I don't CARE!! or do I???

I seem to be so detached from everything these days, I'm kinda nervous.

A pregnant friend asked me if it was hard to give Molly to my parents.

"Nope.", I replied rather too quickly. "In fact, I'm kinda relieved to not have the responsibility."

I got together with a groups of midwives the other day for peer review, and as we went around the room saying our names and where our practice is located, everyone also stated how many children and grandchildren they have. I was feeling a bit out of place at first, but I stopped over thinking it and just stated the truth proudly, "I am choosing to not have children as I feel I do not have the support needed to raise them."

Since I have consciously chosen to 'work easy', I have been exploring dangerous territories for an overachiever. I am keeping my work load light on purpose and have a lot of free time to heal my aching body, rest and catch up on past paperwork. I contently spend a lot of time at home alone, perfectly happy as I lay a new foundation for myself of how to be in the world without being overwhelmed. Seven years after moving into my home, I have finally started in on the small plot of land in front and am doing this thing called 'gardening'.

I am exploring what I used to judge as a 'mediocer' life, and I'm finding out that I have been quite the fool in my thinking!

I went to visit a friend who also spends a lot of time at home meditating and making sure she is not constantly overwhelmed by life. She has a cat that she has loved for 10 years. And I thought to myself, "Why don't I get a cat? I'd like a bit of companionship. They are so low maitenance and offer so much love."

So I began researching with honesty what I need in a cat, what I could offer and what I could responsibily take care of.

And I found her up for adoption. Scarlette is an older Spyhnx female. She fit all my criteria. No shedding (she is hairless), cuddly and loving (the breed is known for sleeping under the covers), more dog like than cat like (they are said to be almost human in their talking), doesn't scratch the furniture and is litter box trained.

And I went to visit her. Yes, she is very very cute and excentric (think female Mr. Bigglesworth).

I loved petting her velvet like skin. But, if I'm going to be really honest with myself, my heart did not 'gush'.

Why can't I connect? I love animals... so why can't I feel that intoxicating love?

Breathe.

So, I go through the motions, as I am one of many people who are being interviewed to take this old lady home.

When I get home I entertain the thoughts of what it would be like to have a cat in my small 10x12 home.

"Well," I say to myself sternly with the look of a 60 year old IMB executive, "I could sacrifice a small corner of the bathroom for her litter box. The smell won't be too bad if I clean it everyday. She can't go outside, and is so old, she probably won't try to escape out the french doors while I leave them open in the summer. She has to be bathed twice a week because of her skin condition, but I have time to do that. And if I ever travel, I'm sure one of my pet loving friends will take her for the week...." On and on and on.

What the fuck am I doing?

I'm cutting down on my responsibilities because I have a clear message from the universe that I need to baby myself. I'm working part time to so I can explore what working 'easy' is like. I'm putting myself into the unknown world of ease, and what am I doing? I'm trying to create MORE responsibilities! MORE distractions!! MORE overwelm!!

This is NUTS! Why am I wanting to adopt a cat that needs to be bathed twice a week and can not be put on continual feed because she will overeat? Why am I trying to convince myself (rather well I must say) that I will be a better person and heal faster if I adopt an animal?

Sigh.

What is wrong with me? Why do I so not care about loving another human being or animal?

I drop in.

I go to the place where I am outside looking in on my own question.

I remember telling people with complete conviction the 'plan': "Of course I am going to have children. How could I ever be a good midwife/teach others about parenting if I don't experience childbirth/parent a child?"

I touch into the sadness in myself that feels incomplete as a woman if I do not birth and/or raise a child.

I taste the guilt of the box I have assembled as to what a 'loving, good-girl' looks like.

And I start to see that I have created a concept of "a loving human being" that could only be true if I prove it to the world by having a child, boyfriend or pet.

I am being caught red handed with the belief that only a person who is 'attached' can be a caring person.

I allow myself to sit with my feelings as I hold on to the last threads of those identities.

Fast forward to Monday, peer review for Acupuncture where I hangout with an old teacher of mine, Yvonne Farrell. Yvonne is the reason I made it through Acupuncture school. I used to come to her as a big wet sloppy mess after failing my intro to herbs exam. She'd look me straight in the eyes and declare, "Elizabeth, you are a healer. Now, go back home and study harder so you can pass your state board exams to become a licensed healer."

I'm still sitting in the group half heartedly, as my joints are aching and my body is in pain when I move.

Another student has asked a question and the conversation steers itself towards the taoist subject of detachment and healing.

"Detachment does not mean you care less, it actually means you care more, because it (the healing) is not about you!" Says Yvonne.

I am like a bell that has been rung. I feel her words reverberate within me.

Could I finally be in the place of all those meditation teachers on Oprah? Is this what 'they' have been talking about in yoga class? You mean I don't have to stop with my weekly manicures to experience 'detachment'?

I get an email from The Cat's foster mom explaining how they have given her to a person who works with animals on a daily basis and can work with her sensitive skin needs.

I can feel the relief of the responsibility being taken out of my hands, as I a feel a whole new world of freedom and caring open up in front of me.

Are you working hard?

My dad and I are shooting the shit and he asks, "So, are you working hard?"

I take in his words and reply, "No. Actually, I'm not."

He's a bit thrown. "Well, are you working?"

And I start to really feel the depth of how 'working' and 'hard' have always gone hand in hand in my life. I'm not sure if it is because of my Lineage or just how I was raised as an American. But, whatever it is, I'm so OVER IT!

I'm not talking about being irresponsible. I'm just talking about moving out of the 'salmon swimming upstream' paradigm - where work, hard and money are all in the same breath and into the downstream flow - where I just might float in an inner tube for a while and enjoy the ride.

As I sink deeper into the 'pause' I have created in my life, I settle deeper into the unknown, and feel the beginning edges of the potency that is so abundant- yet so foreign. I start to get a sense of how the unknown is not dark and scary, but a dark, fertile, spacious ground for ALL possibilities - which I humbly acknowledge is way beyond anything that I could create.

As I take in his question I feel the truth of my response, "Yes, I am working. But, I'm not working hard anymore. I'm working easy."

