Moving From Angst to Gratitude

I am feeling a lot of angst about leaving my dog. I am going to visit my son and his wife and my two grandchildren for 3 weeks over the holidays. I have arranged for Taj to stay at my friend Carolyn’s house for the duration.

During this year I had to leave him at Carolyn’s and with another friend, Sheila, during my 2 surgeries and recovery. All together that was a month and a half. Now I am going off again. I feel my heart being pulled.

This is my first year with Taj. I got him just before Christmas last year. He is a marvelous guy. He is gentle, friendly with other animals, wonderful and endlessly patient with children and adaptable. He seems to be able to go to others’ homes and stay without much stress.

Of all the dogs I have had in my life, Taj is the one who is not neurotic. He is the one who can make changes. He is the one who is not aloof with I return from an extended visit. He is immediately present to me and that makes me very happy.

I feel fortunate to have friends who want Taj to stay with them. I am glad I don’t have to leave him in a kennel. I feel like he is getting personal attention and love at my friends’. That is so important to me. He will get walked and played with and loved on. Taj and I are lucky that way.

So, since Taj will be cared for and happy, why am I anxious and feeling guilty leaving him? There are feelings of abandonment that come up when I think about leaving him. I don’t think he reflects this or that he even experiences this. He lives in the moment and when he is with Carolyn or Sheila he is happy.

I also feel as though I am shirking my responsibility as a pet-owner. I feel as though I made a commitment and am not living up to my end of the deal. This, too, is not accurate, as I know finding him appropriate care when I am unavailable is part of being a good pet-owner.

Are some of my feelings due to the fact that I will miss him? You bet. That seems obvious and normal. I enjoy his little spirit immensely and love waking up to his happy little self each day. Still, I need to be able to go away from him and be okay with his staying here.

At least I know the problem is mine and not Taj’s. I have the capacity to work though my feelings. It is not a far stretch for me to get to gratitude. I am sincerely grateful to my friends for loving Taj and appreciate their willingness to take him into their homes.

I think it is time to let go of the angst and start enjoying the time I am away more. He is going to be well cared for when I am gone and I can go with the assurance of that. I am going to let go of “my stuff” and simply leave with confidence and enjoy my family. Taj will be fine.

The Tao of Growing Up and Older

Growing up took me fifty years. Looking back to when I was little I see my idea of being a grownup was turning 18 and leaving home. Boy, was I off base with that one! In my first marriage when I was 21 I was lost. I remember not knowing how to cook or even the correct way to do dishes. It became more and more clear I had no idea who I was. I went to a therapist who said he would only work with me if I “took responsibility for myself”. It took me a while to go back and give it a go because I had no clue what he was talking about.

When I was 27 my mother died and my world came unglued! At twenty-eight I made a major move across the country, married my second (and last) husband and had a baby. I hear from time to time people talking about a Saturn return--the first one occurring at age 28. I am not totally clear what all that means other than the experience I had, which was treacherous and chaotic. Then, as you can imagine, there was a young woman (me) who didn’t know who she was, taking care of a new human being on the planet. Yikes!

My son, Shannon, had a baby sitter who saved my behind. When he was about 2 ½ she approached me with the offer for Shannon and me to move in with her family so I could get out of a difficult marriage. I jumped at the opportunity. We stayed with them for a year and a half. Gina and John and their daughters, Becca and Jesse, were the first “role model family” I had ever experienced. As I look back on that time I believe I started out as an infant developmentally when I arrived and grew about two years each month until I moved out at would have been about age 18. The Universe gave me a chance to redo what I had missed.

During the time I lived with them I experienced Gina as the Good Mother I had grown up without and John as the Good Father, also absent when I was a child. Their girls were like little sisters—and we engaged in verbal fights, felt jealous, painted our fingernails, lay around on beds and chatted and basically acted like kids.(The twins were 9 when we moved in.) I learned a tremendous amount about who I was, what being a kid felt like, and a teen, as well as an adult. I also learned mother skills. One of the things I learned was how to set boundaries and the importance of that for children to feel safe. I learned too much to express here. I will always be eternally grateful for my “chosen” family.

A number of serial relationships dominated my thirties and forties. I was still struggling to keep my head above water, make a living, finish a Masters Degree and Ph.D., be as good a single parent as possible, start a business and work on my inner self to help find my way. I remember those years as a combination of being overwhelmed dealing with adult reality and trying to find stability by leaning on relationships that were too fragile because I was incapable of keeping all the plates in the air at the same time. I was have a challenging time being an adult.

