Again

I used to play the above game, Moon Cresta, when I was just a young undergrad. Today I happened upon a YouTube video of it. In the era of games I really can't play well (I haven't even saved the princess yet in Mario One), itt was nice to see dear old Moon Cresta again, in a time when my health has yet again given me challenges. Sort of like the visualization of "good" cells getting rid of the ornery ones.

Still, I am back at work, happy to see my students and ready to start a new year, however creakily I am doing it right now. I went through months of recovery from pneumonia and other respiratory problems and am now recovering from a life-threatening asthma attack last week (ambulance, hospital, intense IV prednisone and a long high-dose course of prednisone also). I am grateful, inordinately so, to be alive right now. Each day is precious, and for me, each day is Zen as well. As a Buddhist, perhaps the images on a long-ago video screen may be in appropriate (I took Dharma vows which include nonviolence), but the little cartoonish images of meteors and rockets are a bit silly and goofy, and so I allow even this little thing from long ago to be part of my healing. Healing is merely the willingness to forgive and invite goodness in, after all, and anything can symbolize it. The personal symbol is something I really like to explore and talk about as a professor, too--we will be doing a lot of that as I work with my new batch of folks this year.

And grateful for learning the preciousness of the moment, the real life, this gift of having my footsoles fastened to the earth a little while more. One day at a time.


A monk asked Chao-chou, "I have just entered the monastery: please give me some guidance."
Chao-chou said, "Have you eaten your rice gruel?"
The monk said,"Yes, I've eaten."
Chao-chou said, "Then go wash your bowl."

Thoughts While Dancing With Kali

I am doing better but am saddened by the reactions of certain people as I endure high-dose steroids to control asthma. The emotional side effects, which are hard to manage at the level I am taking them, seem to be all about the effect it has on THEM (I mean, "expectations are preprogrammed resentments," but sometimes serious illness in people do a great deal to show the mettle of others). The irony is that the most difficult reactions from people (re:: emotional side effects from a drug I have to take to save my life right now) are from the sector of the people who call themselves the most compassionate and groove on saving the environment. It's crucial to be dedicated to solving our horrific environmental problems, but to me it is hypocrisy to cry over the plight of dolphins, spout off about how compassionate you are and how you see the divine spark in everyone, plaster your house with spiritual books and icons--and then treat poorly someone in one's life who is ill and going through medical treatment.

I have an action plan of trying to stay in calm quiet rooms and stuff right now, doing quiet organizing tasks because predisone makes my brain want to organize things (my Itunes playlists never looked so great). I find that I feel worse if I try to go out and do anything but very minimal tasks. The world will be there when I get back, I tell myself.

I think that one problem with illnesses like lupus and asthma is that they are periodic. There are months, even years, I can feel perfectly well and then something will strike out of the blue. Perhaps that is the one thing that is frigtening to others--that a periodic illness which emerges like a dragon from a cave from time to time is a reminder of mortality. People do not want to be reminded of this, especially people who should by this age be understanding that when people get sick, it is because bodies get sick and sometimes the medical treatments needed to control it can be difficult. When a loved one is ill, it is a chance to really exercise love and compassion--and boundaries, yes, but not to make the other person feel bad.

I was also reminded by a dear young friend to stop saying negative things about my treament, such as saying it's like being on speed (which I have never taken, of course; I just assume that because predisone feels like I have had 400 espressos all at once)--that to say negative things about the treatment is to put up some resistance to taking it in. So I am calling predisone "dancing with Kali" instead.

The truth is, we will all have to deal with health issues on some level, whether it is in a lover, spouse, friend, parent, or child, and when someone is seriously ill, as I am right now, it is a chance to exercise the concept that "we are here to awaken from the illusion of our separateness." When your loved one is "dancing with Kali," it is important I think to remember some good slogans such as "this too shall pass" and that healing is a journey.

very slow recovery

My lungs continue to heal; I feel like a person who has fought a forest fire without oxygen or a mask. I am extremely limited in what I can do this week and will not be returning to dance this week, and very limited next. I have had my immune system knocked out by high-dose steroids and so am trying not to be around people too much this week.

But June 7th was my birthday and I am happy about that. I love being in my 50s and have no problem with it. But I do hope that my health improves! I have come to contemplate breathing as the force of life itself, and am grateful when it comes with ease for me.

asthma again

My dear readers, please be patient with me as I post about my ongoing struggles with asthma. I had two bouts in the last few days which required trips to the hospital, high amounts of IV steroids, breathing treatments, more adjustment of my meds, and a long-term steroid course to try and get my lungs to eliminate the inflammation. Right now, I can no longer handle tobacco smoke, petroleum-based perfumes from anything, including shampoo, housecleaning products (hurrah for Dr. Bronner's soaps and baking soda), or basically any artifical scent or fumes, and cannot go outside for more than about fifteen minutes because even going outside triggers the attacks. I can no longer work or sleep in a room without a HEPA air purifier, so I have ordered one for my home and my bedroom and will probably get one for my office at work, too.

My doctor has upgraded (downgraded?) my asthma to "chronic". Hopefully my new meds will help. I cannot continue on the prednisone doses I am receiving without eventual long-term damage in other ways.

I keep hoping things will get better. I used to love things like perfumes, and now only use essential oils--which are much nicer and actually feel very healing to me.

But on top of it all--hey, I got two classes for next semester, English 1A. BTW, it's not a downgrade from Intro to Creative Writing--the department rotates the class amongst the faculty, and I'll likely have another turn next year.

