Tag: meditation

Day 15: Week 3 done

That’s about the most important thing today.  Week three is done.  And I kicked its ass.

I’m pretty tired right now, but a lot of that has to do with all of the excitement from my many visitors, and all of the exciting things we have done.

The pizza party was awesome.  Our hike was really aggressive.  All the way from the bottom of the marquam trail to Council Crest (elevation 1,100 ft), and then back down to my parents house on Sherwood (elevation 600ft).

And today we went out for really nice dinner.  P picked it.

I was freaking out on the way there.  Just an exhaustion/hunger/panic episode.  Tired, and claustrophic in the car.  Everyone was loud and boisterous, and my mom was getting lost, and driving erratically.  I was crying quietly for the last 5 minutes.  And when we finally got there, i just got out of the car at a stop sign, saying “i need to get out”  and walked into an empty field/lot.  I sat down and cried and then meditated.  And then did childs pose.  It calmed me down a bit.

I had to go out again towards the end of dinner because I was so tired I was getting to the point where I couldn’t take it.  So I went out there and did a little sit.  P sat with me for a little bit.  It was nice.  The sun was setting right into our closed eyes.

day 12, a meditation question

The drugs were fine today.  I mean, I felt like shit, but it was okay.  I am not going to let it keep me down.  I had headache and chills and fever when I got home.  Not as much of a spike as the first day restarting, but I felt worse longer.

Last night I had a meditation conundrum.  I realized I might be doing it wrong.  I was using music to block out the sound.

so I asked three meditation-minded friends a question:

can you listen to music?  what do you do when your environment is really loud?

i know you are supposed to do it silently.  and i had just listened to one guided meditation by gil fronsdal where he says explicitly that it is not allowed, and that it is a crutch.  his reasons make sense.  but he lives somewhere in marin county.  you could hear cars driving by every three or four minutes, but that was the only sound.  plus he’s an expert, and i’m a beginner, and I need this for my health.  it may be a crutch, but people with broken legs use a crutch until their leg is strong enough, no?

when I do it at the infusion center at the hospital i use early ambient brian eno to block out the noise.  which is about as close as you can come to listening to white noise.  the center is loud, with phones ringing and machines beeping, and all kinds of old folks gabbing away and trading war stories about their chemo?

or also thinking about when i go back to nyc, and the apartment is so loud.  just the apartment.  people upstairs, people in hallway, friggin loud refridgerator.  i dont expect that will be anywhere near as bad as the hospital, and yet being able to do it at the hospital is crucial for my calm.

I asked three people.  My massage/healer/counselor person, HT who is a verifiable Tibettan Buddist (proving her street cred by flying across the country to hear one of the holy men speak), and SL who whispered something about learning to meditate across the studio table very early after my diagnosis (with his trademark crafty one-sided raised eyebrow.)

My massage person said that yes, it was a crutch, but because I was not using the music for entertainment, but for more of a white noise effect, it was okay for now.  The most important thing was that I was getting what I needed from the meditation.  That the music is familiar to me, and therefore comforting; part of the problem with the the infusion center is that it is scary, so the comforting effect may help me be more mindful.  (we spent more time talking today, than we did massaging.  that is def what i needed today.)

SL is hardcore (as usual), while acknoweldging that rules are always meant to be broken (also as usual).  He wrote:

I use earplugs sometimes.  There’s also something called sound meditation where you try to hear every sound but not focus on any of them.  Or something like that.  I have only *heard* about it. har har.

This might be helpful?  I haven’t heard it myself…

http://www.buddhanet.net/audio-meditation.htm

Mindfulness of sound and thought, firstly instructs on how to use sound as an object of meditation then asks the listener to shift attention to thoughts. The second part of this track is more instruction on how to manage difficult thoughts when they arise rather than a guided meditation.

But the thing to remember is that the noise out there is just like the noise of your thoughts. They’re just gonna be there. Always. And what you’re learning is how to get past the noise (noisy thoughts or audio noise) and let it go. A busy room is tricky, but it’s a great place to practice!

Also, do what you gotta do.  The rules aren’t rules.

HT is a softy, though wise. She wrote:

of course.

and no, you are not supposed to do it silently. at least, it’s not the only way. that’s only a part of it. and there are totally all kinds of different ways to meditate.

yes, the music is a crutch, but i think it is important to identify what it is aiding. it’s aiding you to stay calm, which at this time i imagine is very important in getting through your treatments.

in the future, when you have a little bit more ‘space’ (the japanese word is ‘yoyuu’…can’t quite describe it but maybe S would have a better word), when you’re back in nyc etc. i imagine that would be a situation in which you could develop your ‘meditation’ further- which from what i have learned so far is about trying to be in the present, looking at oneself, and it is a way in which we can develop our mind as a muscle- our mind to stay calm amidst all the chatter of thoughts, desires, insecurities, the sound of cars, apartments etc.

