Healing Takes Time

Chronicles of a Broken Ankle:

Saturday August 28th, 2021

I think I’m starting to move around a little better. It’s a little less painful when I stand up. However small the increments of healing are, I’ll take em. 

I’ve been getting messages from friends and family wishing me a speedy recovery. Asking me if I am starting to feel better yet. I get it. They don’t want me to be in pain. Still. Healing cannot be approached in the same way as a work deadline or a traffic jam. The go go go, faster faster faster mentality isn’t really a thing when it comes to healing. Well, you can try to apply it but it doesn’t work. 

Mike and my 21-year-old stepson Jaden are slated to go camping today. Just a one-nighter off into the woods someplace. They’ve been talking about wanting to go all summer. My van traveling friends Linds and Brian are in town for a few weeks and they’ve agreed to come and stay with me when Mike takes off. Despite how much I am able to do on my own, it feels like a good safety measure to have someone here with me, especially with how limited my mobility is.

It’s been almost 2-weeks since my fall. I’ve heard from two friends and one family member who had surgery to repair a broken ankle. At least two of them had hardware installed much like mine. It really puts things into perspective. Ankle breaks, bone breaks, concussions, big accidents. They happen all the time. Every day. With how easy it is to think I am at the center of the universe, I truly appreciate reminders informing me otherwise. 

I was up in my wheelchair for a little bit this morning. It felt nice to sit upright and feel as though I was among the land of the living. The body position of full time bed rest with my foot elevated is supportive and comfortable enough but I miss having the ability to simply sit up. With the help of my wheelchair, I was able to make tea, hard boil some eggs and even do some dishes. I also read a few poems from Buddy Wakefield’s book I recently picked up from the Book Exchange. I was hoping to write some of my own poetry as well but I ran out of steam and needed to go back to bed and lie down. I am hoping to be able to make it to sangha on Monday night but we’ll see how it goes. Right now I’m not able to sit upright for very long. I get nauseous and my energy takes a dive after 15-minutes or so. Small steps. Healing takes time. 

Fresh from Surgery

Chronicles of a broken ankle journal entry:

Tuesday August 24th, 2021

I had surgery yesterday. Everything went off without any hitches or glitches. The nerve block they gave me before I went under is still in effect. They said it would last anywhere from 12-24 hours. I got the block around 11am yesterday and it’s 9am now. They said that when it wears off I will probably have a rough couple of days pain wise. So I am making sure to enjoy every last bit of my near zero current pain level.

I’ve had my fair share of surgeries. On one hand I feel like a pretty healthy gal. On the other hand, I’ve been through some stuff. I also live with two chronic illnesses on board in my system: endometriosis and complex regional pain syndrome (CRPS). When filling out my pre-surgery paperwork yesterday, I was reminded about how many other procedures I’ve had over the years. Why this info cannot be stored in a database accessible by doctors near and far I may never understand. HIPPA I’m guessing. I was asked to fill out info regarding all of my past surgeries, including what kind of anesthesia I received and the year it was done. My long term memory is not good. So I guessed on the years. 

My last surgery was in January of 2020. I had what’s called a glomus tumor removed from my right thumb, under a local anesthetic. It was the second time I’ve had that surgery, as in some cases (like mine) the tumor grows back. The surgery before that was on my shoulder. That was a big one with a long recovery period. They went in to repair a tear. I was told that for the kind of tear I had, many folks can simply live with it and many don’t experience any pain associated with it. But for me the tear was very painful and was impacting everything I did to the point where I couldn’t extend my arm across the table to grab the salt. The surgery went great.  I was super diligent about doing PT and all of the necessary exercises at home everyday to regain my function and strength. I am happy to report I had a full recovery on that one. 

The one before that was an abdominal laparoscopy, to officially diagnose and treat my endometriosis. I also had a temporary surgical implant of a nerve stimulator inserted in my spine. It wound up not working so they removed it. And I had my tonsils and a lymph node in my neck removed when I was in high school. 

I’ve other non-surgical treatments done as well, and a battery of tests done for various unknown ailments. I had meningitis once (the viral kind not the possibly deadly bacterial variety). And I have a long running history of chronic laryngitis. For my CRPS, I went to a doc who specializes in my condition, whose office was fortunately located in the place of my birth & raising: Philadelphia. (Well, I’m actually from the suburbs of Philly but anyone from the suburbs of any city will tell you: it’s easier to tell people you’re from the closest big city when they ask where you’re from.) With that doc, I went through a 2-week outpatient infusion therapy of ketamine. I was able to stay with my mom and have my husband shuttle me into the city 5-days a week for 2-weeks, which worked out nicely. 

Chronicles of a Broken Ankle

It’s not an interesting story. There’s nothing elaborate or exciting or even mildly amusing about how I broke my ankle 4-days ago. But for some reason people seem to be expecting some kind of grand, adventure-driven tale. So here goes. 

Picture it. There I was, sky high on one of my many skydiving adventures, ready to enjoy the feel of the launch into free-fall. No longer needing to be tethered to someone else, I was reveling in my newfound freedom. Off I went, with a big beaming smile on my face, into the wild blue yonder. Moments later, an osprey grabbed onto me mid-flight. What the heck…is….happening?! I said in a yell-cry panic out loud to myself (and the bird). Fearful that our entanglement would obstruct the opening of my chute, I frantically tried to pry her off. No luck. For reasons unknown, she was holding on to me for dear life. Much to my surprise, the chute opened without a hitch. Ungraceful and clunky as it was, we managed to land safely on the ground. After a fistful of minutes, when I was finally able to untangle the two of us from all of the para-cord, the first step I took, strangely enough, was on a banana peel, which slid me right into a gopher hole. My foot caught in the hole and I fell in a twist to the ground. The result? A broken ankle. And the bird? From what I hear, she never tried skydiving again. 