Fifty came quickly as a shock. It didn’t register to me that I was that chronological age, mostly because I think I was still not feeling like it. During this decade, though, reality hit the fan and I began to move, mostly not by choice, into adulthood. It was gradual and took a lot of letting go to get out of the way of the process, but at a certain point mid-way between 50 and 60 I felt as though I had become an adult. I was confident to be alone, intrigued by how easy and satisfying being responsible was, enjoyed thinking for myself and making my own decisions, preferred making choices to fitting into someone else’s idea of what I wanted and needed. It took me until I turned 60 to get solid with this growth—to feel like a healthy adult. It wasn’t until I was in my early 60s that I began to live my life as an adult with a little grace.

I will be turning 65 in March. Now my eyes are opened to the next stage of my life—growing older. That is also different than I thought when growing up. Being old has changed from the generations before me. Now, people are living longer and are much more active. When I was young and even into my thirties I found people over forty “old”. Now, my friends and I cannot believe we are in our 60s and 70s! It just does not seem real.

I am still active and have a full life of work, play, time to be, spirituality, fun, and contemplation. I am physically active, mentally stimulated by activities and love reading, playing, writing and teaching music and spending time with my friends. I feel emotionally more stable than I ever have with very few mood swings, anxiety or turmoil. My life is calm, satisfying, interesting, rewarding, exciting, and fun.

And, when exactly do we get “old”? It could happen in a second tomorrow or in thirty years. Our state of mind has a great deal to do with having a quality of life worth living. I remember talking with my friend Rodger, who died last year at the age of 94. He said being really old is not a good time. To him, it was not worth living after his body gave out. That is food for thought. Who knows? All I am certain of is how pleased I am to be an adult, to be in my 60s with some consciousness and awareness of myself, to be happy.

This might be the first time in my life I have actually thought consciously about where I am now and where I am going. I do a lot of things these days simply because I can. I carefully consider what and who is in my life. I value different things than I did when I was younger. I like my life now much more than any other time!

Lessons Learned

I have learned a lot about myself during the last six months. During that time I was in almost continual intense pain, eventually ending up with a complete knee replacement followed six weeks later with a complete hip replacement. Wow! I am now five weeks out from the last surgery and just got back from a walk in the park with my dog, Taj. It’s just amazing that I can be pain free and mobile again!

So, where do I begin? The first thing that comes to mind is dealing with pain. I have had short periods of intense pain—childbirth comes to mind. Never have I had eye-tearing pain that continues day and night for months! I have never been one to complain or whine about pain. This time I did. What did I learn? Whine LOUDER!

My surgeon and primary doctor both underestimated my concerns about the amount of pain I was in. They did not believe me, partly because they had never known me to complain. Also, I don’t think I was persistent or persuasive enough in my communications with them. I hadn’t come into my power yet, which is one of the things that developed throughout this process.

More about power: When I went into the therapy rehab unit after the knee surgery they didn’t have my medication ordered. I spent the first 20 hours there without any pain medication. I called my good friend who had been a nurse before retiring and said, “I’m out of here.” She said, “No, you’re not! You have to learn to get what you need, say what you need and come into your power around this. Imagine what you want your recovery to look like and make it so”. She was right.

When you are in a rehab unit there is a constant flow of people coming in an out of your room to help you, take vitals, offer various therapies, give medications, clean your room, etc. I learned that I had to say what I wanted. If it wasn’t a good time for me—I had to say that. If I had company, I had to say, “No, please come back”. After a while I got better and better at this and came out stronger than I have ever been.

After the knee surgery my hip began to deteriorate quickly. I had to use my newfound power to push the surgeon to do the appropriate tests necessary to meet insurance mandates for doing surgery. The surgeon said to me, “I didn’t listen to you about how bad your knee was so this time I am going to pay attention. You know your body and I need to take your lead. I will order the tests and do surgery six weeks after the knee, if needed.” I was shocked to hear this from a surgeon! I was shocked and happy!

Another thing I learned was what excellent, loving, amazing friends I have. Everyone was exceptional and completely there for me in exactly the right ways I needed. I knew I had good friends but until I was laid up I didn’t know how totally fantastic they were. I had many visits during both surgeries and recoveries, calls, cards, prayers and well-wishes galore and ended up knowing without a doubt I am living in the right place and am truly blessed.

I am grateful to be on the other side of these surgeries. I am still going to physical therapy twice a week and a lot of my time and attention goes toward my exercises and continued rehab. I am walking well and am practically pain free. I wouldn’t want to go through it again. I did learn a lot about myself. I learned to honor my needs and how to go about getting them met.