So I went halfway.  I listened to the guided meditation tape, but I turned up the volume so that the hiss of the recording noise and the MP3 compression noise was loud enough to just dull the sounds around me.  I could hear talking, but I couldn’t understand the words.  That was enough.  I just need to get through these next two weeks.

I did get a chance this evening to meditate “in silence.”  Right before dark I walked up the Marquam trail to Fairmount, a steep uphill 15 minute hike.  When I got to the top I sat on a rock and waited for my dad to come pick me up and take me back down.

It was dark by then, and not many cars were driving by.  It is true, what SL said.  Its all noise.  Even the swishing of the branches of the trees, the rustling of the leaves, and the scurring of the squirrels are noise that you have to block out to concentrate.  I could see the lights of each car through my eyelds, and I spent most of my time resisting the urge to look and see if the car that was approaching was going to stop for me.  As it turns out I was distracted by most of the cars that passed, but not my father’s car when he arrived.  Maybe he turned out his lights?  Maybe he was just going slow enough that the engine was mostly silent.  His arrival and my opening my eyes was very peaceful.

Then I got rather feverish on the ride back down(!)

UPDATE: SL points out that I got my facts wrong, and that it is easy to be a hater:

Also, Gil Fronsdal is in Redwood City – which is why you hear the cars going by in his talks.  Kornfield is in this totally remote part of Marin County or Fairfax or something.  Where it is almost totally silent except for the trees and everything else.

What’s funny is when I’ve been to Spirit Rock (the remote location) people will come in late and they make noise and you just *hate* them.  Even though you’re not supposed to.  “what the fuck just sit down already”  Then you gotta work with the noise AND the fact that you’ve turned this person you’ve never even seen into the worst person in the world.

I’ve heard about long retreats where people fall asleep and start snoring.  Or my friend Annie was on a silent retreat (no speaking for days) where someone’s watch alarm went off every hour or something and they never thought to turn it off.  When you’re not speaking to anyone it’s really easy to turn that person into the worst person in the world in your mind.

Sleeping potion

this is the guided imagery meditation i do right as i am going to sleep, which is “an especially powerful time” according to Belleruth.

Belleruth Naparstek’s Meditations to Relieve Stress

It’s kind of supercheese.  But it totally works:

i haven’t made it past the first five minutes

i fall asleep each time

that’s the idea, of course. she says so. in my ear.

i have one about Cancer, but i have been kind of scared of it.  but i will try it out soon.

Interferon reboot: day 11 or day one again

It wasn’t as bad as the first day for sure, but I did have the chills/fever pattern. I was so worried about my liver function being low enough, I didn’t take any preventative Tylenol (as I had been the first two weeks), so I immediately felt the effects even as I was getting up from the infusion chair. And definitely on the way home in the car.

When I got home I took some Tylenol and Advil, and crawled into bed with all the covers and the heating pad. My muscles were on the threshold of contracting and doing the chills/shake thing that Bob told me about. But I didn’t go into shakes. I hugged the heating pad around my chest, slept off the chill for an hour and a half, and woke up sweating with a mild fever feeling. And hungry.

Following my Naturopath’s advice, I ate a lot, exercised a bit (15 minute walk), and am about to go meditate. I feel much more in control mentally. And, of course, I am control minded, shall we say. (Appending the work “freak” just seems unsavory in this context…)

Naturopath 2.0: goals and strategies

i got enough sleep before the meeting with the naturopath.

basically it was kind of like therapy.  except from a cancer survivor.  whose whole deal is finding ways to win the mental war and compensate for the nastiness of the physical war in the body.

he gave me B-12 vitamins.  b/c I don’t eat meat, which is mostly true.  (did you know that pescatarian was added to the dictionary today? So was Fanboy!!! — http://edition.cnn.com/2008/US/07/07/new.dictionary.words.ap/index.html)  and it will also help my liver function

and we talked a lot about goals and how i need to overcome this mentally.  it was a lot of information all at once. and it was just the same information as the last time, but more specific.  lets see if i can remember:

1. I personally have to take on the mental battle.  The drs are doing the chemical stuff, but I have to win the mental battle.