A Survival 'do-over'

I have returned from my trip to the East Coast and finally feel like I have space and time for me - something that I have not had in quite a while.

Since my diagnosis, I have been crazy busy navigating the heavy hitting, toxic treatments: chemo, surgery & radiation. It wasn't like I didn't have time to take care of me, but I was always taking care of myself as an immediate reaction to a treatment - getting through the toxic treatments in a healthy way, with the health being the focus.

As I explain this all to my brother, he responds back, "Oh, you were thrown back into survival mode."

OMG! I have was so deep 'in it' that I didn't even realize that I was back in that place again! And at that moment I realized I had been given a 'do-over'.

Instead of doing survival mode they way I used to in the past: manipulation, denial, blinding emotional reactions, drama, disassociation, getting angry at myself for 'not doing it right' and restrictive control, I got a chance to "do" survival over - and this time I did it by creating new choices for myself and did not let myself drown in the huge waves.

Before I even began, I knew what 'healthy' support and 'dysfunctional' support looked like. I carved the path of health within the dysfunction by making sure I was always well supported with healthy support. Even when I perceived dysfunctional support, my 'no' was honored, which transmuted the dysfunctional support healthy. I did not allow myself to isolate, go into a trauma 'freeze' or have huge overwhelming feelings without naming them to others (or writing them out) and then asking for more support. I was adamant about remaining conscious about all my choices (even when I choose to take disassociating drugs). I never blame or shamed myself for doing something 'wrong' - because I never did. I took responsibility for all my choices. I trusted my intuition. I continued to love myself even in the midst of the worst storm.

I trusted what is true for me and my unique journey.

And from this place I learned compassion for the dysfunctional support in my past, and what forgiveness for myself and others really feels like from the inside out.

I have learned humility. I have learned to walk the coals with grace.

I worked hard.

I rocked it!

No wonder why I'm exhausted.

The aftermath of all the treatments has left me tired. My joints creak and sometimes there is all over body ache. When I get up from a sitting position, I start to do my 'old lady from Florida' routine. I'm not sure if this is from the chemo, the fact that I am still menopausal or the herceptin.

I listen to what my body has to say and hear: "rest" and "nourishment".

So, I practice what I preach by staying inside. I'm limiting my social engagements, I'm only working part time, I try to be in bed by 9pm, and I'm spend the days quietly reading on the sofa.

I'm not interested in sugar and dream of fresh juices. I'm very clear about what I don't want (meat) and what I do want (raw foods) and let my body guide me.

Because the Herceptin (every 3 weeks as and IV until Feb 2010) and Tamoxifen (a pill every day for 5 years) work differently than the past drugs, I've been given the 'thumbs up' by my alternative support team to start a gentle homeopathic cleanse that will get the heavy toxins out of my system, but will not interfere with the current drugs. I hope it will clear out the last of my neuropathy and body aches.

Sometimes I'm concerned because I don't have the same 'drive' to do anything anymore that I used to. I don't want to change the world. I don't want to teach what I know. I don't want to educate others about childbirth choices. I don't want to do much, but rest.

Can I get paid to gaze at my navel? Can I get paid to read books and nap? Can I get paid to write witty updates on Facebook?

Because I have chosen to go back to work part time, I have carved out a luxury that most people do not have within our masculine "go-Go- GO!" society: time to rest, go within, nourish and heal.

I observe myself at work holding space in a very different way. I feel clear, and I know exactly what to do, even if I have never had the experience before.

A client of mine who is birthing her baby at home, is pushing out the baby's head, when my assistant and I notice that the head does not extend fully out from perineum. A true shoulder dystocia. My body and hands move as though I have been a midwife for eons. I know exactly what to do. I have tapped into a place that I think can not be "me", yet it is who I am and have been all along. The baby emerges with the support of my hands, gracefully with no drama, no trauma.

I can feel the hormones going crazy again.... surges in my libido are followed by long moments of staring into space trying to find momentum.

I pray for help into the unknown, "Please, God, Jesus, Buddha, Abraham, Allah....somebody??? help me! my body hurts and I don't like it." I mourn out loud to my angels, "My passion is gone and I don't know how to move forward without it!"

I breath deeply into my quiet time and I dream.

I dream of something very different. I dream that I am holding an infant. It is definitely a boy, with a blond, bowl like haircut and am show how it resembling my grandmother's hair (my past) and also my nephews hair (my future).

I witness this infant being held close to a body. And I realize that this body is me. And I am hold a child. My child. A son.

I sweetly sing in his ear. I coo to him. I gaze at him.

We speak a gentle, soft language together.

My heart is slowly opening to him.

I wake up feeling different, dancing on the edge of tears .

And I know now I have been given a 'do-over' not just to how I navigate survival, but to my inner, masochistic masculine self.

Like the post partum mom who has just been through a huge life changing event, my job is to stay in, rest, nourish myself and my baby - and continue to stay in that sweet, gentle newborn rhythm.

I hold myself close and let the gentle tears fall.

I find the places in myself where I am scared, because all I know in the world is how to work from a place of the dysfunctional, aggressive, fast paced, high energy masculine ways where "I know" everything. And I feel the place where I am attached to my masochistic wound as unhealthy as it is - because the new way of 'not knowing' and being gentle and spacious to myself is so foreign.

And I make a choice. But this time I don't leap into the unknown. I'm done with the hard way, I really want to do things in a loving and easy way.

This time, like a cat licking her wounds clean, I curl up on myself, hold myself gently and rest. Because I am not moving around so much, I pull off the band aid to reveal the gash that needs a bit of ease, love and space to heal. I allow my wounds from cancer and all her toxic therapies to get some air.

From this gentle, sweet, slow place, I am present.

I stay put,
but I keep hearing,
that within this stillness,
I am moving forward.

Radiation is over, so why don't I feel different?

Radiation ended a few weeks ago, and I haven't written anything because I'm kinda bored with the story of cancer these days and I don't feel particularly different.

So, I am done. Yes and No.

I'm done with the heavy hitters - yucky chemo, in patient surgery & radiation. But I still have to go to cedars every 3 weeks until January 2010 for herceptin, this summer I'll be having out- patient cosmetic surgery on the new breasts (I'm getting nipples! yeah!) and 5 years of endocrine therapeutic drugs orally every day.

