July 28: Letting go and letting in....

Yikes. Sorry, time has again gotten away from me.  But, happily, it's been all good!

Health:  The right chest continued to improve, feels pretty back to normal.  I've now discovered the joy of wearing casual pants and scrub tops to work and may never stop dressing like this on non-patient days!  The right shoulder continues to be an issue, unfortunately seems to be getting worse.  Starting to wonder if there is a rotator cuff issue going on, which probably had nothing at all to do with the bleed.  I'm back to walking when weather allows and doing a little yoga, although being very careful.  My Coumadin dose remains lower, and off the aspirin for a while. 

Did I mention that my cardiologist left his practice to move to Connecticut?  Tried another one.  Didn't like him at all.  Search continues.

Worked 40 hours this last week.  Tired, but functioning, although not super well it must be conceded.  It was early 2006 that I was put on part-time hours by Dr. Cohn and Brigham.  I still prefer not working one day a week, but doesn't everyone?!  Working this much wouldn't be possible if it wasn't all sitting down and just doing computer entry.  Charts now need to be done for four of the five doctors, so a challenge to keep up the pace.  On the huge bright side the increased hours = increased money and I paid off my HELOC 18 months sooner than I'd planned!  Such a relief.

So, the big thing coming up for July was the 5 year anniversary of the third (aka 'the LAST') surgery.  I didn't say a whole lot about it, because it needed to be an internal thing and I really didn't know how it would turn out.  This is the brief version (which, just to warn you, is still pretty long!):

A few months ago things were still bouncing back and forth in my mind, but I knew that the goal was to close the huge volume of my life that represented all three surgeries, that some sort of symbol of each needed to be released, heart-shaped images of some sort.  I'd eliminated sending up balloons (bad for the environment) or burning (too risky and didn't feel right).  In talking with my friend Eileen, herself a survivor of kidney cancer, she made the obvious suggestion of water, watching something I'd made wash away in a stream.  THAT sounded perfect: water is cleansing and healing; the idea of being able to watch the hearts disappear was highly therapeutic. 

Enter Michael.  Remember him?  The friend who ended up with heart surgery from a different congenital heart problem a couple years ago?   I reconnected with him and his wife Jenn and told them that I was trying to figure out exactly what to do on the 5 year anniversary to celebrate/mark/memorialize the occasion and was looking for a stream to drop some paper hearts into.  He responded 'What about the ocean?', to which I replied that it had never come up for consideration because I didn't have any way of getting out on the water.  His response was that he would come with me, rent a boat and I'd be able to 'do my thing' on a huge body of water instead of a stream, standing on a bridge with traffic. 

This was when I realized that the Universe/Spirits approved and wanted me to do this.  Because everything fell into place after that.

July 11th, the night before, I made three hearts out of red tissue paper and a lung out of white.  I'd researched on line and had ordered several herbs that are used in banishing rituals.  I then labeled each heart and drew the appropriate anatomical issue(s) associated with each surgery.   I put the herbs, along with an Apache tear (absorbs negativity), into the paper hearts, then sealed them each with Elmer's Glue (water soluble!).  They were done in order, and by the time I got to the lung one I was crying, remembering the pain of each, how each affected my life and hurt my Spirit.  My tears were literally in those heart 'packets' as I relived those horrible years.

July 12th was a Thursday, same as 2007, thanks to a couple leap years.  Michael & Jenn, who had both taken the day off, came and picked me up and off we went to Ocean City.  Michael had found a place to rent a pontoon boat and then go into the bay.  This was briefly a disappointment not being on the sea, but in reality so much better as there also weren't any currents to worry about.  The weather forecasts had said hot, humid and with thunderstorms, but everything cleared (gotta love Universe approval!) and when we went out at about 4:00 there were enough clouds to keep it from being too hot, low humidity and a lovely breeze.   There were also very few boats on the bay, so lots of privacy.

Once we found a good spot I got everything out, including tissues, and knelt at the side before the open swing door.  (Aside: even two years ago kneeling wouldn't have been possible as that made me too dizzy.)  I picked up the heart packet that was surgery #1 and held it between my hands.  I thought about the shock when I found out, gasping for breath as I deteriorated, finding out how much worse it was then initially thought, being told I had less than 2 months to live without the surgery, the incredible pain on waking, the heavy mental fog from having my heart stopped three times, the difficult recovery.  I channeled all that into the packet, and then threw it into the water.  The wind kept it from going too far away, and it took longer than I thought it would to sink, but within a couple minutes it disappeared from sight.

