WORDS
Oof! December has been a big, beautiful month on so many levels. I’m finding it challenging to wrap my head around it all and to write. Every night before I fall asleep, I start to write this in my mind and again in the morning before I roll out of bed, more thoughts arise. A part of me wants to say something profound or prophetic. A part feels some obligation to report the facts, and a part of me wants to not write at all. At my core, I’m between here and there. A liminal space. Words, emotions, float by. Gratitude. Mystery. Love. Prayer. Miracle. Grounded. Trust. Well-held. Blessed. I have felt all of these and more this month.

December 8 was surgery day. Quite auspiciously, it was also Bodhi day, celebrating the Buddha’s enlightenment, and the feast of the Immaculate Conception. From my perspective this was not an ordinary day. From my surgeon’s, it was. Arriving at UCSF at 10 am, we entered the pre-op area around 11:30am. There were 20 plus curtain-enclosed bays. All full of patients. I was in number 14, along with my niece, Lori, who accompanied me through the four days in hospital.

At least a dozen nurses, residents, doctors, and anesthesiologists, breezed in and out of my space asking and answering questions, inserting IV lines, drawing blood, taking vitals. My surgeon entered, not yet in her scrubs, and cheerfully said, “You ready? Let’s get to it!” She wore extra-large gold hoop earrings that didn’t escape my admiration. With my minimal personal affects (sweatshirt, sweatpants, underwear) safely in a clear plastic bag with my name on it, tucked next to my knees on the gurney, I said to Lori, “Love you. See you on the other side.” She would text updates from the surgical team to family and friends during what became a six-hour operation.

Trundled on the gurney into the other worldly surgical suite I noticed how skinny and long the operating table was, and how big and bright the overhead lights were. Two “Davinci” laparoscopic robotic machines stood in the corner against the wall like silent sentinels, eight-armed mechanical octopi. They would not be put to use. The surgery on the menu today would be wide open, from just below my breast bone to my pubic bone, along the same midline as my previous surgery 17 years prior. This would repair hernias and rebuild my abdominal wall, bringing muscles long separated back to center.

Bending over the table, back exposed, the anesthesiologists inserted the thoracic block epidural into my spine, secured it in place and rolled me onto the operating table. That’s the last thing I remember until I woke up in post-op recovery around 8pm. No near-death- experience this time. I would read all the text updates sent to friends and family later. Lori was able to see me before visiting hours were over. I then lay there chatting with the nurse until 10pm when a room finally became available.

My roommate moved in within minutes of my arrival. Crammed together in a much too small room, we drifted into our respective nights of poking and prodding by the nursing staff. She had the view. I was next to the toilet and the door. I don’t remember sleeping that first night. I remained between here and there, watching the two clocks on the wall tick away the minutes, then the hours. Until I was released December 12, only four days later, much was a blur, thanks to strong pain meds. Lori visited each day between 10am-2pm. I dozed between blood draws, heparin shots and electrolyte infusions.

The one night I didn’t have a roommate, I was awakened by the door closing, the fire alarm sounding and the smell of smoke giving me an instant headache. Pressing the call button, I alerted the person on the other end. Her response? “Not to worry, it was just a fire in a building down the block.” Huh?  If that was the case, I thought, the hospital has a pretty lousy ventilation system. I eventually drifted off to sleep after thinking it would really suck to live through this surgery and die in a fire. Residents removed my epidural on day three, and we discovered my allergy to another medical adhesive as blisters appeared on my back where the adhesive had been.

There was talk among the residents of sending me home that day, but I insisted I wasn’t ready. A reminder to self that you have to remain diligent as your own advocate in our healthcare system. Dilaudid was administered, and I drifted into the liminal space between here and there again, staying another night.

Everything was in alignment for my journey home the next day. My best friend from college, flew in from New Jersey, arriving at the hospital at 1pm, just as my niece was leaving to catch her flight home to Washington. I was released at 2pm and home an hour later. I am deeply grateful for all who offered beauty, prayers, well wishes and all manner of support during this time. You know who you are! ❤️🙏🏻

The path of preparation and recovery was incredibly blessed. Between the April CT scan that discovered the need for surgery, and making the decision in late August to have it, fear and thoughts of death often surfaced. Based on what I’d learned in the death doula training that I completed in summer I made plans as if I were going to die. Everything was in order. From meeting with the surgeon of my choice in August and the actual surgery my fear dissipated and trust in her and positive outcomes grew. Daily walks and weekly hikes with Susan became a focus to keep my body strong. In late November I spent four days in silence at Babaji’s Upasana Hilltop Retreat in the redwoods north of Fort Bragg connecting with nature and divine energy, quieting my mind and soothing my soul. I was ready.

Since arriving home December 12 I have been pampered with loving care by friends and family. I’ve had in-home physical therapy and have been walking regularly, albeit slowly, since December 16. No steep inclines allowed for the next few months, probably until after I see my surgeon again in late April. Lifting more than 20 pounds is not allowed for six months. Sneezing, coughing and riding in a car on bumpy streets/roads are most painful. I cross my arms and hold tight.

Each day, I listen to the wisdom of my body. Some days require naps, others don’t. There’s a tight soreness that’s expected to last several months to a year on either side of the incision where the mesh is anchored to muscle tissue by sutures.  Our bodies know how to heal. Slow and steady, no matter what our minds might think. I’m off all pain meds, and only occasionally wear a binder. I’m cautiously mobile and pretty independent, although still prefer assistance with grocery shopping, house cleaning and definitely with turning the new mattress. Also, happy to have visitors to play Rummicube, walk or watch Netflix. I look forward to seeing clients, students, colleagues and friends again in the coming weeks, to closing out this year, and easing into the next.

“Between here and there…” Inspired by a Wild Writing prompt from a Mark Nepo poem.

PICTURES
Beauty as Medicine – Click on any image to see gallery view.

IDEAS
Reviewing the year in my 2023 blog posts reveals a creatively fulfilling year. Today feels very much like being between here and there, which I suppose can also be considered being in the “now,” as I have no idea what 2024 will bring. Thoughts are percolating, and I’m also listening to my heart. We shall see what it brings.

2023 Lessons again learned:
Be willing to be vulnerable and ask for what you need
Advocate for yourself, especially with those in power

2023 Letting go of again:
The karma accompanying two surgeries, two decades apart
The earthly incarnations of two deeply loved spiritual teachers (Gay & David)
All forms of the past

2024 Looking forward to:
Whatever mystery unfolds
Whatever service I am called toward
Change
Deepening relationships
Inspired creative exploration

Namasté
May your new year be blessed with peace, love and kindness…

Rev. Lisa

Spiritual Companion/Guide, Healer,
Interfaith Chaplain, Contemplative Photographer

Free Photos at Pexels
Inspirational Photography Books at Blurb
“The earth is full of thresholds where beauty awaits the wonder of our gaze.” John O’Donohue