There was a bittersweet essence that pervaded my mind as I took the final glimpse at the hospital walls before pushing through the two automatic doors. I knew in that moment there was a part of me that was going to miss being at North Valley, although another part of me felt as if I had just been released from prison or a tuberculosis ward. This bears no reflection on the hospital, nor my care, as my time spent there I still hold in high regard. Rather this speaks about the freedom I experienced as the cold air kissed my skin, igniting a series of chills, with a rush of delight that permeating my being. The air smelled clean, fresh, and alive. Meanwhile the surrounding mountains appeared to be airbrushed with a thin layer of clouds, just enough to see through like a transparent veil, revealing a panorama reminding me I was home. An overall feeling of contentment and satisfaction paralleled the incredible chills, while a great smile widened across my face. The sounds of the outside world followed and the reality of the moment set in. I was finally heading home!
I will not bore you with the details of making phone calls, picking up prescriptions, checking in with a doctors office, stopping by the post office, or any of the other various tasks that subsequently happened immediately after my discharge. That didn't hold back the gorgeous winter wonderland that accompanied my ride through Whitefish and then along the lake. Arriving at my house was like returning home, literally. How profound! Honestly speaking, the aroma of my house was the first thing I noticed. A familiar sensory experience with all five senses participating in a confirmation that I was finally home. These five instruments each played a tune, like a melody, that struck a chord within me, returning me to a place of peace.
So, yeah, its great to be home, there really is no place like it. The comfort of home can not be overstated, I am filled with joy being here. That is not to say things will be any easier now that I'm here, in all actuality there are new challenges to yield to daily. I no longer have a button to press in order to get assistance, nor do I have a phone to pickup and order food or drinks to be delivered to my bed. There is no nurse to administer the shot I must give myself each night. I have to think a few moves ahead now, as everything I do takes more time now that I am in a wheelchair. Just to get a glass of water requires several steps, as does many other simple tasks. Yet I am in control now with everything: from communication, managing my schedule, my noise level, my choices, my life, its all in my hands now. And it feels good to have this power once again.
There were times when I felt vulnerable being in the hospital, being exposed, feeling lonely, seeking freedom of choice. Even though I had continuous visits from nurses and nursing assistants, doctors, physical therapists, friends, etc., the fact that I was living in a foreign setting made me feel isolated from my self. Now I feel connected to who I truly am, once again, in the comfort of my home.
The final few days and nights of being in the hospital were actually quite rewarding. I was anxious to get out of there, especially once my discharge date was set. My neighbor for the last two nights was a great friend and frequent patron of the restaurant. Her husband brought in wine each night, offering me a glass. I gladly accepted his offer, knowing that his wine cellar is the size of a super-model's closet. The first night was a glass of 03' Dumol, Pinot Noir, from Russian River. How wonderful to be enjoying some of California's finest Pinot Noir, aged for 8 years, while in the hospital. I savored every sip as if it were my last. The next night was a 87' Jordan, Cabernet Sauvignon, from Napa. If the Pinot was elegant, the Jordan was powerful. I allowed it to breathe for almost an hour before truly enjoying the complexity of top shelf napa cab that had been confined to a bottle for 20 plus years. I did get in a small amount of trouble with the first glass considering I was in a hospital after all, drinking is not something they encourage. Discovering that all I needed was a "order" from the doctor to allow me to consume a glass of wine became the ticket to drinking the Jordan with full clearance.
Its amazing to think that three weeks ago I was laying in the E.R. barking instructions to my sous chef about how the dishes for the wine dinner would be executed that evening; while doctors and nurses are urging me to hang up the phone. Now I sit with my road to recovery all in my hands. The fluctuations of progress are still the greatest challenge for me. Add to it the balance of managing pain and comfort, without indulging in "opiate ville", and constant attention is required to monitor my body's condition. Speaking of challenges, each night I must administer a shot, in my stomach, where virtually no fat exists, and I am expected to insert a needle and inject anti-blood clotting solution. I am going to go ahead and do it right now, so I can give you the play-by-play.
To begin, pulling the needle out of the package is not fun, nor is pulling the plastic cap off revealing the really sharp pointy thing that I am about to stick into my body! Wiping the spot with alcohol is like taking your pet to the vet, somehow they just know something is going on. Then I have to spread my thumb and forefinger about three inches to squeeze my belly, so I have some flesh to work with. Now I am jamming the needle into the flesh and slowly introducing the solution to the body, feeling the burning sensation that this non-coagulant solution provides. Resembling a fire ant or a bee sting, at least for a few minutes, this solution is not a pleasant feeling. There have been varying degrees of success with my efforts in putting a needle in my belly. Occasionally there will not be enough force and the skin does not get penetrated; or the needle will go in so fast that I pull it right back out. To top it all off, each shot costs $32. I'll be doing this for another two weeks. Its necessary to prevent blood clots, so they say, which can be incredibly dangerous. I guess its more like insurance for me. And thankfully, my insurance policy covers the cost of this (after the deductible is met of course).
