Everyday Yogini

I know I’ve mentioned Ode Magazine before. Definitely a personal favorite, their tag-line is, “the magazine for intelligent optimists” - who can’t get behind that?

Anyway, this month, I was delighted to find that one of their featured articles is “How to Help your Body Heal Itself”. So, if you are interested in reading what the experts have to say on the subject - not just me - check it out here.

Wondering why the mid-week blog post? Well, the British school system gives kids a one week break every 6 weeks, so Clara is home from school this week. She has spent a day with friends, a few days with me, a day with our house help, and tomorrow, she gets a special day with Daddy. I am so grateful that our lives are flexible enough to provide this kind of fun schedule for Clara.

As I convey my experience, I want to make it clear that I am acutely aware that my story is just one - and not a very serious case at that. There have been perhaps 7 days that I have been unable to function normally since this all began. I’ve still managed to show up for life and do what I need to do. Many people do not have that luxury when they are dealing with serious, life-threatening illness. However, I think there are universal lessons that I’ve learned that could be helpful for anyone dealing with emotional or physical pain.

But before I talk about what I think might be helpful for ANYONE dealing with pain, I need to complete the story, from then until now…

I have had at least five follow up gastroscopes. Three of them came in quick succession, because during a follow up that I insisted on (I was in a LOT of pain) they found a polyp growing out of the papilla and thought it might be cancerous. It wasn’t, but that was beyond stressful. After that episode, the doctors put me on proton pump inhibitors to decrease stomach acid, and I ended up being allergic to them. (I was having terrible kidney pain and the doctor’s were, really, blowing me off. Two days after I went off of the Prilosec, the pain was gone.)

I stopped eating gluten and dairy, after consulting with a nutritionist. Eventually, the doctors tested me for allergies and DID find the lactose intolerance - the gluten, well, I still hold out hope that I will be able to eat it again, but from my observations, I’m not there yet. I’ve taken a bunch of different supplements, but the ones I’ve stuck with have been anti-inflammatory in nature: fish oil, polyphenols, adaptogenic herbs, ginger, and acid neutralizers. I also started using “healing foods” like miso and kudzu. I tried QiGong as a healing therapy. Since arriving in Rome, I have not been to an acupuncturist - it’s so expensive here, but I wish I had access to one.

But really, the main theme that has been at work since this all began is me fighting with reality. To make the pain go away. Preferably yesterday. And of course, in the process of doing that, I learned a lot and discovered some very important things that have been critical in supporting my body. But in the end, healing wasn’t at all what I thought it was. Let me elaborate.

Body Care
Nutrition is a very important component of any healing program. Whether our pain is physical or emotional, it is so important to take care of our bodies with nourishing foods. It just so happened that I have some food intolerances that needed to be addressed, and it helped me, for sure, and I would encourage anyone having problems with fatigue, physical pain, or digestive issues to check it out.

Moving our bodies is another important part of supporting healing, and yet often, when we are in pain, we avoid exercise! Doing what you can, when you can, is, just like nutrition, a vital way to care for your body and your emotions. Think about how good you feel after you go for a walk or go to a Yoga class. This is even MORE important when we are physically or emotionally hurting.

In addition to eating well and exercising, being outside in the sunshine, in nature, is also so important and renews us is such important ways - not just physically.

I also incorporate little bits of serious self-care into my days: after showering, I massage my feet and ankles with lavender-scented oil, I drink MUCH less coffee, I rest with Clara in the afternoon, I also take baths a few times a week after Clara goes to sleep, and, finally, speaking of sleep, I make a point of getting enough.

Simple, important steps to support a healthy body and clear mind. Speaking of a clear mind…

Mind Management
Being informed is important, but is sort of a double edged sword. I tend to look at all the possible scenarios (online) and then end up freaking myself out (sound familiar to anyone?). That being said, knowing what I know has been invaluable in dealing with the medical system and asking for tests to rule things out. Everyone needs to be a partner with their health care providers and I don’t believe you can do that without being informed. Doctors are not infallible and they are not the experts on the bodies that we live in - we are.

I contend that an even more important use of your mind in the midst of crisis, physical pain, or emotional pain is using the power of your mind through visualization. I often visualize healing energy flowing through my body while using the mantra, “My mind is calm, my organs are healthy.” (I learned this through QiGong) I find this a very soothing practice that can be used anytime, anywhere.

If you have a regular meditation practice, now is a good time to use that training and become the witness to your own thoughts and be very conscientious of whether what they are telling you is actually true. That may sound a little weird, but more on that later.

Spirit Care
This, to me, is the most important part of the equation. And I have a story to tell before I talk more about this.

About two months ago, I just got tired of fighting with the pain. It was so apparent to me that every time I experienced pain, I was getting anxious and gyrating around, obsessing on what I could do to make it go away. At this particular time, I decided I just wanted to make friends with it. Tired of fighting, I increased my meditation practice in the hope it would help me co-habitate with the pain in my body. I also decided to alter my Yoga practice radically to be primarily mindfulness-based, so I would be spending a majority of my practice time focused on developing my ability to relax into the moment, into life as it presents itself in any given moment.