The week that I ended my radiation I also had a round of herceptin. Knowing I had 3 weeks of being 'Cedar-free' I high tailed it out of California and headed East to visit family.

New York on a good week for me is tiring (I tend to get overstimulated & overwhelmed there). I knew that I would go and not be heavily resourced the way I am here in California, but choose to go and not complain, because being with my sister, meeting my new nephew and visiting with friends out weighted everything else.

I won't bore you with highlights of my trip, but I did get to hang with Molly... and my nephew is particularly cute!

Sometime around my 10th day there my sister turned to me, "So, are you looking forward to going home on Monday?"

I looked at her curiously and thought, "Huh. I know I'm tired from being in New York and miss my fresh juices; but, I really haven't given it a thought."

I'm not wishing I was somewhere I'm not. I'm not avoiding what I'm feeling. I'm not projecting myself into the future as a way to feel better now.

Sleeping on the pull out sofa isn't the most comfortable place in the world, but I'm not complaining.

And I have no regrets about spending my vacation time with my family- as apposed to the beaches of Costa Rica.

I'm the same person who spent her vacation time with her mom in the hospital (my sister and I went to Connecticut to support her through a hip surgery) and the same person who hangs out reading on the dock of a bay at my Auntie's house.

The person who feels assaulted from the noises of New York's busy streets is the same person who enjoys a huge lobster Clam Bake with a six pack of Stella.

I am the same person now in NYC and the same person who will be flying back to LA.

Both the good and the bad are happening to me and I'm doing my job - making sure I do not go into overwhelm with whatever is being served up in the moment.

I'm currently living my life as the essence of me, who doesn't change based on what's around me, while being able to be present with her feelings and be okay with those feelings.

And that is when I realized how much I have changed.

In its own way, cancer is like having a birthday. On the day you don't normally feel different, but a few weeks/months/years down the road it hits you that you are actually a bit wiser.

"Radiation On, Radiation Off"

I have settled into a world of simplicity.

My days start when I wake up and then progress into Radiation at 10:30am, every weekday for 6 weeks. I'm usually exhausted by 6:30pm. They say that is a side effect of radiation: body exhaustion.

Everything centers around radiation.

I don't resist it anymore, it is more that I witness myself and how I journey through it.

Sometimes I arrive early and they take me early.

Sometimes I arrive on time and they are running late.

One day I arrive chipper. Another I arrive tired. Still another I arrive with humor.

I arrive on my cell phone talking to a mom in labor, or the insurance company, or my mother.

Every once in a while I settle into the waiting room in my blue gown and start typing away on the computer as though I'm sitting at my office desk while I wait to be paged for my turn.

I have two days where I call from the bed of a mom who has just given birth at home to let them know I'm at work. I will definitely not be coming to the 10:30 appointment today, is there an afternoon appointment available?

Another day I call them at 8:00am to see if they can take me ASAP coz I wanna join the kids at the school assembly at the time I normally have to be at Cedars.

Weekends are weird for me, coz I actually have 2 days off! I haven't had 2 days off from something in a long time.

There was that one time where I was on time, lieing in the cold room with my body in position - left arm raised, left breast exposed - and the machine decided not to work. It needed to be re-calibrated. I was given a warm blanket and lied there for an extra 15 minutes as I watched the fingers of the machine tic, tic, tick away.

I've been doing this for 5 weeks straight now. Lately I stare into space at home, watching myself allow the minutes to pass by, when I should be gettin' a groove on and driving to Cedars. One after the other, time ticks forward and I'm still sitting. I'm not wondering or thinking anything. All I do is make myself late for the appointment.

My left breast is starting to get discolored with radiation burn. Just like a sunburn, it will go away sometime in the future. I slather the cream on religiously 4 times a day. Sometimes I forget because I'm at a birth, or enjoying my time and it gets a bit pinker.

The guy at the Juice Bar knows me know, coz I go every day after radiation. He just says, "The usual?".

I nod and continue on my day, just like everyone else in the world, not knowing what is around the corner or how I'll feel about it in the moment.

In the words of Mr. Miyagi from The Karate Kid, "Not everything is as it seems".

really letting go

After my surgery, before radiation, I started to experience a new phenomenon within myself.

I have done enough priestess/goddess/newmoon/magical rituals to know the words of 'letting go'

"I let go of hatred"... "I let go of greed"... "I let go of jealousy"... "I let go of...."

But to experience it first had within my daily life, with something I truly love, is new.

I started a new business last year around this time. As the company started to really rock n'roll, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. As readers of my blog know, Ana Paula Markel, my business partner, was not only gracious with our business, but also opened her family doors to me while I went through my chemotherapy. I lived in her house while she 'doula-ed' me out of the 'old man from florida' routine and into a functioning human.

Somewhere around mid-January, post chemo, post surgery, I had a real opportunity to look at my current life. I realized that I still have a part time job called 'cancer', another part time job called, "healing Lizzi", a third job called "understanding my medical bills", and another job called "work" - to help pay for the first three part time jobs.

Any down time I had was being put towards having a semblance of a social life, and I knew deep within me that I did not have enough energy to give to birthing this new company we had created together too.

At the same time I started to realize that my dog of one year, Molly - a show quality, high strung, rescue cocker spaniel - needed more attention than I could actually give her. Molly would start to get on my nerves because she is so full on dependent.

I was actually starting to resent her.

Molly is not a bad dog, she just needs full time 24/7 attention. And I had to admit that I am not Wonder Woman, and I can't give her what she needs.

It did not take a lot of dawdling or 'talking it out' to find clarity. Neither Molly nor Ana Paula are "wrong". It is about me realizing that if I keep Molly, it would be selfish of me to do so. If I was to really put Molly first, I would have to find her a home that would put Molly first. If I really and truly love Bini Birth, the company that Ana Paula and I created together, if I want Bini to grow, I need to step down as 'parent' and fully embrace the place of 'auntie'. If I am able to really love myself and admit the truth of what I can and can't do, it is best not only for me but also Bini & Molly.