Next was #2, the relief of finding Drs. Cohn & Baughman, but also having to face a second open heart surgery in less than 2 years.  I channeled in all the pain and anger at the first surgeon, the recognition of how much my finances had deteriorated, feeling like a failure that I had to sell my house, the trauma of selling, renovating and moving.  And, when all that was in the second packet, then it got thrown in and sank.

The lung surgery, more anger, the excruciating pain that went on and on, the fatigue; again, all channeled into the white lung-shaped packet.  By this time I was sobbing and so hoping that neither Michael or Jenn would try and comfort me.  They clearly sensed, however, that this was something I needed to do without intrusion, and respected that.  Jenn was, at my request, taking pictures through the process.  I wasn't sure then if I would want to have a photo record, but figured they could always be thrown away later.  My face becomes more strained as the pictures go on, reflecting the inner agony. 

And then came #3, the worst of all.  By this point I could feel all the horror and pain going down my arms, into my hands and into that heart of paper and herbs and stones.  The packet began to feel heavy, becoming full of all the hurt and rage and pain and horror and disappointment and depression, during and after that surgery.   That heart started to burn in my hands, and when it did I threw it as hard and far as I possibly could, watching it sink and disappear into the depths of the water.  I felt the most wonderful feeling of release, watching as all that bad was banished forever, gone from my body and mind and Spirit.  I felt an inner sense of lightness and buoyancy immediately after that last heart hit the water, even before it completely sank.

Jenn snapped a picture as I looked up after that, and the only description that could apply to my expression would be radiant.  Not just happy, not just satisfied, not just joyful--although all of those things, but truly glowing and radiant.  While I knew this would be important to me, it was difficult to guess how it would really feel at the completion.  It was, honestly, beyond my expectations.  I can not get over just how much better I feel, what a huge difference it made.

I went into doing this ritual with one phrase going through my mind:  letting go.  I called it banishing, releasing, a couple other descriptive verbs along the way.  But it all boiled down to those two words;  I wanted to let go of all that pain, have it be behind me.  The last eight years aren't ever going to disappear, and, of course, the consequences are something I live with every day.  What happened affects how I react to things, my future, is an integral part of my psyche.  But the negative emotions associated with all of it were something that could be left behind, needed to be gone, in order for me to move on, to claim my future.  They served no purpose, they needed to be let go.  The timing seemed right: patients are considered cancer-free when they hit their five year mark.  While I'll never be cured in that way, I could declare myself healed.

The sun was setting, casting a stream of light across the water.  Michael had, at my request, brought champagne--it was his decision to bring a really, really good one!  We toasted and celebrated.  After returning the boat we drove to Brigantine to a fabulous little seafood joint, washed down with another bottle of good champagne.  (I never knew how well that bubbly stuff went with scallops!)  I'd said earlier in the day that if it was possible I really wanted to go on the beach, put my feet in the water and feel the pulse of the sea.  It wasn't looking do-able until we pulled up the restaurant, which Michael had found on line, only finding then that it happened to be less than a block away from a small path way leading to the beach.  And so I got to wiggle my toes in the sand as the ocean washed over me, feeling cleansed and even more joyous. 

Even having to go into work the next day didn't dull my glow much, although there was the hint of a hangover!   I'm still trying to find a way to thank Michael and Jenn, who were just the perfect people to accompany me on this journey.  Their help and planning allowed me to concentrate on the spiritual aspect, and their emotional support could not have been more perfect.

While I had to go into work on Saturday as well, it was with the knowledge that I was going to embark on something new that Sunday: my first time at UUMAC: Unitarian Universalist Mid-Atlantic Conference/Camp.  It was a fabulous week crammed with meeting new and wonderful people, singing, having deep existential conversations about the meaning of life, plus spiritual enrichment, my first time in a drumming circle and even a little dancing! 

In the space of about ten days, I let go of a lot of really bad crap and then got to fill those spaces with tons of joy.  I don't know if it would have been possible to be so open and receptive without having emptied out all that negativity.  I feel happier, lighter and more positive than I have for eight and a half years.

And it feels wonderful........

Thanks for checking in.  I hope it was worth the wait ;)    Laurie

P.S.  If you watched the London Olympic opening did you notice the hill with the tree on it that was the center of the beginning scene and where all the country's flags were put? And did you remember it was the same hill I climbed on the five year anniversary of the first heart surgery?  Yes, it was the Glastonbury Tor, mentioned repeatedly--look back on the Oct 15, 2009 post!  They described it briefly as being a special, mystical site for thousands of years.  Gives you a little more insight as to why that was my goal when I marked that special date, and an incredible synergy with the above.