Lorelei

Grateful To Be Alive

I called the doctor's office on Friday.  I couldn't bear the thought of going through the weekend not knowing the results.  The woman who answered the phone looked in the fax machine and told me the cancer was all gone.  They got it all out.  I asked her if that was it and she said that is it. I go back to get my stitches out in two weeks and I am done.  Wow.

I could have died, but they caught it early so I am not dying yet.  Time to go back to a normal life.  Funny thing is I feel differently than I did before.

The amaryllis flowers in my office are so beautiful that they take my breath away.  I sit staring at them in wonder.

I sit outside in the sun marveling at the beauty of the day.  I feel the wind on my face caressing my cheeks and I focus on breathing in the air.  It smells so sweet.  The grass beneath my feet feels spongy and squishy as my toes curl into it. 

I drive home from work and gape at the sunset.  There is so much I have taken for granted that I am overwhelmed.  I have been so lost in thought in my own little world that I have not appreciated all that I have just living on this beautiful planet.

My sister sent me this beautiful CD to help people heal.  I listened to it lying in bed and chills ran through me.  I lay there entranced.

I made a blackberry crisp and let the vanilla ice cream melt over the top.  The blackberries were so big and juicy and it tasted so good.  I got every last bite and then I licked the bowl.

I thanked God many times, but it doesn't seem enough the say thank you.  What else can I do?

Is there something more I need to do to be of service, to help others, to be more compassionate, more loving, to make more of a difference in the world?  I am not sure, but that is one question I want to ask.  Maybe I will get an answer.

 

One thing I am committed to is telling people to learn how to check their skin and go into their doctor for regular skin check ups.  The above video educates you on how to check your skin for early, curable melanoma.  Both my children have agreed to get checked.

Sometimes, I forget to be grateful and slip into my old ways.  I remind myself that I am alive and I caught the cancer early and that is enough of a miracle to be grateful for--for a long, long time.

 

Melanoma

I woke up at 2:30 am this morning terrified that I was going to die soon.  Nothing I did would dissapate my fear.  I tried all the tricks of relaxation and meditation.  I listened to guided imagery.  The fear consumed me like a black octopus inside my chest spreading its tentacles throughout my body. 

I want to see my children get married and be successful in their careers.  I want to meet my grandchildren.  I want to continue my work as a sign language interpreter.  I am not the best interpreter in the world, but I love what I do. I hope that for the Deaf person I am interpreting for at that moment in time, I am making a difference.  I hope I am bridging that gap so that they can understand and communicate.  I want to be of service in the world and spread love and compassion.  I want to have fun with my husband and travel the world. I want to learn--so many things I want to learn.  I am not ready to stop living. 

Two months ago, I noticed a spot on my right butt cheek that was itching.  It was a light blue color and it was bothering me.  A few days later, when I went to see my Chinese doctor for acupuncture, I showed her the spot.  She told me to go to the skin doctor and get it checked out.  If it was bothering me, they could just take it off.  So, I called a skin doctor who was recommended by my family doctor.  It took me a month to get an appointment.

When I arrived at the office, I took off all my clothes and put on a hospital gown.  An intern came in and looked me over.  She said she did not notice anything suspicious.  A few minutes later, the doctor came in.  He looked me over as well and I was expecting him to say the same thing.  He looked at the spot that had been bothering me (it was no longer itching) and told me it was just calcium deposits.  Then, he focused in on a small brown spot on my upper right thigh.  It was not perfectly round, but a bit misshapen.   The color was not a perfect brown.  It was darker on the outside and lighter in the middle.  He asked me if this spot had changed recently.  I told him that I could not remember.  He said that he didn't think it was a concern, but he could not rule it out so he wanted to do a biopsy.  Before I left, he emphasized again that he did not want me to worry--the chances of it being a "problem" (he did not mention the "C" word) were minimal. 