And with Molly - well, that was a no brainer. Within moments of my dad taking care of her while I was in the hospital after my January surgery, I could see that she really was not my dog, she was his dog. And since I shipped Molly back to them in Connecticut, a whole new world has opened up for my parents and me. We have something in common that we all love to talk about: Molly and her daily escapades! And Molly is where she needs to be, the center of the universe of human beings who are home a lot.

Molly is no longer a responsibility that drains me, but a funny cocker spaniel that practically speaks english! And Bini Birth is no longer a company that needs my energy to grow, but a company that has my effortless support and approval to make sure it does grow!

Letting go is no longer a letting go of 'the bad qualities' of something outside or within me. It has become a process of letting go of my addictions to being an overachiever, or wonder woman. Letting go has become a process of loving myself first, and then really loving the other and seeing what is best for the other in relationship to me. Because this way of letting go is about embracing myself with love, it is easy to embrace the other with love. By letting go of these two responsibilities I have created more space for love, healing and grace in my life.

I have not failed, I'm just playing another round of 'whose the grown-up', and I'm amazed at how gracefull I have become at playing that game.

Radiation has begun.

Radiation has begun, and already I have missed the first two days due to a birth. Technically I am supposed to me there everyday at the same time, but the team there is making an exception to the rules for me, as babies can’t be predicted or rushed.

I arrive for my first appointment and am greeted by the cheery Radiation technologist.

“Good morning Elizabeth. How was the birth?”

I’m on the edge of exploding because I can’t believe I am really going to do this every day for 6 weeks.

“Long, but really good. “ I reply sweetly.

“You know, missing those days was okay, as they were your first. But, once radiation begins, you will need to find a way to get here everyday.”

She might as well have just taken a knife and jabbed it into my heart and twisted it around.

Grumble, Grumble, Grumble.

Because I’m not good with filters I blurt out, “I’m not happy about being here.”

“Oh, but it is good for you to take care of yourself”.

I look at her as though she has 10 eyes are reply gritting my teeth, “Yes”, while I think:

“Fuck you. Take care of myself? I took care of myself and I still got cancer!”



“So, Lizzi, the radiation began, yes? How is it?” inquires my mom.

I do everything I can to not leash my angry tiger out on her and be responsible for my feelings.

“I hate it, mom." I'm feeling mildly zen.

"It is a pain in the fucking ass!" Okay, I'm owning my anger, but I can feel the boil. Careful Lizzi, don't project onto her, she did nothing wrong, don't pick a fight....

"Everyday I have to drive to Cedars, find parking, undress, change into an ugly blue gown, wait my turn with a beeper, lie down on the machine, have my 10 minute turn of radiation, take the gown off, slather cream onto my breasts, get dressed, get the parking validated and then start my day! A 10 minute appointment is a 60 minute inconvenience!” I'm in a full on animated complaint now.

My mom is at a loss as to what to say.



My friends want to know if it hurts.

"No, it doesn't hurt. There is a warm heat coming out of the machine and it makes a loud buzzing noise. I go into a deep meditation and imagine that intense rays of LovingKindness are coming through me via the machine. Sometimes I visualize golden rays, other time it is a rainbow of fairy dust." I'm still calm and a bit blase.

"It isn't the heat, it is the cold that gets me. It is so fuckin' cold in that basement room, that if I had nipples, they would be standing at attention!" Uh-oh, I'm starting to boil....

And I can't leave it alone. I proceed to roll down that hill. "And another thing...I have to be there the same fuckin’ time, everyday, 5 days a week, for 6 weeks! You know me, I can’t even plan my vacations more than a few weeks in advance, and now I have to plan where I am going to be every day? It sucks ass!”

I have left no rooms for my friends to squeeze in a word while I dump and vent.



I tell anyone who will listen how pissed off that not only do I have to do this everyday, but I also have to slather on special cream from France 4 times a day to make sure I don't get radiation burns!

I witness myself with my pissy attitude and suffocating complaints and realize that I have become my father!

I spent a good amount of my life rebelling against his favorite words of wisdom, "There are some things in life that you don't want to do, but have to do."

And here I am, full on in that quote, backed up into a corner. I am not able to control how this happens. And, I am choosing to not run away from this feeling even though I don't like it.

So, I surrender into my anger and frustration.

I go to a prenatal with one of my clients who is pregnant with baby number three and has become a dear friend.

“So, the radiation began. Is it going well?”

I loose the plot.

“I feel like I am a caged animal who is stuck behind the bars of this daily commitment. The last time I had to be anywhere on a regular, daily basis was 12 years ago with my last corporate job!”

She looks innocently at me in day 5 of her podromal labor and sighs, “I so get it sister." And yes, she does because prodromal labor is labor that goes on and on and on... in general it is not painful, but a pain in the ass because it can not be controlled or predicted. It tries on ones level of patience. She then chirps up and says, "Well, why don’t you turn this into a ritual. If you have to be doing the same thing every day, why not add a little something to it and treat yourself to a nice tea afterwards?”

What? is she serious? and deprive myself of some well deserved complaining?

Oy. She is right. And I am exhausting myself with all this complaining, because I can always choose to not do the radiation. But I know that choice would only be made as a way to 'run away' from this yicky feeling and my perception that when I can't 'will' things to go 'my way', I have to surrendered my freedom and I've failed.

Why do I think that a daily commitment is ruining my life? Since when did I give the radiation SO much of my personal power?

And all of a sudden it hits me square in the eye - I'm in the middle of yet another labor. I too am in a prodromal labor! Like a mom who is prodromal, there is always the choice of augmenting the labor with pitocin or herbs to get the labor going... I can choose at any moment to not sit in this place and be done with radiation... or one can choose to surrender into the complete 'out of control' feeling, stomp one's feet, allow oneself to feel the anger of not being in control and at some point develop a depth of patience that one never thought possible.

Here I sit, with the full choice to discontinue radiation to avoid these feelings and my choice to go deep into my feelings. When I sit quietly in these depths I find that I am resistant to discipline. Somewhere, somehow, I have equated discipline and a daily physical commitment with limitation of freedom - and I'm addicted to complaining about it!

