FAMOUS LAST WORDS

 Last night, we were on the couch watching TV in the living room when I turned to Will, and wearing a big smile, I told my husband that I'd realized I had no pain—anywhere!  Famous last words.

Not more than minutes, later, I felt need to use the bathroom.  Having left my shoes under the coffee table, I was in my socks when guess who stepped off of our area run and slipped on our slick marbled, 18 square inch tiled floor, landing hard on the right side of my body.  Geez

Will was at my side in a flash.

At first, I laid there feeling disoriented.  Seriously.  What was I doing, lying on the floor.  Then, I chose to move my right wrist, arm, leg and hip, very carefully.  Gingerly.  Praying that nothing had twisted or broken.  After a moment or two, Will bent toward me holding out both of his hands so as to help me to stand up.  Once on my feet, Mother Nature reminded me about where I’d originally been headed,

Fortunately (though I'm achy all along my right side), nothing was badly bruised or injured.  My sciatic nerve is throbbing but, all in all, two extra strength Tylenols and an extra long heating pad on high should see me feeling fine by tomorrow.

Throughout the day, I’ve continued to remind myself to feel grateful (especially at my age) that nothing is sprained or broken.

Soon after my sudden slide, my egg cracked wide open, and the emotional reaction, which had been repressed, over most of my life, was released followed by an Aha!  Moment concerning the current event that had caused my anxiety to arise in the first place.

At first, I thought the repressed emotion was fear.  But somehow, I’d felt as if fear, by itself, was missing ‘something’ that had not yet clarified within the conscious portion of my mind, leaving me facing a fearful enigma …

Annie

THE EGG AND I

Generally, whenever I feel compelled to pull this far into myself, as has proved true, this past week, something that I need to know about myself is working its way out of subconscious repression, and having worked with the astute nature of Carolyn’s therapeutic guidance (she has recently retired from her EMDR practice), I’ve just come to see that my power of intuition has been quietly waiting for a mental block to crack open (as naturally as would an egg), so as to expose whatever the conscious portion of my mind has been in denial of acknowledging—until now.

In short, my psyche has been readying itself to take a leap of faith so as to undergo yet another growth spurt of such a personal nature as to enhance my soulful connection to inner peace.

That’s all for today—more the next time we meet🙋🏻‍♀️

THOUGHTS WORTHY OF CONTEMPLATIVE CONSIDERATION

 It was a hard day’s night

(Not  really—I just couldn’t resist starting today’s post with that well stated lyric once  it popped into my mind)😊

Rather than a hard day, yesterday was quiet, as planned, with a little help from our friends, Marilyn and Joel (the first couple we’d met after moving to Phoenix, 46 years ago).  Yesterday afternoon, we four enjoyed a brief, masked and distanced patio visit.

Having experienced an overwhelming release of emotional commotion throughout the day, I’d expected to sleep soundly, last night, but that was not to be, because the sandman ran out of sand after sprinkling his wares over Will’s side of our king-size bed, and with nary a grain of sand in sight on my side, my sleeping pill was of no help, at all, so what did I do?  I cuddled with Will on his side of our bed; however, I’d tossed and turned, all night long until, having slept fitfully, if at all, I awakened to feeling mighty groggy, today.  Even so, here’s why I do not feel fretful in the least:  It’s likely that I’ll sleep well, tonight.

So, in addition to groggy, what else do I feel, today?

I feel less emotional commotion inside my head.  Though crystal clear clarity is not yet mine, my processor senses that today’s trains of thought will be more in keeping with clarity than had been true of my think tank, yesterday.

I’m also feeling more light-hearted than has been true, over these last four heavily weighted months, beginning with my nephew, Shawn’s sudden, wholly unexpected death, leaving my beloved niece, Jessica, utterly broken-hearted.

And though, as with every day, I know myself to be a physically petite person, I continue to feel surprised to see my lack of height while viewing myself in group photos, standing next to family and friends, because as small in physical stature as I prove to be, my spirit stands tall, and as to insight-driven trains of thought, which pop up inside my mind and then stream naturally out of my mouth, more feel worthy of contemplative consideration than those that do not.

In short, as human beings go, I’ve come to size myself up as, simultaneously, small and significant.

🙋🏻‍♀️😊Annie

COMMOTION OF EMOTION

 Only to relieve any feeling of suspense for those of you who have been awaiting the results of my chest CT and PET scan am I penning today’s post.

Both scans report no cancer anywhere within my body.

Though I know those results are stellar, I can’t clearly express my sense of relief until the commotion of emotion recently released from subconscious repression—so as to overwhelm the conscious portion of my thought processor with a confounding cacophony of ‘noise’ inside my head likened to a metropolitan orchestra warming up—has had time to calm itself down.

😶Annie

A MINDFUL SENSE OF POSITIVELY FOCUSED ANTICIPATION

Night before last, I slept well but felt anxious upon awakening.

Last night, I’d awakened several times, and yet, this morning, I feel alert and peaceful.  Happy, actually.

Go figure.

This afternoon, Will and I will see my oncologist and thoracic surgeon in back-to-back appointments at which time we’ll receive and discuss the results of my chest CT scan and PET scan—and for some reason, I feel completely self-assured that following both appointments, we’ll have received sound reason to celebrate only good news.

🙋🏻‍♀️Annie

MY SIDEKICK TAMES A MILD ATTACK OF PTSD

 Good morning,

My night was so restive that I fell asleep on our living room couch, before 10pm.  Then, once Will was ready for sleep, he helped his groggy wife into our bed, where I slept soundly till about 8:30, this morning.

