Ten Days Later - Survival

As the evening comes on, I realize it really has been 10 full days since I woke up from brain surgery. So, first let me say, "Yes, I survived!" There is a lot more to say, and I find that specific words can be challenging off and on still, so I'll try to stay simple this entry. All in all my body is pretty healthy as I return to life's everyday experience. I can walk. I can point and write. I can cook and fold. I can see. My appearance is rather rugged at the moment; though even since this photo was taken a few days ago, my hair is already growing in. I am itchy as the drugs fade away.

There are some good challenges. For the first time in several years or so I want to exercise seriously, do yoga and move my legs and arms. The desire is incredibly deep and has nothing to do with vanity. In the hospital I started doing ballet bar exercises from my childhood when I was left alone. In the middle of the night I have been doing half hour yoga sessions on my daughter's mat in the middle of the living room. I feel like there is this new flow of energy through my whole body that hasn't really been around for more than a few years. I go for a walk in the morning and find it way too cold, though. So that's a surprise. Here I want to exercise, but having freezing air blow into me is completely shortened to the very minimum I can get away with because I can't seem to defend my body's temperature.

Temperature is a funny thing, too. Last week I ran a constant low fever of around 99 degrees, and I'm down now to 98 something. However my "normal" body temperature for years has been 96 degrees. This is all numerical and blah, blah, but the weirdest thing is that as soon as I am thinking -- like now -- I break out into a full body sweat. Does this mean my brain is working out? Maybe so. I am having to change my clothes several times a day, and wipe the scar and staples with a cool wash cloth to deal with the fact that thinking is a very hot business right now that seems to effect me top of the head to the bottom of my feet. I really hope that this will pass in a few weeks.

Thinking is interesting. I don't think with words mostly. Hmmm. It's bizarre. I look out and I have a conceptual understanding of whatever it is, but it takes a bit of time to come to words. Like this. This takes a little bit of extra time to come up with words, though I know I want to recognize these few things and say something that means what my concept is acting out visually. I dreamt of entire life sets for everyone and that has created a whole story in my brain, but I am unable to write it yet. I enjoy the pictures and the meaning of the pictures.

So, of course, I've been drawing. I've commented on some drawings and paintings on Facebook, too. I have appreciation for art. It has occurred to me that my life belongs to the arts so much more than I've allowed almost my entire life until now. For some reason I always thought I'd be more practical and my artwork was not terrific. But, now I kind of like my illustrations and moods and I am inclined to say that there will be more artwork now than there was before. I hope that is true. I really do.

Finally, I'm thinking about filmmaking and screenwriting yet again. I always think that I'm done with it and the fact that I now have three screenplays in mind after fits and starts for the past several years, I'm basically entertained by it. We'll see if the words will come back and explain these visual films I have in mind that explore the edges of the world we believe in and the possibility that just the other side of the door is a new world edge that we could embrace, or pass through on the way back, and that the way they all fit together is like the most amazing faceted gem in the Universe. We'll see.

So, that's it for now. I'll be getting the staples out of my head on this Friday and will find out what comes next. Thanks for keeping up. I need to go take a shower now and change my clothes.

Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?

November 18th will be my brain tumor party. The day I get anesthetized, brain tumor removed and titanium snowflakes in the end. So, that's that. I argued for an earlier date, but in the end found myself begging for the doctor to confirm, at least, November 18th, so that I could plan my life. Then while I was waiting and waiting, it occurred to me that part of my control freakishness is an addiction to feeling I can plan the future...as if...and the reason I know this is an addiction is that when they finally called and said that this would be the date and gave me enough information to make me feel like it was real, I felt the serotonin wash through my system. I felt relieved, and it wasn't even what I really wanted.

What is it with us that we are so concerned with what we're going to do tomorrow? What is it with the calendars and clocks and alarms and blocked out meetings and pick-up times for the carpools? I'm reminded of the lyrics from a favorite Chicago song, "Does anyone really know what time it is/Does anybody really care?" Oh, yes, we care. Let me correct that, I care. So, now I have three weeks that I can plan to the enth degree and busily I set about doing just that in my brain first and then on the calendar. Then I hit the wall.

After three weeks, I have a vague idea of the first three to five days of what will happen, and after that...phew...I have no clue. It all depends. It depends on how well the surgery goes. It depends on how my brain reacts to not having this gray egg pushing at it. It depends on the closure. It depends on whether there is any tumor left in the cavity. It depends on technology and the talents of the busy surgeon. It depends on things I seem not to have control of...

So that immediately informs me...what can I have control of? Har. I can control my attitude maybe, but my emotions are having their way with me. I was confident four weeks ago when this thing was discovered that it would be removed and all would be well, but all this time has passed giving me far too much time to contemplate less favorable results, and to be honest, that really is not where I need to go with my contemplation. Then I happen to watch movies where people die, or are chronically ill because there suddenly seem to be a plethora of those stories, and it becomes really scary. Then it becomes obvious. I have to spend the next three weeks cut off from media and well-intended conversations that emphasize the tragedy of finding out one is not perfectly healthy. In fact, I must do everything in my power not to write negatively about this brain thing.

What I'm conscious of is that when I had my miscarriage and lost my womb, I was immediately willing to go into the depths of my sadness about it. It feels like that was harder. It feels like this experience is more technological and mechanical and that it will turn out fine. Then it doesn't. Then it feels like this long delay must be the Universe asking me to take the time to say good-bye to life as I know it. Why else? I mean it's the night before Halloween and that's the scariest thing I can think of having to go through, and here I am going through it. Boo. How do I climb out of that?

My theory is that the only way past these feelings is through them. Coincidentally, I'm working to finish up a project I started in August. I'm writing a poem for each Tarot card in my own Kosmic Egg Tarot Project. It felt like I needed to complete something, and this was accessible. So, I'm writing the last fifteen poems this week. I've been writing the Minor Arcana suit poems, four a day (nearly) for a couple of weeks, and likely I will need to edit them quite a bit, but I'm happy with my "Nines" and wanted to share one them in this post because I feel like it partially encapsulates exactly where I am with my life right now.

To increase your understanding of the system of Tarot, let me just say that the "Nines" specifically represent the "realization" of each suit, sort of the best and worst of it as a big "aha". The Minor Arcana represent, for me, habits and are thus very mutable, and each suit represents a sort of path that we may be on for a period of time...material, emotional, mental and spiritual...textiles, vessels, tools and light. I will post the other "Nine" poems in separate posts...Here is the first:

Nine of Textiles

Those moments of self-realization create
Sustainability through the expertise I
Bring to the fabric of life. There was a
Time when I could not have survived
The challenges of this moment, but now
I am wrapped in warmth that I sewed
Myself and I can enjoy these conditions
That others would find a challenge.
The Aurora Borealis provides the
Unfathomable vision and my wolf is now a
Faithful companion, who assists my
Daily work to thrive, no matter what the
Appearances and circumstances are
Because I know I can adapt to change.

copyright (c) 2011 Amanda Morris Johnson