It was never my intention to have this turn into a journal. But after the first intense expectation of my imminent death I quickly ran out of dramatic expostulations. The intense desire to get my legacy down quick has clearly faded. So, what’s left to say, I ask myself. I am committed to writing day by day by day. What can keep this from becoming self absorbed navel gazing?
Well maybe that’s not really up to me to answer. Maybe it’s just up to me to keep on writing and, as they say, let the chips fall where they may.
That feels very bold to say.
This morning I had my third massage by a young woman who is intricately gifted in combining modalities and thereby reaching into historic memories and impressions held within my physical self. To put it very simply, she has found a source, maybe THE source, of the deeply painful experience that I currently endure. Essentially, when the upper half of my leg bones, and the ball of my hip joints, were severed and ground up and used to fuse my spine some 40 years ago, an important energy channel on each side of my body was interrupted. On the etheric level the consequence is that energy stagnates in my genital area, especially around my anus, having insufficient channel to pass on through my legs and feet. On the physical level I have very little left to sit on, and combined with the weight loss and the bone density loss natural to aging I’m putting enormous stress on my pelvis and tailbone. My arse is way to thin and my back is killing me.
She is compassionate, receptive, brave and creative as she finds ways to reveal and support me to release years of tortuous incidents that I have simply allowed myself to forget. In forgetting I have buried the rage, the grief, and the suckiness that comes from living in a victims stance unrevealed. Between us we are doing one hell of a lot of work as I lie on my bed.
The good news is, the hopeful news is that there are other channels, there are other openings. The good news is, the hopeful news is that there is space beyond grief and rage.
In the back surgery of 40 years ago I lost a part of my left frontal lobe due to infection and anoxia. I did not realise until today that I had vacated the area, in a spiritual sense. Today I have been welcomed back into approximately half of my brain and body. I have capacity that I abandoned more than half a life time ago.
My masseuse tells me that I’m not alone – that the majority of people walking around have abandoned large sections of their bodies as well. How odd and yet so obvious it is to realise that incomplete grieving leaves one outside of one’s own experience. No wonder we rely so much on our culture to tell us how to think and feel.
It still begs the question: “ how do I get a fatter butt?” Botox? Will OHIP pay for it?
I undergo waves of frustration – moment by moment nothing is right. And then again it’s all right again. I grasp at controlling and then letting go. And then grasp again and let go again, over and over again. There is no stopping it. It just goes on and on.
Tomorrow is the big test. I’m going in without a single question answered. Every attempt to have the “doctor” who is in charge of this test know that I’m not a typical person and also know that so many other people depend on him and the answers he might give - every effort for 3 weeks has failed. What ever happens tomorrow is a water shed and we’re going over Niagra Falls without a barrel. God save us!
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