You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘choice’ tag.

(Dedicated to Barbara and Leslie, who loved and lost Spectre, along with us. Thank you.)

Remember to love deeply and hold loosely. – Gussie Fauntleroy

Fly Spectre Fly!!

What I didn’t want to cover in my last essay about Spectre was that, although his body was unable to function due to the melanomas wrapped around his jugular vein and intestines, he was not ready to go. When we prepared to euthanize him, we gathered in the remote, upper field – our animal graveyard, where the bodies of our beloveds returned to the soil. Moving a dead horse is not an easy task and the death ritual has to be planned in advance. The backhoe has to be ready to dig the hole, right then and there, to bury him. If a horse dies in a stall, you have a serious problem on your hands.

When Keith inserted the needle to euthanize Spectre, despite David holding him, Spectre boldly tried to walk on. Two men were nearly unable to keep the needle in his neck. Barbara and I stood by in horror at the scene where our veterinarian was trying to end the life of Spectre, our beautiful, mighty Patriarch of the barn. Finally, Spectre went down on one knee; he needed to be completely overpowered to go down. He demonstrated to me what the body is capable of: that the body wants to live at any cost, whether it has melanomas strangling organs from the inside out, or not. In looking back at the trauma of the spectacle, I saw Spectre’s warrior nature. I saw his power and I saw his terror. With Spectre’s strength, he could have overpowered us, but he just walked on – always a gentleman. Spectre didn’t go gentle into that good night.

In my last blog, I did not talk about the emotional cost of keeping my body alive. I did not talk about the intermittent, insidious bladder spasms that often leave me soaked in urine that inevitably accelerates skin breakdown. I don’t like to complain about the small stuff; I just do my version of walking on. I believe much of my suffering so far has been necessary, humbling me, stripping me to my basic core. I have learned that when I can love myself with this illness, I can love myself wholly and in that way, the process becomes a holy practice. The true love of my life has been my inner work which extends to my work with others, so they can also access that holy state of being. This illness has served my highest soul’s desire and for that I am deeply grateful. I am not special; it is just my time and I have said yes to the Universe. Everybody will, in one’s own time.

When I listen deeply to my bladder, I hear that it is trying desperately to expel the catheter, the foreign object that has invaded it for the past six years. In the vernacular, my bladder is pissed off. When I realize this, I have compassion and know that my body is not my enemy, but my advocate, and a damn good sport at that!

I didn’t mention my extreme diet and protocols I have followed for the last thirty years – the daily green smoothies I force myself to swallow, knowing that they make my skin more resilient to heal the inevitable pressure sores from sitting twenty-two hours a day and the multiple injuries I am sustaining more frequently, due to my body’s increased structural weakness. The disease progression continues, despite my efforts to enter remission. I am constantly strategizing on how to prolong my life, while lessening the suffering. For me, it is a Sacred practice chosen by my soul. I know that, because my ego would never freaking choose this!

I refused the traditional MS drugs, because I did not want to suppress my immune system, which was the best the medical profession had to offer this unrelenting, mysterious illness they call primary progressive multiple sclerosis, or PPMS, and have no clue how to treat. I searched for healing on three continents over twenty-five years, both alternative and allopathic. My main criteria was that it had to resonate as true healing, not tricking the body. In retrospect, many of my friends who attempted the mostly ineffective MS drugs have more debilitating symptoms today, due to the disastrous side effects, without having slowed the disease process, as promised. I don’t feel righteous or resentful; I feel tremendous heartbreak watching the physical devastation unfold in those I care about and for those who courageously watch mine.

We are all just walking each other Home – Ram Dass

Ram Dass says, when we live more from our souls, then death becomes just another moment. As we become initiated by life: either due to body breakdown through illness, injury, aging, death of a loved one, or even our beloved pets dying when we are young, we learn that we are more than this vehicle we call our body. As we meet our initiations and move through the anger and fear, we can begin to live more from our Souls.

If my beloveds experience me only as my physical presentation, the loss is devastating. If we have a soul connection beyond the physical my process can also be awe-inspiring, because paradoxically, as my body deconstructs, my spirit grows, exponentially. I am left with gratitude as it has helped me grow patience in accepting my circumstances with Grace and dignity. (If you are reading my blogs, you are likely in the latter category and you are being initiated right along with me. Thank you for that. It is clearly the road less traveled.)