I am back where I started.

I breath in my commitment to not 'fight', I align myself up with the word 'trust', and I exhale my uncomfortable feelings around the word 'discipline' and admit, that I don't like it when I am not in 'control'.

Stick a fork in me, coz I'm done!

And with that information, I decide to ritualize my experience. I stop everyday at my favorite underground juice bar, where I down a double shot of wheatgrass, grab fresh juices for the day and drag my ass to radiation - with full permission to continue grumbling away and stomping my feet.

I continue to witness this place in myself without judgment, holding that scared, dysfunctional place within the health of trust that I know is my true self.

I settle.

I breath in more spaciousness.

And continue into this unknown with the big toes testing out the waters of peace while I am in the midst of not knowing the answer.

Uuuuugggghhhhh

I feel like stomping my feet and have a proper 3 year old temper tantrum.

Today is a day dedicated to cancer and Cedars Siani Hospital. 10:30am Bloodwork, 11:00am Dr. G, 12:30pm Herceptin Infusion, 2:30pm Interview my Radiologist, 4:00pm Manicure (yes, the manicure is a very important part of the cancer day). My Physical Therapist want to see me at 5:00pm, but I say "No", because I know I will have nothing left to give by this evening.

I woke up this morning full of piss and vinegar. I could feel things brewing inside of me.

It is 8:30am, so I call Anna W.

Before she has a chance to state the pleasantries, I jump right in, "Anna, I'm scared."

I don't know what I am scared of, I just know what I am feeling.

"And I'm angry because I don't know what I am scared of".

I start to unravel the feelings with Anna as my witness. What starts to come up is my frustration that I am moving forward with the radiation & herceptin, but I don't want to. Yet, I can't find a reason why not to.

I'm scared of the radiation causing lymphadema (it increases the risks once one has had the axillary disection). I'm scared because I can't say no to having the burning toxins of radiation put into my body - even thought there is no cancer in my lymphs and my breasts are gone. I'm scared of the extra scar tissue and hardening of my skin that radiation creates. I'm scared because I think I don't have the strength to say "no", because the whole idea of even doing these therapies is based on a fear of cancer, and a fear of dieing. And I know I am not going to die now, but I'm scared that if I say "no" to the continued treatments at Cedars then the cancer will come back.

I'm scared because I'm witnessing that I have fear. Fear that the cancer will come back if I don't do the time consuming radiation, herceptin and hormonal therapies!

Now I find I'm angry coz I think I'm buying into a "fear" mentality. And I am judging myself for that.

So I chew on my favorite quote: "Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear." ~Ambrose Redmoon

And I start to realize that fear is part of life. It does not go away, no matter how much one meditates, no matter what one studies spiritually - and sometimes it is a good thing (I have a huge fear of cliff diving, and I feel that fear keeps me safe). But, how we approach fear can change.

"Anna, I'm not afraid of dieing. To be quite honest, it just might be a lovely vacation from all of this. And I'm not afraid of living. I know I have courage to move forward. What brings me to tears is the thought of not being alive while living! The idea of going into cedars everyday for 6 weeks for radiation... the idea that I have a year of herceptin and I can't do a proper cleansing of the toxins in my body because of herceptin's half life... the thought that I'm going to have to fly now with a compression sleeve... "

I'm starting to see that the source of these fears: I have some kind of belief that all of these daily/weekly appointments will limit my freedom...and that limitation scares me.

UUUUUUUgggggggghhhhhhhhh

stomp stomp stomp

breath.

one more breath.

This is crazy.

I don't drive my car without an insurance policy - not because I am afraid of getting into an accident, but because I can relax that it is one less thing that I have to track, create, manifest, control.... The car insurance give me a bit of freedom to not worry about driving. The car insurance supports me.

And it is the same with all these additional western therapies. They are my insurance policy for never ever having to go through this again. The radiation and herceptin actually create more support and freedom within my body.

It is so ironic. I spend years studying alternative therapies, and ways of being, and yet my way through this is with the toxic way. For some reason, that seems the most supportive way to me.

And I have the courage to rise above my perceived lack of freedom and move forward - kicking and screaming - but I still, I move forward with the radiation and drugs.

I have space now to see my new body

I have space now to see my new body.

I look at the 4 week old scar on my belly from where they took all the fat for my breasts. I touch the uneaven, undulating, scabbed over skin. I am not scared of this scar. I am not upset it is there.

I touch my cleavage with gentle fingers. I trace my breast all around where it joins the skin. I can feel the place where the feeling ends, but am not bothered, because I so enjoy that I can still feel in all the other places.

I am still numb under my left arm and on my left side where the lymphs were taken out. More scars there. It is not strange to touch the smooth skin where my nipples used to be and not feel anything. I can no longer remember what it used to feel like. There is swelling and numbness on my abdomin above the scar. As the swelling subsides and the nerves that are left start to come back on line they let me know they are pissed off as they jab me to attention, then that area becomes sore to the touch.

All the nerves that were severed will grow back at a rate of 1/2 cm a month.

I love that my breast are still a handfull but smaller. I gleefully show anyone who wants to see that I still have my own cleavage! Aesthetically it is a great start. They will need some more revisions, but that will happen after radiation. For right now, I look like I am wearing a sports bra.

The fat in my breast tissue is starting to soften and settle. I feel a deep bruising on my ribs, under my breasts, and honor that even though I still have breasts, there is pain from where all the original tissue was removed.

Sometimes my breast itches. I go to scratch it and I can't. I can't scratch the itch, coz I don't feel anything in the breast. That freaks me out.

As I get more feeling back in my chest I sit curiously at how different this chest, my new breasts feel. It feels like a gentle weight or pressure is on my chest. It feels like a foreign object is sitting there. I wonder if it will ever feel like a part of me? or do I get used to this heavy feeling as being part of the new me?

Where my belly has been stretched feels like I have been sunburned. The belly skin has stretched enough now to allow me to stand up. I am no longer walking hunched over. I need a lot of work to get my posture back. I am SO happy I did not have to re-arrange my muscles to create my new breasts.