I guess my thought for today is--no one and nothing lives forever. I did sense a strange shift in me in the last few days, that it was time to stop acquiring things because I can take none of this with me, that I at least need to really consider the things I add to my life. It feels deeply appropriate, actually. We take nothing, not even our bodies, on the great adventure. And that is okay with me. And whether it is true or not that some great change is coming to me, there is no question it will arrive one day--so I remind myself that every day is a jewel and a gift, and I can learn to dance with joy on the edge of the abyss. In Tarot, the Fool who steps off the cliff into the unknown often is depicted carrying a white rose he has received from the Shekinah; she gave it to him at the crest of the Tree of Life in the Garden of Eden. It has always been my favorite image on the card. The Fool is always depicted as smiling before he steps into a reality that is unseen, but can be trusted on an intuitive level.

Namaste!

Better

My latest brush with asthma and, unfortunately, mortality this time around was quite sobering, to say the least. I spent my spring break struggling with asthma, as I wrote in my last entry. Unfortunately, despite my doctor's best efforts, every major attack is worse; this last bout was the most protracted I've had in my life so far. I can no longer tolerate cigarette smoke, artificial fragrances, and most types of incense, and large amounts of paper fiber and feathers. I now have a prescription for prednisone that I need to keep on hand at all times.
I am following a gluten and dairy-free diet religiously. The latter seems to be helping.

It is sobering and yet--who in the world isn't going to deal with their mortality at some point? Mine has been in my face since I was diagnosed with lupus in 1993.
I think the point is to continue to live unafraid in the face of anything.

on the nature of breathing

My spring break (and actually all semester) has been taken up with fighting asthma. Asthma and lung problems were a primary symptom when I was diagnosed with lupus back in the early 90s and it seems all of this is becoming gradually a bit worse--overall, unfortunately, my illness is sadly a bit worse these days, not surprising given the amount of years I have been with it, and I am going through a course of prednisone. Cortisone knocks the illness out, but at 60 mg and above, I seem to turn into a werewolf. I am glad to be on the lower dosages now, where I feel relatively normal. I should be off prednisone this week. My doctors do not yet know if there is a problem with lupus bothering my lungs as well in some new or different way. I will be having a full pulmonary workup and a chest x-ray at the local hospital this week. I hate descending into the nether world of hospitals and doctors again, but it is my Persephone sort of existence at times.

I truly could not breathe well this week and realize what a gift it is, that breath is truly the source of life itself. A friend taught me a mantra and breathing exercise to use for calming and for reminding myself to take deep breaths, the "sohum" meditation (the link on this day's title is to an article by Deepak Chopra on this). It is very simple and calming, regardless of whether one believes in things spiritual.

I was also given in the ER last week the following curious device, called an acapella.

It literally gives a mini-massage to my lungs, basically, shaking loose some of the less desirable stuff that my nonproductive cough will not bring up on its own. It greatly helps in clearing my lungs out. Breathing is really not an option!! :)

It is very funny and is now labeled "the pickle." Or the "ocarina," or the "pickle ocarina."

As an aside to all this, my son Riff, home for a few days while moving from one place to the other, said that he dreamed last night we were walking up a hill, and heard the sound of a wild pig being killed in the dark woods; out of the woods walked a beautiful wolf, who had dispatched the pig. The wolf is my totem spirit (and ironically, lupus means "wolf" in Latin), and so I felt this was a positive image that my body and spirit are strong and will get over what I am experiencing now. It is just a bit of a "dark forest."

I do feel I am going to be okay and that this is a bit of a setback only in my journey to live a full and happy life despite my disability. A hidden disability is often very perplexing, especially one such as mine, which waxes and wanes. When I am reminded to slow down, I am learning to do so, to accept what is right now, to do what I can within this one day only, not worry too terribly much about the future, and above all, slow down and breathe.

Breathe

Even though I have been dealing with lupus and fibromyalgia since late 1993, I am not always as mindful of my health as I ought to be. I have been pushing myself far too hard this semester, got the flu, and was, afterwards, ignoring a most ominous symptom: I was having trouble breathing for weeks after the flu, coughing, and NOT checking whether my asthma might be acting up (I am supposed to check this via a peak flow meter every day). I just ignored my symptoms and ended up in the hospital on Monday, March 3rd, with an acute asthma attack. I had to cancel class for the very first time, in all the time I have been teaching at the alma mater.

They gave me a breathing treatment, walloped me with 60 mg. of prednisone for five days, and (followed by a gradual weaning-off steriods), and gave me new inhaler prescriptions (i have two, an Advair "purple disc" and an albuterol inhaler). Four years ago, I had a massive asthma attack, much worse than this one, and had the same hospital routine--only my oxygen levels were much lower in the 2004 incident, and I felt the effects on my body for months afterward. For many weeks, I was so depleted and weak that I couldn't do a single sit-up. I don't know if it was due to lowered oxygen levels or steroids, but it was awful. This time is better (partially because I didn't wait for three hours to go to the hospital, like I did in 1994)--I have some loss of strength, but I took a "gentle yoga" class yesterday, mostly sitting and stretching, and am basically walking through my dance steps in other classes. I am really not back up to speed, though.

This incident made me remember how important lungs are to the body, how vital it is to be able to breathe properly. I am reminded how awful the side effects of prednisone are for me, even though they are performing a critical healing step in taking my lung inflammation down. I am reminded that if I don't consciously slow down, my body will take the opportunity to do so, and not always in a gentle manner!

My yoga class was all about breathing yesterday--it's funny how these sort of little synchronicities can happen. I was just happy to be able to move my body, no matter how lacking it felt in terms of strength and flexibility. Just taking a good, deep breath these days is wonderful to me.

This has nothing to do with breathing, but I have a garden announcement: After many years, my lilac is finally going to bloom! It has at least ten flower buds on it.
Slowly, I begin to plan my garden again, a cycle that I pray will recur for me, for as long as I can toss a few seeds into the ground!