Friday, February 10, 2006

Fridays are hard

I was at yoga class today, you know, getting my body all limber and ready for the big day, and at the end, the final meditation, when we are meant to be clearing our minds and relaxing and being with our bodies, I got a bit too much with my body. But combined with an unclear mind. Which is bad, bad, bad news for me. Suddenly I noticed that it was just past 10am and it occurred to me that in exactly two weeks I will have already been operated on and be slowing coming to, with a big grog factor. My heart leapt into my throat and started pounding out the tune to Back in Black at full force. Sweet baby Jesus, this is not helping me become one with the carpet. Breath in, breath out, relax, r-e-l-a-x, RELAX! No, nothing seemed able to tune out the now faint strains of AC/DC in the background.

Anniversaries and pre-views. It is like my body remembers them or anticipates them. Some deep body memory or wisdom, it alerts me, asks me to pay attention. Even years out of chemotherapy, I will hit upon a day that is just another day, and my body is freaked out, scared, uptight, and well, nauseous. It makes no sense, there is no rational reason (recalling that I grew up in an academic household and so being rational, and reasonable for that matter, held a very high value). So I investigate (gee, seems like just referring to the academic perspective here has me now using words like investigate – what up with that?). Turns out it is the anniversary of the day I had chemo. It shouldn’t surprise me anymore. And maybe the anniversary part doesn’t, but the anticipation part, well dang, I just wish it wasn’t happening. My body can almost feel the needle enter my vein (am I really typing that??!?!), the cold whoosh of the new liquid pushing through it, the fine wire, the needle behind my breast (I don’t even want to picture how they accomplish that), and the incision. Maybe fainting is a way to relax myself. It shouldn’t be hard to try that under the circumstances.

Is it my creative mind, or my self-abusive nature that has me unable to stop thinking about it? Or could it be, like with basketball players picturing the winning hoop, I am walking myself through a successful procedure, so that when I am unconscious, my body will find its equilibrium easily. My body knows, it is wise. I have learned that over and over and over again. Mostly the hard way. But right now it seems that trusting it requires coming dangerously close to a mental precipice, inviting catastrophe. Is there an off switch for the brain? Not like I haven’t asked that question before, but for different reasons, and this one seems more important, useful, noble, all of the above. I just need it to stop. I need some peace. Mercy. Uncle. I give.

Father, into your hands, I command my spirit.


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