I have a new bellybutton. There is some necrotic tissue forming above it. It will settle into another scar. The plastic surgeon can take care of that scar. I might keep it. I feel freedom in knowing that I have cut the connections to my old ways, and can realign myself with a new center.

I am one of the 6% who developes axillary web syndrome. That means there is a rope like tendon under my armpit that extends above when it used to be and needs to be stretched or put back into place. They say it goes back to normal after 3 months. It is really odd to feel and look at.

My hair is starting to grow back as my eyebrows are falling out. I've got a peach fuzz on my head - sometimes called "chemo fuzz". I hope my new eyelashes grow back as long as they were before.

Everything aches more when I am tired.

I want to cleanse my body of all the toxins. Paige reminds me that I have just had the biggest cleansing of my life! My inner pain has been cut away. I like that.

I feel like my inner imperfections are now on the outside of my body. I relish in the fact my humaness is for my viewing at any time. I feel beautiful with these marks.

I surprise myself at how much I like my changing body and how free I feel!

I'm kinda cancer free

My Oncologist and Breast Surgeon were each vying to be the first to tell me the news.

"In your right sentinal lymph node there was no cancer and in your left sentinal lymph nodes there were cysts. That is a sign that cancer was there, but now it is gone. There was no cancer found in any of your other 24 left lymph nodes and they had a hard time finding cancer in your breasts. They found a few sporatic cancer cells here and there. It's a miracle!"

Dr. G tells me that this kind of result from the chemo happens in only 20% of the people. Usually there it is either the lymphs or the breast that are cancer free, it is rare to find both together at this level.

My first response is: "So, what your telling me is that not finding the cancer means the mastectomy and taking out my lymphs was a bad idea? or a good idea?"

(and I paraphrase) "No, having the mastectomy was definitely a good idea. And there is no other way to know that the cancer is not in your lower lymph nodes without taking them out. What this means is that your cancer is very receptive to the therapies. Statistically speaking you should continue to have good results from the rest of the therapies. We encourage you to continue the therapies and any you will live a long, long life."

The crazy part is I'm not jumping up and down with this information, because I already know that I'm not gonna die from cancer. I look at them a bit blase, because I had already known that doing all of these steps will let me live a long healthy life... otherwise I would have stopped in the middle of chemo and chosen another path.

I also know that for me, this cancer is one of the most intense initiation I have ever experienced.

The hard part is that I already knew the cancer was mostly gone, and at the same time I was very clear that I needed to have the double mastectomy and axillary dissection.

Having the double mastectomy was not a hard choice. That was easy. I have 2 risk factors for breast cancer, and now they are both gone. The hard place was lymph node removal. Whenever I check in with my intuition, I kept getting a resounding, "Yes, you need to have them removed." I don't like the idea of having the lymphs of my body, the pathways of clearing and cleaning, the body's pump eliminated. And my form of 'spiritual' does not include elephantitis of the arm!

I'm afraid of that.

But there is something here for me to learn. Yet another gate.

Do I trust my intuition?

Yes. I knew the cancer was gone. And I also knew that the next step on this journey was to have the lymphs removed.

Could I have kept the lymphs and led a happy life and die of old age?

Probably.

Why did I not fight to keep my lymphs?

Because I made a commitment to not fight this process. Keeping my lymphs would have been a bit of an uphill battle to explain to everyone that would continue to take a lot of my energy for many years. And I don't have that kind of energy.

Would I have felt sure and settled that the cancer was gone if I kept my Lymphs?

No. There is something about following the path of Common Practice of Care that is an important. It offers some kind of insurance policy for long term that makes me feel safer, and I know each step is an important part of this humbling journey.

Sometimes we are called to do things that we don't want to do, or we think how it looks on the outside is 'wrong' or 'bad' or 'not right'. And in my world, the taking out of my lymphs looked like a bad idea, yet inside it felt right.

I have been choosing what has felt right this whole time, and I am continually shown grace through my choices, so I continue to listen to my intuition. As hard as it is for my mind, I choose the path of what feels right.

And I settle deeper into my body. I begin to feel the pain, and the hurt.

I begin to feel my body.

for real this time, not just words.

I feel like recovery from the surgery is harder than chemo.

Chemo is hell. Utter hell. but it is doable, coz the hell only lasts for 2-3 days.

Surgery is harder for me because I've been so immobile for so long. And my body hurts. Being is physical pain is very new for me.

And I have very little creative or communication ability. There is a lack of motivation to write on my blog. But this is different than the 'nothingness' of chemo. It is not 'blah'. It is not 'depression'. What is it.... It is a conservation of my energy.

I can feel how much energy it is taking to get my body back to health. How much it is taking to really be - not my old self - but my new self. It is so hard to explain.

Here I am, the same Elizabeth, with the same blue eyes, and the same way of seeing the world... yet I am SO different - physically, and I am seeing things with clearer lenses.

I'm not doing my old routine of, "Pain killers are so bad for the body...." or "In the past my nose never dripped..." Who the hell wants to listen to that drama and pointless defenses anymore? I can now own the places in myself where I have been addicted to the drama, frustration and chaos in others and in life. And within that addiction, I can see how I have needed it to define who I am, for this addiction is what I grew up with, this addiction is what I know, this addiction is what I bounce off of to feel me.

I can feel a simplicity settling in.

I move my body and stretch. I try and raise my arms and stop from the tightness in my muscles, but it does not anger me. Of course my arms won't raise over my head, I just had a double masectomy and an axillary disection on my left arm! And I am okay with this.

I think this is what is called acceptance.

I can go back to work this week but I'm being kind and not pushing myself. No prenatals before 11am. People are calling me to be their midwife and I turn them down. I don't want to work so hard physically anymore.

I am being easy on myself.

I have been spending a lot of time with my parents, who have come to California for the month to support me. I can now understand why I put such high expectations on myself. Why I have been so hard on myself. Why I am so critical of myself and to my surprise: others. I had to do that in order to survive. It is what helped me feel safe within so much chaos and overwhelm. In order to get here now, that is what I needed to do.