2. I need to set goals.  Part of the problem is that I am just reacting right now.  Reactionary.  I feel bad, I feel good.  I need to set short term and long term goals.  So I have something to aim for.  My long term goal is full quality of life during the 11 month treatment period.  My short term goal is to make it through the next week feeling good, with more energy, and more calmness.  And to have liver enzyme counts that allow me to finish up the drugs.

To accomplish the next week’s goal he told me I need to eat more (whatever I can eat, whenever I can eat), continue to exercise, take my B-12, and I forget the rest.  Oh, meditation.  Meditation.

I said to him that meditation seemed to work, but I didn’t understand why. And he said something that was kind of stunning, but I kind of forget what it was.  maybe it was kind of mystical like ‘maybe you know more than you realize.’

Anyway, it was really early in the morning, and it was so much information, but I forget.  The next meeting is after noon, so I’ll be in better shape.

The other thing he kept saying is that I have to move through this.  I can’t be passive.  I have to move through this, and arrive at a state where I am at peace with the cancer.  Because, as he says, I will never get to the point where the cancer is a non-issue.  He is 19 years out, and he still thinks about it.  As he says, this is now version 2.0 of my life.  And there is no going back.  But there is making peace.

And if there is no making peace, then I play victim.  And that is lame.  I don’t want to play victim.  Laaaame.

i think there was a bunch more, but that is what i remember now, two hours later.

now it is time to leave to get my Interferon.  week 3 begins.  hopefully this will go easy.  and my liver will stay happy.

Chemo report day 2

It is wednesday at 1pm.  I leave for my third chemo treatment in an hour.  I feel like total shit.

Yesterday seemed like it was going well.  I woke up feeling okay.  Not 100%, but kind of like I had a hangover.  I felt pretty okay going in to chemo.

While I was there I met a man named Bob who had finished the full Interferon sequence two months previous.  He was in just to get IV fluids.  He was still experiencing fatigue.  He offered to answer questions. I asked him if it got better or worse, and he said that after the four weeks of high dose it pretty much stays the same.  The first week is the worst. The fever and chills get better, but the fatigue builds through week four and doesn’t go away.  I asked him if he had been able to go to work, and he paused for a bit, and said kinda: 3 to 4 days a week, for 5 hours a day.  He said that by 2pm you are just done.  Not physically tired, just done.

He remarked at how young I was.  He was the next youngest, and he was mbe 50.  Everyone else was in their 70s and above. The place was full, and loud.  I was happy that I could meditate through it the way I did.

He also asked if I had a history of clinical depression.  I told him that I didn’t, but that I had been put on prophylactic antidepressants by my Psychiatrist.  He asked which, and I told him Lexapro.  He noded, and said that is what he was on, and that it helped.  Everyone asks about the depression factor.  It must be serious.

Other than Bob, chemo was uneventful.  We left and got home on time.  I ate earlier than the day before.  That helped a lot.  I started to get a headache, as expected, but it wasn’t as bad as the day before.  The headache built, but never peaked like it did the first day.  My friend C came over, and we had a nice time hanging out.  I haven’t seen him since Thanksgiving.

I felt so much better.  I started to think this whole thing would be a piece of cake.  right…

I curled up in bed and didn’t fall asleep.  All night.  I was restless, and nervous. I was afraid to take an Ambien on top of the Klonopin, so I didn’t.  And so I didn’t sleep.  As the night grew on and on, I tried music.  I got up and then tried to go back to bed a second time.  I even tried masturbating, b/c sometimes that release lets me sleep: I couldn’t even come b/c my left hand has the IV in it and it hurt too much to hold myself.

And plus, by that time I was getting cold.  I didn’t really realize it happening, but I got cold.  Really cold.  By the time I realized it, I had the chills.  I put on an extra blanket.  But was still shivering. My dad came in at 630 to get me to take my next set of tylenol, but i was already wide awake.  He seemed hurt that i hadn’t wakened him to put more blankets on me, but I didn’t even realize how cold I was.  He went back to bed, and I put two more blankets on my bed.   Six total, I think.  Mbe seven.  Still cold, though slowly warming.

When my mom came in around 8pm with the dogs I finally was warm.  I held one of the dogs for a moment, before she ran downstairs to go out for the morning pee.  Then I finally fell asleep for two hrs.

I woke with a start at 10.  Confused about where I was and what time it was.  I knew I had to be somewhere, but couldn’t remember where and when.  After jumping out of bed, I remembered I had physical therapy at 11.

Today I really am scared of the chemo.  I was full of energy the last two days.  Today I need to get my energy up.  I feel like hell.  Like the worst kind of hangover.  No sleep.

Time to rest for the remaining 40 minutes before I have to go.

