Today I woke up in a panic. My chest was heavy and as I looked out my big bedroom bay window into the dark, all I could sense was fear. I saw it, tasted it, heard it. It enveloped me. Awake for less than a minute and life had me in a head lock, pinned down, unable to move.
I lay in bed wondering what was wrong with me. I rolled over and pulled up my down comforter. Safe.
It was not yet morning and I don't know if I ever felt so alone.
The day was packed: 8:15- appt at DHMC (hospital) for post breast surgery.
9:00 -appt for annual eye exam
10:45- fingerprinting at the police station for my work as a substitute at the school
Noon - therapeutic blood draw
2:00- therapy
3:30 - pick up son and go food shopping
How was I going to do this? My alarm was set for 6:10. I ran into the hall and put the heat on around 5:30. Back to bed for half an hour.
I don't know how but I got up, took a shower and got dressed. The less I thought the better. I imagined all the other people I know getting up for work. This is how people live every day.
My cat bella followed me around all morning, crying to be picked up. She sat over my left shoulder, her favorite place, and I walked around the house. I love her, she is my heart.
The good news of the day: Things look good with the breast and I'll have a 3D mammogram next year.
Bad news: The eye doctor is not sure why my tests are abnormal for eye pressure (25) and my left eye is drastically worse and seeing shadows of the letters on the eye test. "I've never seen results like this before," she said. I crossed my arms and thought, "Oh shit, here we go."
She wants me to see the neuro-opthamologist. Her first appt isn't until Jan 23th. They want to look at my optic nerve, etc.
Amazing.
I am upset because I want things to be different. I don't want to talk about medical stuff. I want to pretend I'm just gong through some stress and this will pass. I want to be able to run every day. I want my immune system to act properly. I want to pretend I am healthy.
I have pushed deep inside me a kind of rage, a screaming cry to let the heavens and hells know that I've had enough. ENOUGH!
I don't want to feel sorry for myself…I HATE THAT! I am stuck. Stuck between denial and not wanting to sound like a victim.
I give myself kudos point for pushing myself. I run when my knee aches. I clean the house when I am exhausted. I have gotten so good at not feeling my pain that the pain has to yell now. All I want to do is yell back. "I hate you!" but that isn't very kind of me, is it?
Pain doesn't have it in for me. Pain comes from something being wrong. I don't want to be wrong.
I feel so cut off from others. Yet, how do I know how many other people suffer in silence?
I listened to some Buddhist lectures in the car, stressing how we are all interconnected. I understand why it is important to be kind and helpful and patient. I failed at that this morning. All I could think of was my own fear and loneliness.
While I was waiting for my surgeon (20 minutes in that waiting room) I prayed for all the sick and hurting people in the hospital. I prayed for grace, contentment and peace. I envisioned sending out waves of peace to them. I didn't want any of them to suffer alone. I try. I try. I try.
Tonight I called my mother and told her the news. I started to giggle when I told her about my eye. It is funny, in a warped way. Here is another path for me to walk down.
Part of my life is dedicated to understanding what life is all about. I read a lot of philosophy. I have always been a deep intense thinker. I wonder. I try to figure out. I question. I observe. I wonder again.
I am digging and digging. I may not get anywhere but I am learning to be an excellent digger and I have piles and piles of dirt. ha!
I look around and wonder. I have no answers…but I go on. I still want to stop people from suffering. I still want to find my place. Maybe this is my place. Maybe my suffering is giving me the best opportunity to help others. I wonder...
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