I decide to speak to my own heart that has been addicted to pointing out that others need to be the problem. Basically I talk to the original victim, who after all this work is still here. I tell my heart that she is not bad, and that this addiction is what she is used to, the only way she knows how to define herself; but, it is not who she is. This heart is not this addiction. And back then I may have had not other choices, but now, in 2009, I do have other choices. And I make a choice to open up my eyes and know that I can be my own healthy parent and make good choices. And I do all this with love and kindness for myself and the other.

I declare that I am 40 years old and my parents are no longer taking care of me, I am taking care of me. So, I don't need to be so hard on myself, and I don't have to have such high expectations because I am choosing to no longer live in the overwhelm. I have other choices today. For instance, I can actually listen to my body and respond by saying, "No." "No thank-you." "No, I don't want to." or "No. That does not work for me".

And when I say that, I am no longer saying, "NO! Leave me the fuck alone and get out of my space." or "NO! You are wrong and I am right!" or "NO! I am not responsible for you!"

The anger and the charge is now gone. Now, I can say, "No. I am now going to express to you how much I love myself by making sure I continue to regulate my own nervous system, take care of my own energy, discern what healthy support looks like and choose the health in my system. So, no thank you. You are not wrong and don't need to change, but I need to go now." And I take myself out of a situation before I get overwhelmed, and take care of me while I still enjoy them.

And as I express this loving "No" to my parents, I release them of the responsibility to take care of me, I forgive them for all that has happened in the past and I no longer have any expectations that they need to change.

I know that I can now do all this with responsibility, spcaiousness and kindness.

And within that process I am able to soften and release more energy for healing. I am able to accept my parents as they are. To accept myself as I am. To accept others as they are.

And as I do that, I realize that not only has my inner critic has left the building, but that my inner critic had a lot more power in my life than I let myself believe! I'm shocked at how I have been running a racket and fooled even myself - in my own head for years! God, I'm good.

And then something strange begins to occur... I find myself spontaneously forgiving myself. People will be talking to me and there I am forgiving myself for the critical thoughts I have in my head: for hearing myself make them wrong, for hearing my mind beat on me, for witnessing how I compare myself to them... and then watching how all of that creates a high expectation for myself... WOW! I am pretty damn clever AND what a waste of energy!

No longer is forgiveness a bunch of words and prayers that I need to memorise. It is now a spontaneous, viseral experience.

No tears. No drama. I just stand there listening to someone speak to me and there it is: forgiveness plane and simple.

And I dance on the edge of feeling that accepting them is accepting me. That forgiving them is forgiving me.

Finally, I am stepping off the gerbil wheel in my head.

I can feel the creakings of my heart begin to open. Is this what loving others is really about?

And then the simplest of all miracles occurs. I find that my parents no longer annoy me. I can actually laugh at my parents. I find myself actually enjoying them. And I can feel the love they have for me start to trickle in - for real this time, not just words.

Post Op details

After I left Sufi, my cancer partner in crime, behind in the waiting room, I walked into the pre-operating room where I was surrounded by my team of Loving Doctors... Dr. Schneider (my OB/GYN) - who was there co-incendently for another surgery, came by to say hi and hold my hand, Dr. Kristi Funk (my breast surgeon) was ready to go in and operate first and Dr. Lisa Cassileth (my plastic surgeon) was there to mark my breasts for Kristi. While lieing there looking up I saw the smiles of three beautiful women looking down at me, and I knew how blessed I am with having not only skilled, but loving doctors, who actually care about me as a patient and woman.

I actually felt safe and happy.

I gave my request to my doctors, "Please play whatever music will make you happy and enjoy yourselves! I trust you all and want to encourage you to let your artist self out and have fun!"

And I meant it.

The last thing I remember was being told in the operating room that the oxygen mask was being switched to something else that would put me to sleep.

10 hours later I remember yelling out, "Sufi! Sufi! Where are you Sufi?"

Sufi told me that someone went outside to the waiting room looking for because I was relentless in my drugged induced obsessive request for her presence. Next thing I remember is hearing from behind the curtain, "I'm a doula. I've been to c-sections before. I won't pass out."

I was in the recovery room coming in and out of consciousness. The rumour is I still had my sense of humor about me as I spouted off random bits of information and jokes (that I can't recall), until I made it to my post partum room on the 8th floor at 7:30pm.

There I was met by Rima, my parents and my new favorite person: Alyssa from Nebraska, my nurse.

It was there that I was introduced to my new breasts - which shockingly looked just like my old ones!

I knew that Dr. Funk was known for her skin sparing masectomies, but all the pictures at the doctors offices and web sites showed breast with huge scars from skin being transplanted from somewhere else, plus scars under the breasts and down the front... that is what I was expecting. I had prepared for the worst.

But what I was greeted to was my breast minus my nipples! I knew the nipples would be gone (there is some debate, but they are currently considered an organ, and as I have ductal cancer, that is the number one place for the cancer to grow, the nipple ducts, so they would need to go). But somehow Dr. Funk removed my nipples, scooped out all the breast tissue inside and the lymph on my left side, then Dr. Cassileth AND her Surgical Partner (that is 2 plastic surgeons) worked for 7 hours each to take all the fat from my belly to surgically sew it back into my breasts with vessels and arteries from my belly area. No muscle is needed in this procedure - which is called a DIEP Flap breast reconstruction.

I am hoping that after all the swelling has gone down that my breast will be aesthetically sound enough to NOT need any kind of implants. It will all depend on what it looks like in 3 weeks. I knew that some of my belly skin would be used to make new nipples, but I was expecting some of my belly skin to be used to make new breasts too! I was not expecting that all of my breast tissue - including my very own cleavage with its moles, freckles and normal wear and tear to greet me!

When I looked down my hospital gown, there they were, my 40 year old, over-sun exposed cleavage and breasts - but a bit fuller and higher up than I remembered. Granted, when I touched them I felt nothing in the breasts, (and I was also feeling no pain anywhere in my body - I'm a big huge fan of dilaudid); but, I could still feel all the familiar lumps and bumps in my finger tips! And I could still do one of my favorite things: pet my own cleavage!