Then there is my porch. While still in the hospital I dreamed of sitting on my porch. The last few days I have been basking in the sunlight and the beauty of my porch once again. This experience brought about tears of joy as it was a monumental feeling. Watching the snow melt off the trees, with the angle of the sunlight creating a spectrum, reminded me of the dangers of attachment. I imagined we are like the snow, clinging to the tree, holding on to what we have. Then the sunlight speaks to us, as if consciousness is saying its time to let go. If one tries to hold on too much, the sunlight will melt the attachment, returning us to the ground, the source of life. We are then able to rely on our roots for support and direction.
The whole care calendar thing is working incredibly well. It is always a nice surprise to see who signs up for each slot. Yesterday an incredibly distinguished visitor, Debra Sykes, stopped by for an evening visit. My vibration is still humming from her wonderful presence. It was refreshing to be around someone who is so knowledgeable regarding yoga, therapeutics, and life itself. We worked on several positions that would help me remain in alignment since I am spending so much time in a wheelchair and a bed. She also shared some props and a few instructions to open my body up to the shakti (energy). These adjustments should help expedite my healing process, since my body will be in proper alignment. Debra also shared her experience of my recurring vision (see previous blog post for details about my vision). She felt that sometimes God sends us a message, and her thoughts were that perhaps God was telling me to "get on with it", since I may have been "moving a little slow", so God took a sledgehammer and gave me a good whack in my lower back/pelvis area, just to move things along. I support this notion and it actually feels like there is some truth to it.
Its so fascinating to me that posture and breath are so important to our daily lives. The asanas in yoga are directly related to posture and breath, and the practice of yoga is to train the body and mind to remain in alignment. This got me thinking a little deeper, and I wondered- How many of us take time for ourselves to breathe consciously each day? How much time is devoted to this? And how much of our day is focused on healing? It could be healing a wounded relationship before a scar appears, or healing the past, healing a mind drenched in negativity, or healing a body that needs some attention. With all of this in mind, how much time do you devote to healing? Of course, most recently, I have been devoting a lot of time to healing; although before the accident my answer would have been very little. Another interesting question, to me, is- How many of us allow ourselves to relax? I don't mean sitting on the couch and watching TV to relax, I mean fully connecting to our breath and just allowing our body to be calm, reaching a state of peace. For instance, yesterday I was practicing laying on my stomach. Its something that physical therapy suggested doing in order to allow my body to move in a slightly different position, particularly for blood flow and circulation. I was very tense as I rolled over onto my stomach, my breath was disjointed and fear was present until I remembered to breathe. What followed was a softening of my whole body, as if the breath melted away the fear and turned it into love. I even was able to practice some mini-cobras, without lifting my chest off the bed, strengthening my upper body and stretching my shoulders. The feeling this posture gave me was out of this world, I felt as if I could conquer anything in that moment.
One thing I have noticed is that I am more sensitive more in tune with my body than ever before. As I worked with Debra on inner/outer spiral, I could actually feel the mechanics of my body with precision. Following techniques of Anusara had been difficult in the past, as my mind would often yield to confusion, yet this time I could initiate the flow of energy with relative ease. This gives me hope that I will heal fully and be back living a fruitful life with even more abundance than before.
Its funny to be working with so many different physical therapists, since they all bring their own ideas to the table. The last one who visited me suggested I take everything really slow. I agree with this concept, although I understand the notion a little differently. What I hear, or what I think he means, is pay close attention to what your body is telling you in relation to the healing process.
This morning, I decided to relax after all of the movement yesterday. It feels good to honor what my body and mind need, or what they speak to me. That is what I will be up to. Come by and participate, when you can.
Lastly I will say that offering someone a piece of yourself is, quite simply, the greatest gift you can offer somebody else. So many of you have offered your thoughts, your time, your energy, gifts, and your love. For this I am eternally grateful. Thank you for sharing a part of yourself with me. It means the world to me.
In light and love,
andy
Here is the calendar and the link once again:
http://www.carecalendar.org/logon/67241
Password is 4479
I wish i could come visit you andino! -Sti
ReplyDeleteDefinitely Sti! It's awesome out here..
ReplyDelete