This was a very astute move.

Oddly enough, within a week or so of practicing in this way, my pain dropped off drastically. I have no explanation and it certainly wasn’t my goal, but, nonetheless, it’s true. Come to find out, this is not an entirely uncommon experience. Meditation has been shown to have dramatic effects on pain and mental states (like anxiety).

So, in the end, it all came back to the practices that I’ve been working with for 16 years - Yoga and meditation. There is also the work of Byron Katie, which is very complementary to meditation and Yoga, as it is completely focused on accepting what is happening in the moment. Byron Katie’s work should also go in the “Mind Management” category - although when used it definitely lightens the emotional load, it is very much a way to observe and question thoughts. I highly recommend it.

And, need I even mention the practice of gratitude?

_____________________

At the end of the day, today to be precise, I still have pain. Not every day, but it’s still there. However, I now consider myself definitely more healed than not. Because I don’t believe any longer that healing means “pain free”. Healing is an inherent quality of spirit, a sense of perspective. I love this quote by Jon Kabat-Zinn about what healing is, as opposed to curing:

“Healing implies the possibility for us to relate differently to illness, disability or even death as we learn to see with eyes of wholeness…. This comes from practicing such basic skills as going into and dwelling in states of deep physiological relaxation and seeing and transcending our fears and our boundaries of body and mind… Moments of experiencing wholeness, moments when you connect with the domain of your own being, often include a palpable sense of being larger than your illness or your problems and in a much better position to come to terms with them.”

Every day, when I sit to meditate, and often during the day, I turn my focus to the fact that I am breathing. As I write that, it literally gives me goosebumps and brings tears to my eyes. Just that simple awareness means so much - it means I am here to see my daughter grow up, I am here to share life with my husband, I am here to go to work, drink coffee, laugh with friends, walk the streets of Rome… the complete experience of life is mine to taste and touch.

And it is for you, too.

May you be well,
May you be happy,
May you be filled with peace.

How I wish it ended here.

After our arrival in Italy, I felt great physically. I had little, niggling pain now and again, but nothing that was of great concern. We were settling in to our new life- looking at schools for Clara, learning the neighborhood, getting a handle on our job here. I can’t say that I loved it- Rome is a very chaotic city and honestly, at first, I couldn’t be out in the city for more than a few hours without becoming cranky and overwhelmed. Rome is also not the cleanest city I’ve ever lived in and the idea of civic duty is lost on Romans. Everyone lets their dog poop on the sidewalks and garbage litters the streets. I was shocked by all of this, having travelled in the northern parts of Italy (think pristine and beautiful). So, I was not in love with being here when we arrived.

We finally moved in to our permanent apartment in mid-December. We celebrated Christmas and, as New Year’s approached, one evening I woke from a dead sleep, having the most intense pain I had ever felt. It felt as though I couldn’t breathe- the pain that radiated around my mid-section was incredible and I woke Erick immediately, telling him we needed to go to the hospital (seeing as I had been blown off in DC because I had never had blood work done during an acute episode of pain). Honestly, Erick was skeptical and we called an on-call nurse back in the States which proved to be useless. She told us to go to an Emergency Room. Of course. We then called the Embassy doctor and she called ahead to the hospital so someone would be expecting us. A sweet neighbor came to stay at our home with Clara, so we didn’t have to wake her.

I was scared - of what the doctors might find (or not find), of leaving Clara, of going to an Italian hospital, but mostly, I was scared of the pain. I felt like my body was failing me in the most basic of ways.

While we were driving out to the hospital, the intensity of the pain diminished greatly, which, in retrospect, indicated to the doctors that perhaps I had passed a leftover stone (from the gallbladder removal) through my bile ducts. In any case, I was admitted to the hospital and, to the credit of the Italian medical model, they took a thorough medical history, ran extensive blood tests and wouldn’t let me leave the hospital. Erick finally left to go home around 4:30 in the morning, and I tried to get some sleep, listening to Pema Chodron on my iPod for her soothing voice- knowing that my anxiety was not helping my body and wishing desperately that I could relax and be okay in the moment.

The next morning brought more tests. Unbelievably, here in Italy, doctors actually perform sonograms and CT scans. The GI doctor that was working my case took me personally to have the tests done and was given results on the spot (therefore, so was I).

Here is the rundown:
My liver enzymes were through the roof. This, combined with slightly dialated biliary ducts, indicated that I had passed a stone and/or the papillae between the bile ducts and the duodenum was dysfunctional. The CT scan showed nothing unusual. I ended up staying in the hospital another night, until my liver enzymes were coming down. The final morning, they finally gave me some weak tea and a piece of bread to eat. Food had never tasted so good, let me tell you!

