Sunday, February 20, 2011

How Meditation let me down

or more accurately, how I did't give myself a chance

I recently had back surgery for a herniated L5S1 disc that was impinging on my left sciatic nerve.

Here's the history, for those new to my travails: The details of how are not known: all I do know is that about nine months ago I woke up one Saturday morning screaming like a little girl and had to be taken to the e.r. and pumped full of pain meds and sedatives. Visits to multiple orthopedists, an MRI, a course of oral steroids, opioids and muscle relaxants to diminish the initial symptoms was followed by a series of two steroid injections into the disc to reduce its mass. The injections worked somewhat: I had no real pain, but lost fine motor control of my left leg and developed a limp (yeah, didn't help my yoga practice much either)

But I figured I could make do. Be in the now. Deal with what is. And I did, for a good 5 months or so. Then the January storms came, and maybe it was too much snow shoveling, but hey presto chango, my little friend is back with a vengeance. Another course of oral steroids, and back onto a daily regimen of 30+mg of opioids and muscle relaxants (yeah, about as much as a heroin addict would take to get thru the day) and surgery was scheduled. But first, a new MRI to see changes in the mass.

And here's where I had my first failure.

I am not normally comfortable in confined spaces; the first MRI I had when this started was uncomfortable, but I closed my eyes, focused on my breathing, and just noticed the sensations of being enclosed, of the shake and rattle and tick of the machine, the inflow and outflow of air, the movement of my diaphragm: completely in the moment. No trauma, no panic, no stress, and at the end of the 20 minute session was able to calmly get up and walk away

This time: same place, same machine, same prescription. But as I lay down on my back, a difference: a sharp stabbing pain in the lower back. OK, no problem, you've done this before. Just close your eyes and breathe. Focus on the breath. Watch it flow in, Watch it flow out. In. And out. In. And Out. But: the panic rises. So I know I have to watch the panic. Label it. Observe it. Breathe thru it. But it doesn't help. Start again from the beginning: Breathe in, breathe out. And suddenly my back spasms and I start to hyperventilate. I can't stay here - I can't be n this confined space. Not with this pain. Not here. Not now.

So what happened? Why could I peacefully go in and come out one time, but not the next? The physical stimulus was a factor. The anxiety of a recurrence of the herniation was a factor. And yes, the emotional recall of being hurt and stuck in a confined space was not helpful. (So much for getting over of thru things... oh well)

Incident number two: the day of surgery. Scheduled for late afternoon, and nil orally for 18+ hrs beforehand, including meds. Gowned up, ready to go, and word comes thru that the surgeon is running behind - by about 90 minutes. So all the resolve of being ready to go at one time now has to be stretched. And stretched. I can't lie down. Can't stand. Can't sit. The meds have now completely left my system, so there's no dullness to the knife twisting above my hips, and there's no moment I can find to start breathing. Leaning on the wheeled intravenous drip holder, let's try a walking meditation. By this time, the pre-op room is basically empty - me, her indoors, and a nurse itching to clock out. Shuffling step after step, up and down the ward, breathing in, breathing out, I am protected, I am strong, I am peaceful, I am at ease..... Yeah, right!

So what went wrong?

I can excuse myself for the second lapse: there was just too much happening; while desiderata implores us to go placidly amid the noise and haste, sometimes a good cigar is a smoke and you just have to suck it up. The first instance though is much less well defined: I still can't wrap my head around it, but in the end I guess the lesson is this: the past is a different country, they do things differently there. Looking backwards, mulling the issues, may yield some insight, but the process and practice is to be present, in the present. As with all things passed, it's best to let them go to be in their present.

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