Post-surgery Report:
What a difference!
It has been almost a week since my fourth (yes, fourth) surgery to repair my broken humerus. Although I have moments of intense pain, I was pleased to discover that the ordeal of surgery and pain has not affected my good spirits. This is a far cry from my reactions after my previous surgeries, and I’m grateful.
I attribute this difference to all the healing work, Buddhist practice and all that I have learned in the last nineteen months since my traumatic fall, as well as the loving and compassionate support of my husband, family, friends and of course, my cat Alison. As soon as I notice the l urge to go into my head and judge or resist the pain, I return to my body. I breathe luminous blue light into the pain, and visualize the healing blue light filling my body, and then sending it out to heal all sentient beings. This is a sure-fire way to nip self-pity in the bud.
Through my practice and study of the Buddhadharma and Buddhist psychology, I have learned and experienced that our bodies hold our wisdom. So, I turn my attention to other felt senses when I’m jolted by a moment of intense stabbing pain. I don’t resist the pain, but feel it and then turn my attention to another sensation.
For example, if I’m eating an apple, I focus on the deliciousness of the apple, and feel gratitude for all that it took for that apple to get from a seed to my plate. Or, I take a short walk, appreciating the earth under my feet, the season slowly shifting from autumn to winter and the exquisite impermanence of each moment. Alison purring sweetly beside me as I pet her soft fur is good medicine too.
Music has always been a healing force in my life. Even as a child, I loved to dance around the living room, and moving my body to music always helps. Last night, as I was swept by a moment of sharp stabbing pain, I put on a favorite - Emmylou Harris‘ version of “Goodbye” written by Steve Earle. I listened to the melding of the musical instruments and rhythms with Emmylou’s ethereal voice, and allowed my body to sway and dance gently to the music, turning my focus from the pain to the sounds of the music and the pulsations in my body and my breath as I moved. The pain was there, but it didn’t overwhelm me. I felt joyous and alive.
My body tells me that there is ultimately no difference between sensations of pain and sensations of joy. It’s a question of staying present. Each moment – whether a pleasant or unpleasant one, happens in the present moment, moment to moment: Let it come. Take a breath. Feel it. Let it go.