My doctor insisted that I have an ERCP to rule out the possibility of any other stones in my bile ducts, and, they wanted to take a look at the papillae. This was scheduled for mid-January. Leaving the hospital on New Year’s Eve, I felt pretty good. I felt confident that I had passed a stone and that they would find nothing during the mid-January follow up. At least, that was my hope.

Mid-January came, and, to read my perspective in that moment you should read this. To hear about my hospital stay during the procedure, read this.

By the time I had the procedure, I had been dealing with the pain on and off for eight months and was thinking that the procedure would be the conclusion of this story. I was focusing heavily on nutrition and self-care in an effort to “be better”.

Little did I know that really, the path toward my healing had barely even begun.

Any good story should have a dramatic entrance. My story is ushered in by the birth of Clara. One of the happiest days of my life, to be sure. Shortly after she arrived, I began having terrible attacks of pain in the middle of the night. Radiating, sharp pain underneath my ribcage, to the right. I will blame sleep deprivation and nursing-brain on the fact that I did not seek medical care for this right away. In fact, I didn’t even think about it being a real problem until I had some blood work done four months post-partum and my liver enzymes were off a bit. My doctor was unconcerned about the enzymes, but I put the pieces together and told her I thought it might be my gallbladder (my Father had recently had his removed and I was familiar with his symptoms). One sonogram later, I was informed my gallbladder was full of stones. A few weeks after that, I was gallbladder-free and back to sleepless nights of nursing instead of sleepless nights of pain and nursing.

But of course, the story doesn’t end there.

Periodically, over the next two years, I would get similar shooting pains in the exact same place. Often when exercising, it would feel like a stitch in my side, but always right in that same spot. At the time, it was just a vague annoyance and would come and go rather quickly. I was too busy chasing after Clara to pay too much attention, frankly. I just chalked it up to a post-surgery quirk that would eventually fade into memory. But, I was “doing” all the right things: eating well, exercising, and practicing “small-child-in-the house-Yoga” which means five minutes of dedicated time on the Yoga mat is a miracle. And, along with doing all the right things, I was happy. Really, really, happy.

During this period, we were living in Colorado, in a co-housing community that I simply love (in fact, we still own our home there and plan, someday, to return). I made some wonderful friends in Colorado- more so than at any other time in my life. Really. Growing up in a military family, we moved a lot and well, we weren’t the highest of functioning families, so making friends and keeping them was a skill that I didn’t really learn. I was so happy to be living in community, but to be honest, I complained a lot (a terrible habit).  In any case, marrying a military man, I knew we would leave again, but I was dreading it. As in, deep-down, despairing kind of dread.

When the news came down that we were, in fact, moving, and it would be two quick moves in succession- first to D.C. for 7 months of training and then onto Rome for three years, outwardly, I was ecstatic. “Rome? Of course I can’t wait to move to Italy, everyone! This is the greatest thing EVER!!!” Inwardly, I was grief-stricken to be leaving the place Clara was born, and the community that I love so much. I didn’t WANT to go to D.C. or Rome. And I was scared… scared of what was coming and a more than a little pissed that my future seemed to be completely outside of my control.

The logistics of moving and getting settled in to our life in D.C. kept me occupied and busy enough to ignore all of this emotional darkness for a while. But the perfect storm was brewing in my body with the assistance of the tension, grief, fear, and anger that I was suppressing. In addition to all of this, I had completed the Portland Marathon (I walked it with my Mom) before moving, and had become inspired to become a runner. I began aggressively training for a marathon, doing long-distance running in which the pain in my side would be with me the entire run and after. 

But, I ignored it, just as I was ignoring the incredible swell of emotions that was barely below the surface.  

I have resisted writing about the ongoing, physical pain that I’ve dealt with (although I have, on occassion).  Let’s face it, in our culture, pain, illness, and old-age are all pushed away and ignored.  I know I have certainly been guilty of mentally and emotionally (even physically!) checking out from the reality of pain and suffering in those around me.  But, the fact is, no-one escapes this life without illness, pain of some kind, or, at the very least, death.  And, after a year and a half of learning to co-habitate with pain, I feel like I might be able to offer some hope, some practical ideas for living with chronic pain, or, at the least, someone might feel comfort in reading my story.  So,  however long it might take, I am going to share the full, unabridged story (as I remember it) and also the meandering path of healing that I have taken to arrive here, today. 

Because today, I feel good.  In fact, most days I feel good now.  I feel pain, but, it doesn’t consume my thoughts in a panicky, “What is wrong with me make it go away” sort of way.  To me, this is the essence of healing (quite different from “a cure”)- accepting life exactly as it is in the moment.  This doesn’t mean giving up, this doesn’t mean not researching, asking questions, and looking for alternatives.  This also doesn’t preclude hope and faith in a future that might be pain and illness-free.  However, what it does mean is a shift in perception- to acceptance, and also to treating this companion of pain as just that- a companion capable of teaching important lessons and offering great blessings to life.

So stay tuned, if you are so inclined.