ADENDUM:

I leave in 5 minutes.  I took a shower, changed my clothes, and pretended I was getting dressed for a sporting competition.  A soccer match.  Or a ski race.  It worked.  I’m amped up.  I know I’m weak underneath, but I’m pumped on the surface.  Ready for this.  Ready right now.  Tired, but ready.

Time to go.

First day chemo report

my aunt (who has been doing chemo for two years for lung cancer) told me to “visualize building walls”

i went into this part of the hospital where they have a lot of big kinda-comfy chairs, they hook me up w/ an IV and put in 1 litre of saline solution. towards the end of that, they piggy-back on the Interferon.  all told it takes about 3 hours. a lot of time

then i went home and waited for “it” to hit, whatever “it” was going to be. “it” ended up being headache, and really feverish joint aches.  followed by chills, and then a nasty fever w/ sweats. it totally sucked around midnight – chills alternating w/ fever – sweated out my bed.  but i feel today just kind of hungover.  supposedly the chills drop off and the fatigue builds over time.

today’s thinking: i can do this

when i went in i did the breathing meditation i was working on w/ my massage/healer person.  i did it to brian eno’s music for airports, which is probably my ‘desert island album.’  it is nothing but perfectly syncopated arrhythmical tape loops of pianos and other synths.  and so calming.  though some people cant stand it.

then i switched to the first half of the jack kornfield meditation for beginners cds that a fam friend gave me.  i did the breathing meditation.  and mindfulness.  and then right when it ended and he rang a bell and i opened my eyes, the nurse was approaching to talk to me.  timing = perfect.

she stopped by to tell me about the chemo drugs.  the interferon.  its interesting.  in nyc they never used the word chemo.  here they only use the word chemo.  i can’t tell if it is some kind of technical/chemical differentiation, or a philosophical/emotional diff.  like the nyc’ers are all about denial and pretending it isn’t what it is.  and pdx is all about just calling it what it is.  but isn’t that a flip for what i would expect?

she kept telling me how expensive the drugs were.  each daily dosage is $9,000.  insurance covers it.  but $9K.  crazy.

yesterday, about 3 hrs before i went in, something clicked.  and all of a sudden i had no more anxiety.  all of a sudden it was ‘game on’.   like i felt 3hrs before a big soccer match, or a ski race.  i was prepared, calm, collected, and ready to kick ass.  i was walking on the balls of my feet w/ a spring in my step.  bring it on.

i used to be a competitive ski racer (in college.)  skin-tight downhill suit. helmets.  and very very fast descents down icy icy steep slopes.  i was pretty good.  i never won anything but considering i was racing against ppl who were ex-world cup racers and ex-olympians (25 year old romanians and czech olympians who came to obscure US colleges on skiing scholarships), it is understandable why i never won… LOL.

ski race pr0n attached below.  this is mbe 10 yrs old.  someone sent it to me about two weeks ago. first pic i have ever had of my skiing, really.  many were taken, but none got to me.  here it is 10 yrs later…  its hard to tell b/c the shutter speed was so high, but i was prob doing about 45mph at that moment.

off i go for day two.  it will be at 230 every day, for the next four weeks.

m

Hello World: Melanarrative

I am a 30 year old Brooklynite who was diagnosed with Stage III Melanoma in February 2008. Today, I was meditating through my second session of chemotherapy, and came to the conclusion I should be blogging all of this experience.  I have been sending emails out to my close friends, but it all forms a coherent narrative.  A Melanarrative, so to speak.  It all came to me.  Meditating to Brian Eno’s Music For Airports.

There have been a lot of changes in the last four months.  A lot.  Like meditating.  I only started that two weeks ago.  At the insistence of of the Psychiatrist when he proscribed me Klonopin. He told me how aggressive he was about treating things with drugs, but three times told me I needed to learn how to meditate.

I have been writing emails to my friends and family from the beginning.  I will continue to do that, and post much of that here.  I will also return to those emails and post them here as necessary.

I am a creative person who does things kind of like this blog for a practice, but I feel strongly that this remain an anonymous endeavor.  Some of you reading this know who I am.  I put my trust in you to keep it anonymous.  Not because I am ashamed of what has happened to me.  But because I do not want that to become *who* I am.  It is something I have.  And experience I have had.  But not *who* I am.

I am writing this because it is a way for me to work out my thoughts and feelings.  And maybe someone else out there will find it useful, or interesting, or similar, or different from their experience.

I am writing this because I have already forgotten what it felt like the day before I found out my diagnosis.  I am writing this to preserve my own memory.