Hello loves. Last week I had a post-op checkup to see how my back is healing from the surgery I had to fix a compression fracture in my lumbar vertebrae two weeks ago. Easy peasy, basically. I’m a quick healer. My body is a miracle! I’m not supposed to lift things or bend or twist for awhile, so I’m listening in to my body for instruction on how and how much to move. It’s already way better than it was. Modern medicine rocks.
We found a neurologist for my brain issues (seizures). Selection criteria for doctors include openness to a range of medical perspectives, understanding that we view doctors as highly skilled and trained experts but ultimately WE make decisions about my care, and willingness to hug me. The hugging thing is super important. I love hugs.
I have epilepsy. I was in denial about this, but there it is. I’m trying not to overthink this yet but I might never drive again. I definitely can’t fly an airplane (ahahaha!) so let’s add that to the list of Things I Can Legally No Longer Do, along with giving blood. Oh well! There is so much in life that I CAN do.
It wasn’t until not very long ago that I always had the sense that life was one huge bundle of possibilities. Anything was possible, it just hadn’t happened yet. Visit India? Learn how to scuba dive? Act in a Broadway play? Those things all seemed theoretically possible even if they were improbable. I was always holding out hope. Now I’m narrowing the range of things I actually want to put my energy into. Not just the things I think I can attain — that’s a recipe for frustration and never really doing anything satisfying — but the things that really matter.
In other words, “limitations” like cancer actually have set me free.
Having seizures was kind of fun for me (and understandably incredibly frightening to my beloved, plus they can be life threatening). Seizure Land was a magical world for me. One day in particular I had near-constant dejá vu though I didn’t know it at the time. I guess that’s a feature of that kind of seizure (temporal lobe) — having mystical experiences but being unaware that anything unusual is happening. The day I had all that dejá vu, I gleefully texted people to share the magic with them, not knowing anything was wrong and that my brain was literally seizing up. Hours later I was in the ER having an ecstatic and literally orgasmic (!!) near-death experience after an ambulance ride.
Brains are so awesome. I love my brain.
(A whole lot of things that earlier in my life I idly thought might be interesting to experience one day far in the future (cancer, seizures, among many others) have come to pass. We do create our lives! Be careful what you wish for.)
For days around when I was having seizures, I was in an altered state. I couldn’t remember things, often just minutes after they happened. My beloved would ask me a question and I’d have a blank expression, unable to answer even though to myself I was still “in there.” I don’t really remember any of this.
What I do remember is what I think of as the world-between-worlds. Was it the Afterlife? (if that exists) Was it the Land of Dreams? I don’t know for sure. But I do know I saw ten thousand years of history with my beloved. And I know I had a choice to go into that magic world or to stay here in this physical reality. Staying here with my beloved was going to be much more fun.
So I stayed. Here I am. A miracle, like you.
There was a condition to be met for me to stay.
The condition is this: I have to live my purpose. And I need the strength and energy necessary to do that, which means there’s no room for cancer. Cancer served its purpose beautifully and I’m thankful for all that I’ve learned and all the ways I’ve grown, but now to truly live my purpose my body must have access to and channel huge quantities of energy.
It’s already happening.
I have already changed in many ways, deep inside. And now I give my body support and love so it will catch up and become strong and healthy. All things in good time.
I am a miracle. You are a miracle. I am thankful for your presence in this world. Together we are creating change, even if sometimes it doesn’t seem like it. I love you.