the radiation, immobilized by the recent injury, and dependent on a wife who was also physically compromised.  Despite my best efforts, I burst into tears.

“How will we manage?”  I cried.

“Ah Honey,”  Thor softly reassured me.  “We’ll make it work.”

I don’t have the confidence about life that my husband has, but he was right.  It did all work out.  He is driving again, and with steely determination his life goes on.  Not much stops him.

And through it all, I learned more about the man that I love.

Thor has always told me that “what you see is what you get”, and now I understand.  Even under immense duress, Thor is still a rock.

And, I hate to say it, but he was right:  I should have videotaped the episode!