However, upon awakening with anxiety as my sidekick, I’m awaiting an Ativan to kick in and calm my anxious reaction, which I believe Carolyn (my EMDR therapist) would attribute to a mild attack of PTSD.  In fact, it’s highly likely that I’d be seeing Carolyn via FaceTime with these scans looming overhead had she not retired, last year.

In order to help myself as best I can, my mind focuses upon this current set of scans rather than dwelling upon frightening results following last year’s CT and PET scans, in which the leiomyosarcoma had revealed its recurrence within my right lung—suggesting my need to undergo chemo treatments (goodbye hair—again), destroying my blood production—again—followed by another lengthy painful recovery in the aftermath of a second right lung surgery—again— and though the entirety of my right lung had needs be removed, thank goodness, no heart and venous involvement proved malignant, second time around.

With my casual study of ‘No Fear Shakespeare’ resuming, this coming Thursday, via Zoom, I’ll reread Measure By Measure, today, and then watch the play on PBS in preparation for this semester's first class.  In this way the proactive portion of my mind will remain productively well occupied, throughout the day, while  I await appointments, first with my oncologist followed by my thoracic surgeon, concerning the results of my most recent scans, tomorrow.

Over this past year, I’ve found that each time I choose to maintain a quiet environment of solitude while proactively engaging my mind with that of The Bard, my decision-making process encourages all of me to feel well-balanced and peaceful, and fortunately, while spending this time with you, I feel as though my little friend, Ativan, has begun to kick in, as well.

Over these past two years of serious illness, my thought processor has had plenty of practice absorbing insights spotlighting my need to take good care of my spirit’s well being just as I’ve always naturally taken good care of my dearest family and friends, ever since tragic circumstances lumbered heavily through our front door, terrifying a sweet little girl half to death, two weeks shy of my having turned the tender age of three at which time the dark ghostly presence of the Specter of Death, swinging his scythe menacingly overhead, terrified my subconscious psychic into a statue-like state in which I’d hold onto deeply repressed, undeserved guilt concerning my baby sister’s death, over most of my life until the astute listening skills of a therapist suggested my need of EMDR therapy, followed by strongly suggesting that I see no one but Carolyn, who’d authored the text on EMDR studied by masters candidates at universities throughout the world, and much to my good fortune, Carolyn lived and practiced in the southwest desert, just 20 minutes from our home.  

Though having been married for about 35 years before meeting with Carolyn, Will and I gained more insight into ourselves, each other, our marriage and our adopted places in our families, based in PTSD, than we’d been able to identify through our entire lives as the emergence of each insight led to the next as quickly as popcorn popping in piping hot oil.  And with insights concerning the effects of PTSD lighting up like fireworks on the Fourth of July, Will and I had just cause to enjoy growth spurts that saw us reinvent our personal traits, resulting in change for the better within every relationship that we’d ever treasured, being that one lasting change leads to many more.

And though, episodically, Will’s mind and mine feel mild to middling levels of repressed anxiety emerge, due to today’s stimulation of past trauma by any current situation that empowers our defense systems to set off alarms that hijack our processors into terrorizing our minds to feel the same as has been true during terrifying moments based in childhood’s experiences, long past, I can encourage Will to feel safe more readily than he can do that with me unless I ask to be wrapped safely in his embrace, as would any three year old child fearful of having somehow destroyed her beloved family’s peace of mind.

(If I just offered you a word maze that was difficult to maneuver your way through, I hope you can understand the complexity of my emotional reaction that ran interference with my brain’s connection to clarity while writing the paragraph above.

As to why I think to calm Will without being asked—well—our minds work in mysterious ways, and once my processor began to believe deeply in the timely emergence of my intuitive powers, insight began to pop more readily into the conscious portion of my thought processor than has been true for Will, who’d devoted most of his adult life to the absorption of scientific studies concerning medical procedures of which I know next to nothing.  In other words, our relationship comprises a separation of personal powers.

With hopes that your night felt restful following up with a Sunday, providing for pleasant activities, which keep your mind peacefully, productively entertained—I plan to do the same.

🙋🏻‍♀️Annie 

LET THE CELEBRATION BEGIN!

I was told that the radiologist would read my PET scan, yesterday, but more than likely, those test results would not appear on my portal until Monday.

 Though we’d not expected to arrive home from yesterday’s 2:45pm appointment at Mayo until 6:00, everything leading up to my 30 minute PET scan moved so smoothly that we’d pulled into our driveway by 5pm, and upon walking into our house, my first thought was—breakfast!—being that I’d just experienced a day of fasting NBM except for water.

Boy oh boy!  Did that mouth-watering, moist slice of pumpkin bread, heated, of course, taste great going down!

At 6:45 I’d indulged in a Margarita (already mixed—after two years of quarantining, I am easily pleased).

At 7pm DoorDash delivered delicious steaks—fillet for Will—ribeye for me—mashed potatoes (Will) baked potato with all the fixings (me) creamed spinach and cheese melting over steamed broccoli—comfort food—yum!

If I’ve learned anything, over recent years it’s this:

Nothin’ wrong with celebrating yourself as you would your best friend!  So whether we receive results before my back-to-back doctors appointments (scheduled for this coming Monday) or not—Will and I chose to hope for the best while celebrating each other and ourselves, beginning with our scrumptious self-indulgent dinner, last night!

🙋🏻‍♀️Annie