And regarding the scaring - yes I will have a big scar on my bikini line from where they had to remove the skin and fat (and a flat as a board tummy left behind :) , but that was not a worry for me, because if they could get enough fat I will not need to have any implants. And on the breasts, the ONLY scars I have are around the nipple area. There are no scars under the breasts, or down the front of the breasts or anywhere else except the nipple area! And that is a no brainer, because it will all be covered up by a tatoo artists down the road.

Yes, there is more work to do as the swelling subsides and the fat settles into place, but I am BEYOND thrilled to look down and see the familiar.

I am constantly amazed at the grace and awe that continues to unfold in front of me.

endings and beginning

"What appears to be an ending, is perhaps a beginning." - anonymous

This is what I woke up to posted on the elevator at my parent's place. And it is very apprepo.

I am strangely excited. I feel so well supported. So loved, by so many.

I don't want to rush this place, or skip over any feelings, but what an opportunity I have to offer up all those old ways of being, my old beliefs to literally receive the new ways that I so so want to have in my life!

I'm being called into the pre-op room. I am told that I have to leave my valuables behind.... along with a lot of other things that I thought were valuable, but in actually, they really aren't....

I'll see everyone on the other side

A new year, a new body.

I have slowly been giving myself space to grieve the inevitable loss of my breasts.

I have grown to like my breasts, a lot. And they have been so good to me. They are soft, and fill the hand just to overflowing. They are warm, gentle, pendulous and enjoy a really good bra. They have great cleavage and show off my womanly figure. Yeah, sometime I get frustrated with them when I can't fit into Japanese designer clothing, but they really know how to fill out a dress from the 1950's.

And I view them now as protectors of my body.

In the same way that sometimes it is the honor of a dog to protect the master by taking on a physical ailment, I feel like it is the honor of my breasts to take on all those places within myself where I have felt rage, angst, anger and disapointment. Where I have critisized, manipulated, persuaded and judged myself and others. Where I am too hard on myself and have unrealistic expectations of others. And the much too long long list of places where I have expanded too much energy and hurt myself.

I imagine the cancer as all those dark places within myself.

And I imagine that what has not been burned off by the chemo is now collecting in my breasts to be cut out of my body.

My breast have woken me up and asked me to learn how to take responsibility for my life's choices and shown me I am not a victim. My breasts have shown me that god has never, nor ever will, create abuse or forsake me. My breast have woken me up into a deeper layer of my own self where I have learned how to forgive myself and others. My breast have allowed me to have the experience of magic every where - even in the dark times - through the Red Carpet Cancer Treatment.

My breasts contain cancer and have gotta go.

And my breasts are willing to be sacrificed for the greater whole.

And I am willing to let my breasts go so that I may live.

And as much as I celebrate my breast, I mourn their passing.

I will never be able to feel the nipple firm up in disgust at the cold weather. I will never be able to experience the rush of oxytocin as a child drinks from my tit. I will never again feel them contract as a shiver runs up my spine and through my body to confirm an intuition. I will never again feel the pendulous weight of softness against my hands. I will never feel my lover's feathery touch on the fullness of my breasts.

And leaning over to make sure that the breast fills the cups of my bras at Barney's is going to be a brand new experience!

I will have scars where once the skin was smooth. I will have tattoos where once there were areolas. I will have fat where there was once a whole network for creating mother's milk.

While meditating at the Chopra Center in San Diego this past week, I am influenced by his Deepak Chopra's 4th Law of Spiritual Sucess:

4) The Law of Least Effort
This law is based on the fact that nature's intelligence functions with effortless ease and abandoned carefreeness. This is the principle of least action, of no resistance. This is, therefore, the principle of harmony and love. When we learn this lesson from nature, we easily fulfill our desires. In Vedic Science, the age-old philosophy of India, this principle is known as the principle of economy of effort, or "do less and accomplish more." Ultimately, you come to the state where you do nothing and accomplish everything. This means that there is just a faint idea, and then the manifestation of the idea comes about effortlessly. What is commonly called a "miracle" is actually an expression of the Law of Least Effort. Least effort is expended when your actions are motivated by love, because nature is held together by the energy of love. When you seek power and control over other people, you waste energy. When you seek money or power for the sake of the ego, you spend energy chasing the illusion of happiness instead of enjoying happiness in the moment. When your actions are motivated by love, your energy multiplies and accumulates--and the surplus energy you gather and enjoy can be channeled to create anything that you want, including unlimited wealth. There are three components to the Law of Least Effort--three things you can do to put this principle of "do less and accomplish more" into action. The first component is acceptance. Acceptance simply means that you make a commitment: "Today I will accept people, situations, circumstances and events as they occur." This means I will know that this moment is as it should be, because the whole universe is as it should be. The second component is responsibility. This means not blaming anyone or anything for your situation, including yourself. This allows you the ability to have a creative response to the situation as it is now. All problems contain the seeds of opportunity, and this awareness allows you to take the moment and transform it to a better situation or thing. The third component to the Law of Least Effort is defenselessness. This means that you have relinquished the need to convince or persuade others of your point of view. If you relinquish this need you will in that relinquishment gain access to enormous amounts of energy that have been previously wasted.

During my meditations I have continued visions of my body with a grey, tired - no, exhausted - shadow of myself trying to leave my body and just rest in the arms of my new guide who refuses to leave my side. But, somehow I am recoiling back into the place where I am holding on.

He begs me to die. He holds out his arms and offers me rest, comfort, safety.

He is kindness and compassion. In his arms I feel warm and can relax. I trust him.

And I want to let that grey part of myself that thinks that it's job is to keep me safe,
that works so hard to keep me safe -
the part of me that plans and controls,
as it chases the illusion of happiness -
die off.
For I am too tired to continue with even the slightest bit of the old way.

I want a life of ease and simplicity.
To do less and accomplish more.
To be able to accept people, situations, circumstances and events as they occur.
For the last bit of chatter in my brain to shut the fuck up!

And I am willing to sacrifice my breasts and allow myself to die in order to move forward from a new place of ease.

And I take responsibility for creating the story of a double masectomy. And I forgive myself for creating this situation, that is difficult and just down right awful.

And that is where my sadness is.
With all the things that I can create, this is what I choose?

God, I hope I learn to choose ease and simplicity soon...