All information is good information
A/K/A I am dying (sort of)
I would have preferred a really long sound bath …
Or good deep tissue massage. Perhaps aroma therapy or that sort of flower treatment that I know nothing about, but costs like $200 a session, so it must be good, right?
Oh, shoot, what about a facial or Ayurveda consultation.
That is where I wish to receive clarity, thankyouverymuch. Mass, I’ll even take me an “A Ha” with my wafer. Strike of lightening slapping my brow from above or beyond. Message from Mother Mary waking me up to action and exploration.
Yeah, that shit doesn’t happen. Unfortunately, we get the “goods” without the packaging. Sometimes, they do have a container, however, my most enlightening whiplash landed in a trash bag ….
So, the story goes:
A warm September some three years ago … And I felt like shit.
After too long a wait, wearing a white gown and a hair net, tube in my arm, and blood pressure ticker on my finger ….
A mystery was unraveled.
A sinking suspicion sank.
That thing that was always off became very wrong.
A discomfort unbearable.
One of those ‘no turning back’ moments you hear of.
Look, I get it. I am not alone. Too many women suffer mysterious discomfort. Like too many others, I too practiced convenient avoidance. Not exploring the “what” or “why” was a credit account of which I had hit the limit. Years, literal years spent, contorting to mitigate, manage, and mask numerous symptoms. Forget about the anxiety and very real fear; there was a monkey on my back chattering away about how ‘everyone can tell you are suffering/lying/struggling’
Have you seen that woman hiding all the uncertainty and less-than-ideal-ness of it all with a Joker’s smile? That was me.
I am fine. 100% fine. Why do you ask??? (She says while sweating …)
Back to the doctor’s office:
12:30 PM EST.
After yoga.
Before a late arrival at the office. My unsmiling, deeply kind doc told me I had (have) a combination of incurable, conditions. The half-life of which will only gain speed as things go. A train there is no brake to control. The only conventional track of medicinal support, a myriad of pharmaceuticals, each side effect of which is more horrifying than the next.
Psychologically, I am advised to refrain thinking of “good days”, “feeling well”, “pain”, and “sleep” as I once had. Expectations of having children, or avoiding exploratory surgery, certain levels of physical intimacy, longevity, and the holding of an affordable health insurance plan can all be done away with. This was not something I caught “in time”, but something I met “in time”. Disease not as a battle to be waged, but a loss to account for.
As I was leaving the Hospital, walking like a drunk, I got a call from one of the owners of the Startup where I served as Chief Operating Officer. He was sharing a fun “win” on a project he and I had plotted and recently launched. If only he is reading this, may he know what a blessing that call was. A mercy, really. To be able to put on my “boss” hat and connect with a team member whom had come to be a mentor and friend was everything. I told my colleagues a week later the “news”. That I may have unforeseen absences in the coming months – all the untimelier as we were close to securing a buyer for the brand and business, thus deep in legal and financial negotiations. Their support was a privilege. I get that. Not many, or more like NONE, of the employees in most companies experience the kind of professional grace those dear folks afforded me. That lesson in humanistic allowance and emotional generosity in the workplace is something I can only aim to imitate in my work and with my client community.
Why am I sharing any of this?
There are several reasons:
Humanistic: My body has not been well recently. I am compelled to speak to that reality as an invitation for those of you or in your circle who know that experience, who feel less-than-thus in any and all aspects of their persons, now or ever. May the disease be germ or systematic– ill is as ill does.
As a demonstration of an ethos. Stated in the title of this post, the All information is good information. The lessons we NEED are not always the ones we want, nor can they be delivered as kindly as we care to receive them. Vet the message, for sure, but too think on WHAT you are being told over HOW[AC1] . Take time to react, but don’t you FUCKING dare forget to ingest the intel. I HIGHLY recommend giving yourself ample time to unpack the feelings, and then look to what you are being told. That is the point where you can choose a response and think: How does this change me?
Lastly: “Feedback” has been a theme for me recently. As if from whom, to what end, why we ask, and wherefore we seek. Why we ask for it from parties we truly do not care about. Why we choose to hear from those who DON’T open/like/click vs those of you READING RIGHT NOW! What if ... we make haters by looking for them more than we do our fans …?
As stupid questions go, that day in that too cold room, I ask my doctor:
“What can I do?
Very pragmatically she says: Take it easy, fatigue will only make things worse.
Fuck.
She raises an eyebrow. My doctor delivers little by way of emotion, thus this small glimpse into her interpersonal backstage was priceless and poignant. Message received, delivery unappreciated, information valuable.
The days, and years, hence had and have me in MRIs and CAT scans. Hormone tests and colonoscopies. Bloodletting and bone sampling. That is how mindfulness reaches me. That is where I learned measure and to be my own “to do” thermometer. How I define my personal and professional pace. That “slowing down’ and “tiredness” is not a thing another can observe in me. No, that is a two-sided dialogue with me and this body here.
My condition makes me BOTH angry and aware. I am no better at accepting condolence or care, but I am much more astute at paying intentional attention.
These lessons are universal – yes, for once here I am stating a universal adage! No matter the speed or volume of how and what we do (of what I do too) our duty is to not stop, or take on, but to be nimble. Variable as the why and how over (always over!) the what. Those answers only you know, as my answers are mine alone, too.
This is coaching. Not telling you want to do, but asking why? Any other route is a hack. Bull shit. Coaching points out your metabolism and aims. YOU use that intelligence and TOGETHER you two draft architecture for filling and emptying your plate at the rate that best meets your appetite and digests best for you. Don’t wait to reach starvation before exploring the menu.
I chose, naively but nonetheless, hunger over satiation. From that willed ignorance, I suffered, and likely continue to –some days more so, others marginally.
I hope my story may be a at first a lighthouse for you. Next, a tugboat towards safe, successful shores, and crystal waters.