The Whining Continues

• A number of years ago my son and my sister, who know me better than anyone, told me they felt I had NO aptitude for whining. They both believed it was impossible for me to think in a way that would induce complaints of any kind. I had to agree with them. My outlook on life has been generally optimistic and open to possibilities and I tend to take the bleak as part of the process and not the end. Therefore, all I have to do is wait and the process will cycle around and things will change. There has really been no need to complain. The lessons learned by the challenges are well worth it in hindsight.
• 
  
  This is not to say I haven’t had my share of sadness, grief, anger, disappointment, pain, depression and heartache. In fact, I feel like my life has been a consistent, steady procession of these. It’s just that I deal with them as they come up and work through their pain and then let them go. I have gotten better and better at this, although I believe, it will be an ongoing lifework and lesson for me.
  
  
  I have also considered myself to have a high tolerance for physical pain. Other than having a natural birth with my son I have never experienced an unbearable level of physical pain for long periods of time. Hence, no complaints. However, I spent this last summer in constant knee pain that finally resulted in a complete knee replacement at the end of July. The pain was so constant for such a long period of time I couldn’t even think clearly. It was all consuming. It wouldn’t let up. I admit, I got cranky and even whined!
  
  
  The knee is healing fabulously now and I have consistently been way ahead of the rehab schedule. However, walking with a crippled knee for 3 months put stress on my opposite hip and now I am facing a complete hip replacement on September 23rd. The pain is unbearable and I am finding it challenging to walk without a cane for any distance.
  
  
  Now, you might think I am really cranky and whiney! But, no, I am taking it all as it comes. I have gotten over feeling as though I have lost large parts of my life. (Things like: TaiChi, hiking, taking long walks, and orchestra to name a few). I am more settled into the healing cycle and am letting that lead my process rather than letting the pain dominate and control.
  
  
  I have always had anxiety about new things. Going into my second major surgery in 7 weeks I know exactly what it will be like, what the hospital and rehab facility are like, how they work. I know about myself and how I will react. I am clear I am going to feel a lot of pain initially and then it will get better and better. This is not to say I have no fear. Now, though, I can see an end to this horrible and intense pain. I can’t wait until 3 weeks from now when the surgical pain has stopped and the actual hip pain is gone. I am visualizing and keeping my mind focused on this reality.
  
  
  Am I glad I learned to whine? You bet. I have discovered if I can stop myself and not give in to complaining, the pain shows me exactly what I need. As this has become more familiar, the need to whine has diminished. This has lead to the newly emerging skill of asking for what I need. This is the greatest gift of the pain I’ve experienced. I know going into this second surgery I am many times better at identifying my needs and more comfortable asking for them than I have ever been in my life. Is whining just a step in a long continuum of knowing, allowing and feeling like you deserve to have your needs met? I am beginning to think that is true. For the record, about Tuesday’s surgery, “I don’t like it!”
  
  

Painful Lessons

I was in my early 30’s when I read Stephen Levine’s book, Who Dies. In it is a meditation to use to deal with and ease pain. In the meditation the directive is to soften around the pain. At the time of my reading this I had no pain. I was working with people who were dying who were in pain, though, and this meditation was beautifully successful in dealing with them. Somehow, I knew that Stephen’s concept was the Truth and profound. Little did I know that someday I would be in searing pain over a period of time that would prompt me to recall the meditation and put it to use.

On August 27th I had a total knee replacement. That was four and a half weeks ago. It was much more major surgery than I had realized. It was incredibly painful. I was in rehab for almost 3 weeks and am still walking with a cane. The meditation served me well during this time.

The three months prior to the surgery I had terrible knee pain and could barely walk. I got through by using a cane. After the first month, the opposite hip became more painful than the knee from compensation. Having knee surgery and being in recuperation at a rehab facility brought relief to the hip. Probably narcotics helped as well with all pain.

Now I am off the narcotics and the hip has flared up again. Meditation is challenging to remember to do when the pain is so overriding but when I remember to do it I am calmed and the pain is more bearable.

Today I got honest with myself about the very real possibility of needing a hip replacement in the next few weeks. I struggled not to be devastated. I acknowledged fear and dread: I know hips are easier than knees in terms of pain and healing. It’s just that it is just so soon after having surgery. Winter is coming and it would be a lot easier to heal now than if I waited.

I don’t know if the physical pain or emotional pain won out today. I didn’t actually feel sorry for myself. I simply had the awareness that I wanted to get back into my life and do things that nourished my body and soul and that I couldn’t do that.

What is the lesson I am supposed to learn from this? I am trying my best to see the inner process that is the driving force behind the physical manifestation. This afternoon I dreamt of a large black dog who was actually an elephant and I had to tell the truth to some people who wanted to show him that he isn’t a show quality dog. I am struggling to get up my nerve to tell them...