We tried any experimental drug available on Spectre. Like progressive MS, there is no treatment for progressive equine melanoma, at this time. We would have extended his life at any cost, however I am now learning that more time does not necessarily equate with more quality of life. I came to realize that by prolonging Spectre’s suffering, I was avoiding my own grief at his expense, not an easy realization to hold.

Fortunately, for our animal friends we have euthanasia to help them avoid needless suffering. Some of my Buddhist friends reject its use believing that all suffering, in animals and humans, is necessary for our evolution. Every animal communicators (those gifted individuals who can speak to our beloved animals “on the other side”) whom I’ve read, or spoken to directly about euthanasia, have, unequivocally, expressed our animal’s gratitude to the humans for helping to end their suffering.

I believe animals are here to teach us humans. Many states have begun to offer aid-in-dying, which is popular with over 60% of the people. The qualification process is arduous for those facing death, but empowering once completed. Now we have the choice to discern what resonates for each of us as ethical and true to help our physical bodies come to completion, gently.

Six years ago I was told that my kidneys were going to fail if I didn’t allow a urinary catheter to be inserted permanently. I agreed, because I had places to go and people to see! There is a cost for going against nature; the contraindications need to be considered. My bladder revolts at times resulting in spasms (mentioned above) and urinary tract infections. Constant use of antibiotics can result in resistance leading to superbugs. Kidney failure, aspiration pneumonia, and sepsis are common causes of death, when allowed to follow the natural progression of the illness. One doesn’t die from MS, one dies from “complications from MS.”

As we evolve as a culture and there is less fear around death, more options for supporting this sacred transition are becoming available to ease one’s suffering. When the body is ready to complete itself and turn from the physical toward the soul for animation, other initiates will appear. Perhaps they will be in the form of friends, family, those being trained as death doulas and midwives. As the Feminine rises, there will be less fear around choice, and the desire to control other people’s bodies will be seen as archaic.

There is a time to walk on and a time to take a knee in surrender to the soul’s desires. May we be granted the Wisdom to hear our  inner guidance and the Courage to follow our own Truth.

Advertisements

For my patients who have used this law, I was honored that I could be with them every step of the way, ensuring that they were cared for, and that they had control of the final days of their lives. That’s what death with dignity really means. – Nicholas Gideonse, MD 

When I was a child, I grew up on a natural lake. I was probably in the water eight hours a day. My family called me a fish. As I got older I learned to waterski– two skis, then one, or slalomming. I was on the swim team in elementary school, delegated to the 500-yard freestyle, because I was the one with the physical endurance to swim 5 laps, straight. During the summer I rode my horse, daily. In high school, I was in the snow ski club. And, in graduate school in New Orleans, I rode horses and ran road races in the scalding heat of the Louisiana summers. Needless to say, I was always physically active and athletic.

Running was the first ability I lost. I was 47 years old, with two children, a horse farm, and a psychotherapy practice. Within three years, I could no longer ride my horse and I started tripping and dragging my right foot. While carrying my computer, I fell on the wood floor and broke my patella in half, which led me to a walker. Although I dreaded using a walking aid, I was glad for the safety it provided. That was, until I fell on my walker and cracked my sternum.

With a cracked sternum, standing, sitting, any movement was excruciating. I’d bruised ribs in the past, but nothing like a sternum crack which required assistance for any movement. I was losing my autonomy. Around this time, I began having “accidents,” incontinence particularly disturbed my husband. This affected my dignity.

After failing to engage the brakes in my car quickly enough and finally stopping in the middle of a busy street, I realized that I would never drive another car and risk endangering a life. I was losing my independence. I was still able to drive the golf cart on the farm, which gave me  some sense of autonomy, but all of the chores were left to my husband, which was not our agreement when we purchased a labor-intensive horse farm.

My husband was becoming more and more irritable and resentful. Burdening loved ones is another huge fear to an active person becoming disabled. Each of these losses could lead to major depression, but having been a therapist or in therapy much of my life, I have the internal resources to deal with these stressors. Fortunately, I was not financially dependent on my husband or the government. I cannot imagine the level of suffering people encounter, when terminally ill, who are less resourced than I, either internally or externally.

After cracking my sternum, I was almost relieved to sit in a chair where I was safe from excruciating injuries. “You don’t get the small stuff,” exclaimed the doctor who read my patella x-ray. So, sit in the wheelchair, I did.