I waited ten days.  On Monday January 23rd, I had a particularly difficult day at work.  I normally work 20-25 hours a week and the previous week, I had worked almost 50 hours.  For a sign language interpreter that is really too much.  On that day, there was some conflicts and challenges as well in addition to the quantity of work.  I came home physically and emotionally exhausted and there were two messages on my home machine.  One was from the doctor asking me to call him.  The other was from the nurse telling me I needed to come in for surgery.  Neither one mentioned a diagnosis, but it didn't take a genius to figure out that it wasn't good.

It was after five pm, so I had to wait until the following day to talk to anyone.  I called the first thing in the morning and got my diagnosis of melanoma.  I scheduled my surgery and then looked it up online.  It was pretty terrifying.  The pictures alone were enough to make me gasp.  I had always felt compassion and concern for other people who were diagnosed with cancer, but now it was my turn.  It was alot to wrap my head around.  I called my husband Michael and other friends for support, but mostly I was numb and shaken. 

At two that afternoon, I finally got a hold of the doctor and he told me that we had caught the cancer early.  It was a thin layer sitting on the surface of the skin and it did not look like it had spread.  He thought we could take care of it in one surgery.  I asked him if he was sure.  After all, he had originally told me that he didn't think there was any need for concern.  He told me that nothing is100%, but it looked like it was in the early stage--stage 1A.

I got home and looked up melanoma.  It is the fastest growing and most deadly skin cancer.  Thousands of people die from it every year.  That is the truth-- the bare, honest, ugly truth.  It was hard to let that truth hit home and really enter my being.  I had recently gone out with a friend to dinner and she told me she had melanoma.  I had been compassionate and concerned.  She also contacted me later to let me know that they got it all out in surgery and she was fine.  But this was not a friend now, this was me.

Michael had been out of town now for almost three weeks.  It is the longest time in 28 years of marriage that we had ever been apart.  He flew home to be there for my operation last Friday afternoon.  The doctor drew a circle around my biopsy and then showed me how much skin he was going to take out. It looked like a shape of a football around the spot.   He explained that they needed to be aggressive to make sure they got the cancer competely out.  He put the numbing medication in me and then asked if I was numb.  I had no idea.  He started the operation, but it turned out I was not completely numb.  I  screamed and then I apologized.  (In retrosepct, it was the doctor who should have apologized, but he did not).  He put more numbing medicine in and told me that should be enough.  I was still not completely numb.  At that point, the operation was almost over, but when I felt the pain, I went into shock.  My body started shaking. I got very cold and I started crying and could not stop.  At this point, I went with the shaking and crying and did not apologize.  I had never been in shock before and there was a part of me that was fascinated and in awe with the way the body takes care of itself to deal with the shock.  It is such an automatic reaction. I did not resist. 

When are we taught that it is not allright to honor pain?  That it is not OK to cry or scream when we are in pain?  That we need to be brave and tough it out?  I noticed that engrained in me.  I decided that I am not going to apologize again for crying or screaming if I am in pain.  The image came to me of a little child screaming when they get a shot and then being fine a few minutes later.  Or, being in labor and screaming and grunting with the contractions.  I allowed myself to scream and cry and shake.  Then after a few minutes of that, it was done.  I was shaky and exhausted, but the pain was gone. 

My scar is about two and a half inches long on the top of my right thigh.  I told my husband that it is no big deal as long as the cancer is gone and I can live.  But, this morning when I was lying in bed, I was thinking about how the scar would look with my bathing suit on.

There was not much pain after the operation was over.  In fact, I welcomed the small amount of throbbing pain that was there.  It was an indication to me that I was alive and I could feel and surprisingly there was a gratefulness for that.

If I have to have another operation, I will not use that same doctor.  That being said, I still am grateful for the medical profession and their ability to diagnose and do what is necessary to get the cancer out.  I am also grateful that we have the ability to find out if we got all the cancer out or not.

Now I have to wait for the results.

Others who have had this cancer tell me this is the hardest part.  The waiting.  Why does it take so long?  How many pieces of skin can there be for the lab technicians to analyze?

I have told many friends and family members about my melanoma diagnosis.  Some people are more secretive about their medical issues and that is their right.  I guess I am one of those who wants to share and get support. 