When I went into the rehab facility I did not get my medications for 16 hours. I called a good friend who is a retired geriatric nurse and said, “I’m out of here!” She said, “No you’re not. Part of your rehab is learning to ask for what you need. She was absolutely right. I got much better at asking and this has carried over into my life in a positive way. I had to visualize what I needed to get out of rehab and make it work for myself. It was a great experience even with its rough start.

So, now, I am trying to visualize my life in the next month. I know I have more opportunities to work with pain—both physical and emotional. I need to move through this and then my life will be available again. I need to continue to soften around the pain, lack of patience, and depression.

Pain Brain

For the last 3 months I have been in excruciating pain. It started one night when I woke up and my right leg hurt so much I could not walk. A trip to the emergency room unearthed nothing. The first orthopedic surgeon ordered an MRI at my insistence to determine what was going on. I was put off by his ageist, non-directive manner so I sought a second opinion.

The second orthopedic surgeon essentially told me there was nothing he could do. I understand now that in the orthopedic world that is code for “I can only do surgery to help you and I don’t think you are ready to hear that”. The discouragement when I went home after seeing him was difficult to bear.

The next fiasco was trying to get painkillers. A miscommunication with my PCD led to six weeks going without them. During this time my pain level was relentless and I was unable to concentrate, sleep or think. When my doctor and I finally sorted the situation out, I finally got painkillers. This helped about 50%. I was still in a lot of pain but the painkillers took the edge off.

A rheumatologist finally went over my MRI with a radiologist and told me my knee was very bad. A standing ex-ray had never been taken and needed to be to confirm the bad condition my knee was in. Her advice was to call the 2nd surgeon and make an appointment for surgery.

I tried this and the ball began rolling. The next day I was in his office with his assistant looking at bone-on-bone on a standing ex-ray. It was confirmed that a total knee replacement was appropriate for the date I had set.

Never have I been in so much pain for so long a time. Pain is an interesting teacher. It is relentless. It takes the upper hand and will not let you keep up with it. Trying to stay ahead of pain is all but impossible and once it has won its domination it stays triumphant.

Pain brain is an interesting phenomenon. There is no logic to it. There is only physical, mental, emotional and spiritual pain. The different types of pain occupy the brain in varying ways. Sometimes only one aspect is active. At other times they can all fire off at the same time. This amount of pain is totally challenging and is something that can rarely be tolerated.

I tried everything to cope. Breathing helped temporarily. I was unable to concentrate so reading, creating, and all of my usual life was out of reach. My body hurt too much. Mental and emotional pain could be temporarily relieved for a few moments with meditation. Spiritually I was losing ground and I could feel my life force slipping away. I was depressed.

Depression is a familiar old friend. I have been dealing with it for years—but never in this way. The longer the pain went on the more I could barely hang on. I found the despair unbearable and felt it was going to be never-ending. I clung on to my sanity by my fingernails and tried as best I could to keep going. The life activities that had fed my soul and given me a tremendous vitality were gone. I felt as though I had abandoned myself and had been abandoned but had no energy to do anything about it.

What does Pain Brain feel like? There is an overlay of the feeling of being overwhelmed by physical pain. There is a strong sense of hopelessness and an ever-growing doubt that things will ever change. There is no vitality or life force and it takes all your energy just to walk across the room. Concentration is impossible. This makes reading, playing and writing music, doing anything creative, communication with others and thinking in general impossible. Pain Brain is all consuming, relentless and will not give up its domination. Doing anything takes all your energy and requires rest. Sleep is sporadic and challenging.

I feel as though I have missed the summer, a time when activities outside bring me so much fun and pleasure.  All of my energy has gone into the losing battle with my Pain Brain. I have lost. Over and over again I have watched myself dip deeper and deeper into oblivion.

I welcome the pain of having surgery because I know with that there is an end in sight. I feel edgy and on have no tolerance for the thought of more pain. I sense this in my everyday life. For instance, I will wait several days to go down the hall to get the mail, think hard about if I want to walk across the room to get something, welcome sleep when it comes and have given up on reading entirely. I need this to change.

I have a new respect and appreciation for people who live with debilitating pain all the time. I simply don’t know how they do it and realize now that Pain Brain’s domination fills many lives everyday. I do not know how they survive?

My surgery is coming up the last day of July. There is an end in sight. I will not have won the battle with Pain Brain but hopefully getting my life back will put it away for a very long time. I am not grateful for the pain. Perhaps I will never be. I feel as though I have learned nothing—other than I do not have any power when pain grips me so strongly. I have been cranky and whiney and feel betrayed by my body aging. I am hoping to regain some positive insight when this is all over. I’ll let you know.