Probably the two worst symptoms of progressive multiple sclerosis are heat intolerance and intractable fatigue. I used to call it “crying fatigue,” because all I could imagine doing was to lay on the floor and cry. It was not grief or sadness that led to crying, but intense exasperation, with no emotion attached. Only someone with chronic or terminal illness can understand this level of pain and suffering.

After Katrina, when we had no air-conditioning for a month, in the heat of the Louisiana summer. I remember stumbling to my car with my walker, turning the engine on, sitting in the air-conditioning and crying. I knew I could no longer live in this state of Louisiana that I loved, that the heat and the hurricanes were more than I could bear. I no longer had the endurance of the 500-yard freestyler or the independence to care for myself with a partner who was beginning to resent me more each day. We would move to Colorado. I thought that would solve many problems, but little did I know my life was about to, once again, change forever.

On the way to Colorado, a wheelchair accident resulted in my femur being shattered, the largest bone in the body. It was shattered so badly, that the surgeon had to scrape the pieces together, to screw the stainless steel plate to something. This is where my book Meet Me By the River – A Women’s Healing Journey begins and chronicles my life from devastation to deep gratitude and joy. (Shameless plug.) From the hospital, I was discharged to our new home in Colorado. Six months later, my husband/partner of 11 years left and I, reluctantly and not very gracefully, was to learn how to live alone with this degenerative, neurological illness. Fortunately, I had the financial resources to not be a burden on my family for at least a decade.

Many people facing terminal illness embrace a spiritual life for the first time. Even if they were religious, their beliefs take on greater meaning, much like a spiritual initiation.

I began to see these physical limitations as directed by a higher power. I no longer saw them as punishment or some failing on my part; I saw the Universe as loving and I saw how my ability to impact myself and others was much more effective in this condition. The healing in myself and others was profound. I began to love this illness and see it as a course correction that was leading me to my highest purpose in life. The joy I experienced was infectious. The help I could provide to others was more than I’d ever imagined, with an able body.

As the illness progressed, I began to assess the level of suffering I was experiencing. At some point I knew that my suffering would no longer be a positive catalyst; the suffering would be needless. This pivotal point is different for everyone, depending on their capacity to process the pain and suffering, their level of development, and the Mystery beyond our limited knowing.

In November, the Aid-in-Dying law became legal in Colorado. The most common reasons people choose Aid-in-Dying are loss of autonomy, becoming a burden on one’s family, loss of independence, financial concerns, loss of control of bodily function, fear of uncontrollable pain, loss of ability to participate in pleasurable activities, and loss of dignity. (I highlighted some of the issues that cause me the most suffering in red.) This law is well-crafted to protect the vulnerable from abuse: one must be in the process of dying, be of sound mind, be able to self-administer, and no other person can benefit from this choice.

Opponents of this law often use the word suicide to incite people, emotionally, in my opinion. I have assessed suicidality for 30 years as a psychotherapist. When suicidal, a person wants to die. I have talked many a person “off the ledge.” It is an insult and a misnomer to ascribe suicidality to a person in the sacred dying process, who is finally able to surrender and let go. What a harmful imprint this could leave for the family to carry. Words have power.

All of this being said, my first choice would be to die naturally. Unfortunately, people never die from MS, they die from “complications from multiple sclerosis.” The complications can be: sepsis from pressure sores, choking to death which has to involve a beloved caregiver trying so hard to keep me alive, drowning in my own fluids from pneumonia, or some other horror I don’t yet know about. The best option I could hope for would be failing to thrive, or starving to death, slowly. Keep this in mind when considering choice.

Societies that rule with a more parental, autocratic style usurp one’s sovereignty for making choices for themselves and their bodies, which includes how they might want to leave this beautiful world. These regimes characteristically manifest a disregard for women’s rights, or a disrespect of the Feminine. (I use “the Feminine” as a term applicable to either gender: having more of a tendency toward vulnerability, empathy, and sensitivity. These are values that have been punished for nearly 5000 years.) Hopefully, we are integrating more feminine values moving toward a kinder, less violent world.

In the meantime, if I begin to feel complete with this lifetime and ready to let go and serve my loved ones from Spirit, do not conflate this sacred decision with suicide. This is not suicide. I do not want to die. My life has always been about service and learning to connect more deeply in Love, I know myself and I know this intimacy and animation will continue, and, most likely, express itself in a much deeper Way.

VISIT THE BLOG FOR MY NEW BOOK – MEET ME BY THE RIVER!

Go to - http://www.meetmebytheriver.net -- And you can find it on Amazon!
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. more...

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 115 other followers

Advertisements