Many people have told me  "Oh, I am sure it will be fine."  "It sounds like it won't be a problem."  I have had some people say that they don't know what the big deal is.  People get skin cancer taken off all the time.  I am actually saying all those same things to myself.  But, it does not make me feel any better.  I am sure I would probably feel worse if the doctor told me it looked like it had spread and it was in the later stages--no doubt.  But, the reassurances from myself and others are not that helpful. The bottom line is, I don't know for sure, until I get the results, that the cancer is gone.

This morning, after I could not get back to sleep, I started doing tonglen. Tonglen is a Buddhist practice where you feel your feeling completely and breathe it in. Then you send love out to all who have experienced that feeling.  You can do it for yourself and for others.  I spent some time feeling my Mom's pain who is recovering from an operation to get a pacemaker because her heart is beating too slow and too fast.  I breathed in her pain and breathed out love to her.  Then, I focused on myself.  I felt the fear completely and then I sent love out to all of those who have ever felt this fear.  I sensed in my heart that many, many, many people have felt this fear.

We are all going to die.  I know that.  I am just hoping that it is not yet my time.

 

Good Posture

  
Recently, my back started hurting.  It scared me because I know many people in my life who are completely debilitated by back pain and I have always been grateful that my back feels fine.  My therapist recommended a woman to me named Esther Gokhale who has a back rest that really helped him since he has to sit eight hours or more a day. 

 

 I was surprised that the rest did not go on the lower back, but the upper back.  The idea is that if the discs of the spine are compressed, it is easier to hurt them.  But, if you stretch them out then there is not only  less chance for injury, but also you are healing your back at the same time.  I hung the stretchsit cushion on my car seat and then put a blanket over the back of my chairs and focus on sitting with a straight back with my shoulders back.  The sensation is that of hanging your back like it is on a coat hook as you sit.  It relaxes my arms and stretches my back.

When I ordered her book, I found out it was not just about backs; it was about posture.

Esther Gokhale injured her back and got back surgery.  It helped for a while, but then the pain came back.  She is an acupuncturist and wanted to find the secrets of healing her back.  So, she traveled the world to see how other people dealt with and prevented back pain.  The book is full of amazing pictures that she took all over the world of posture.  People are moving their bodies in ways that work and actually heal their bodies rather than causing pain. 

The picture at the beginning of my blog is one of those pictures.  It shows two Ubong tribesmen.  The grace, beauty and strength of their bodies are inspiring.

Esther does not believe in the traditional way of lifting either because it is too hard on the knees.  Instead, she uses a technique called "hip-hinging"

 

Here are some more inspiring pictures:

 

Man working--look at his straight back and how his shoulders naturally lift up and back.

 

 

 

 

This woman is carrying her child in a way that stretches the child's back and supports her body as well.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

        This is hip-hinging.  I was amazed how many times during the day I bend over.  As I became more aware of it, I could hear my back say "ow" when I bent to take out the laundry, got a case of water at the grocery store from a low shelf, or reached down to pull a pot out of the cabinet.  I tried this new technique of hip-hinging and felt no pain.  In addition, I can feel my hamstring and rhomboid muscles becoming stronger. 

At first, my back rounded, so I had to look in the mirror and practice. I also became aware when I had to bend and focused on doing it right.

I was shocked to notice how unaware I had been of posture.  I even would contort my body without giving it a second thought.  This happened most often in the car twisting around to get things in the back seat, which I have stopped doing.  I go around and open the back door.

The book includes lessons for sitting, standing, walking and even sleeping.  Here is an example of "tallstanding":
I am amazed at the beauty of the body and how it responds so readily to being treated well. On Esther's website,  she teaches classes in the Bay Area and all over the world.  The local ones (for me) are all full right now.  At some point, I would really like to take them.

I have just started to learn her glidewalking.  It feels like I am a two year old learning to walk all over again.  It is quite exciting really.  I went from a woman in pain to a woman excited about learning a whole new way of moving and relaxing her body.  I feel blessed.