Arriving at the Edge
When you arrive to edge of something and you look out in front of you to realize how small you actually are, you realize that right now you have the choice to remain at the edge, looking out at the view, or you have to climb, repel, jump or fly in that moment. As a cancer patient, I have expressed the loss of control, the way in which your world just spins and spins until you toss your cookies.
Well, I had to have my 6 month CT last week and on Monday morning the oncologists office called and told me they wanted to see me within a week or two. My arms went numb and I felt my shoulder doing the same…I hate this fucking feeling - it always means trouble for me. I asked her why the urgency, as I had an appointment scheduled next month, then I asked should I bring someone with me? As the nurse looked over the notes, seemingly unfazed by my panic and confusion and said, “It doesn’t say anything about that, she just wants to see you to review things.” She scheduled me for the following week. Suddenly everything felt different. Unsettling to say the least.
My test results were not uploaded to the system yet so I couldn’t see anything on my end. The next night I noticed it was there so I opened it. I read just part of it and felt my arms getting numb then my neck and shoulders; I then handed the phone to my husband. I remember nothing until he was above me calling my name. I was so confused, it felt like I had been drinking hard liquor — he was trying to wake me, my head was pounding, then I suddenly remembered my results. I wanted to vomit. I asked him to take me to the bedroom, I was not functioning at all. Everything was turning gray again, I saw the doorway to the bathroom, then the counter….then I woke up on the floor hearing my husband whisper, “Shanon! honey… you’re passing out again, try to stand up and get to the bed”. What the fuck was happening to me? I couldn’t remember anything. I couldn’t move my arms, my legs, even my eyes; just frozen and nearly catatonic for what felt like forever. It was as if someone or something had ripped me from my physical body and tossed me somewhere else. I couldn’t process anything. I couldn’t understand.
My results stated that there were two new spots on my chest but we knew nothing else. Kurt kept looking deeply into my eyes repeating, “They are tiny and we don’t know anything yet, we need more information”. There are no words for what I experienced. I know my body, my reactions, my internal “Knowing” of things and I could feel it throughout my bones — fear and immediate melting of all things. I told him I was going to vomit but I could not move then suddenly my stomach moved and my shit bag filled. In that moment I felt appreciation for my shit bag because I couldn’t move but didn’t need to.
The next morning my body felt like an astronaut returning to earth, heavy and nearly impossible to move. I sat up and felt nauseas and dizzy so I quickly laid back down. I practiced zazen, I practiced Reiki, I practiced breathing deeply, I cried. I allowed myself to sink even deeper into my bed; it felt like the only choice in that moment. Kurt wondered if he should stay home but I said no because he was working on a huge project with a looming deadline at work and it needed his attention.
I could not hold space for my clients that morning either so I decided I had to cancel them. A friend, who is also a therapist and works beautifully with energy asked if she could stop by to offer support, I tried to say no but she reminded me that I needed to put this shit somewhere. While she visited we saw endless butterflies and several hummingbirds, it was beautiful and it was what I needed at that time.
I’ve spent so much time recently trying to find my way back to place that doesn’t even exist anymore and now I’ve lost my balance and can’t even stand up. As I begin to breathe and try to find my balance and reorient myself, I also find a profound sense of gratitude in knowing that I am so deeply loved and held along this journey that no matter what, I am not alone.