_____________

So. Yeah. I broke my ankle on Monday around 5pm in the afternoon. I tripped and fell down a couple of concrete steps, which extend just off the back door of our lovely little house. It was the ole classic slip/trip and fall wonky on the ground routine. Nothin fancy. End of story. That’s all folks. 

I mean, isn’t this the most super common way of experiencing more serious injuries for the average person? We’re just doing something ordinary, no big deal, and then suddenly we find our self sprawled out snow-angel style on the ground, with a fierce shooting pain somewhere in our body and a lightning flash in our mind illuminating how our lives have just been changed. 

Maybe there are more people with wild adventure injury stories than I think. My husband has one involving a homemade sheet metal toboggan, a mattress buried in the snow, and an ambulance trip off of the Blue Mountain sled hill. But even if there is a large percentage of injuries involving an epic story, I think we should ask ourselves why we feel we need to be so entertained by someone else’s misfortune. Some people over the past few days, after they ask me what happened and I tell them how I fell, seem genuinely disappointed there isn’t more to the story. Lots of people dig drama I guess.

Speaking Up…Skillfully

A few days ago, I came across a newspaper clipping I saved from a local paper dated in 2007 that is no longer in operation (RIP Missoula Independent (AKA the Indy), I still miss you!). The clipping contained a Letter to the Editor I had written. In short, I was taking the Indy to task over what I felt was their glorification of alcohol consumption. In our university mountain town, I implored them to up their game when it came to taking responsibility for the content they were putting out into the world.

Back in 2007, I was still very much cutting my teeth when it came to the development of my writing style and I was early on the path of honing my skills of good communication. So while my Letter to the Editor wasn’t horrible, it wasn’t great either. As I read the words of my 28-year-old self, there were many cringe-worthy moments. There were word choices I would never even think to use now. Much of it was pretty combative sounding. At one point, while I was reading what I wrote, I thought to myself: The poor Indy for having to put up with me!

But I also thought: Whelp, my poor writing/expression skills were a necessary part of my path as a writer and a practitioner. The me that wrote that back in 2007 is not separate from the me that writes today. It’s clear to me – although I do need to often remind myself – that everything takes practice. Skillful speech takes practice. Good writing takes practice. Expressing myself and speaking up about something I feel strongly about but in a way that maintains respect and care for who I am speaking with takes practice.

I thought about creating a writing prompt for myself and rewriting that Letter to the Editor, just for the fun of it. To see how I would write that same letter today. But then another opportunity arose that I chose to run with instead, that operated along the same line.

Going Through the Motions

There is a way to sit on one’s cushion in meditation and not experience the fruits of the practice. (Fruits such as the Seven Factors of Awakening: mindfulness; investigation; energy; joy; ease; concentration; equanimity.)

There is a way of utilizing mindfulness in such a way where harm is generated.

There is a way to show up every week to sangha and not be beneficially affected by the power of community.

There is a way to read/listen/watch the teachings of the Dharma and understand it entirely incorrectly and to a great detriment.

There is a way to attend retreats and have it be a veritable hellscape.

We all know what it means to be tuned out/spaced out or on autopilot. We all know what it means when someone’s “light is on but no one is home.” To go through the motions of something without being present or connected to what it is we’re doing is a regular occurrence. Most of us have instances of it every day.

If we consider ourselves to be a mindfulness and/or meditation practitioner, how then do we avoid this common pitfall in our practice? How do we avoid getting caught up in the form of the practice and learn to embody the true spirit of the teachings?

Spoiler alert: I don’t have an answer for you. I think what’s important is that we as practitioners ask ourselves this question on the regular, to help keep our practice in check. Am I falling into the form of the practice at the expense of the spirit of the practice or am I utilizing the form of the practice in such a way that enables me to stay close in touch with the spirit of the practice?

This isn’t a one and done sort of deal. Just because we are connecting and applying the true spirit of the practice in our daily lives and interactions one day or week or month or year does not mean we can’t slip into being caught by the form of the practice the next day or week or month or year. To keep our practice alive and active, we must ask our self this question on a frequent basis and allow it to percolate to see what arises in response.

Leaping

I’ve been utilizing the above quote as a helpful motivator and encouragement lately. Leap and the net will appear. With so many big changes on the horizon and a big move out of our house of 18-years coming up, we are very much readying ourselves to take a large leap into the great unknown.

Every so often I am reminded of just how not mainstream and typical my husband and I are in our choice of lifestyle. A lot of the time I forget. But then, inevitably, something happens and I think: Oh yeah, right, we do things way differently than a lot of other people.

Our upcoming leap is a prime example. It would be pretty easy for folks to regard what we’re doing as a little crazy. We’re selling our house; moving everything we own into storage; hoping to spend the fall/winter at a Buddhist monastery; and planning to return to Montana in the spring to resume our search for bare land in which to build a lay practice community, which means we will essentially be homeless when our land search continues.

Nothing like a little shake up of the ole routine to put everything into perspective!

To say we are non-traditional might be a bit understated and, for the most part, we are on good terms with our choices and priorities in regards to our way of living. But there’s certainly still a fear-factor involved. Stepping outside of the norm; practicing to not be too concerned with what others think; untangling ourselves from the collectively upheld ideas of success and life trajectory, it all takes some real doing. It sure isn’t easy. But, then, what is when it comes down to it? Even going along with the mainstream culture is no cake-walk.

In any case, we’re gearing up for our next phase of life. A new chapter awaits and we are ready (ish) to see what comes next. This is us. Leaping.

P.S Interested in learning more about our aspirations for building a lay practice center in western Montana in the Plum Village mindfulness tradition? Please visit our website here: https://www.emptymountain.org/