Not Talking. Not Listening.
The last several months my immune system and I have had some challenges. My immune system and I dance an interesting balance back and forth; it is neither normal nor unwell, just somewhere in between.
This last week, I wrote about the latest developments in an article for the Cosmic Cowgirls Magazine called “Are You Leaning In? The TABOO of Not Talking.” I have some sort of strange auto-immune response going on and it has been wreaking havoc with the joints in my hands. There have been mornings where I wake up in such pain I wonder if I will be able to create or paint that day.
It is paralleled, of course, with a spiritual dance happening inside of me. A recalibration of the Divine Feminine and Divine Masculine, of how I hold both inside of me which is shifting the patterns of how I interact with both the masculine and feminine inside and outside of myself.
I’ve been doing tons of listening and asking. I am told what is happening to my hands is temporary. That I am healing and whatever this is, it is moving through me and will be done soon. I spent part of my weekend with my circle of Color of Woman teachers and created healing for my hands and immune system which you can see in the drawings here. (Many thanks to Tina Greene for the amazing Red Thread session in which we did this work.)
I have also been pursuing western medical solutions to the pain and swelling in hopes of easing the symptoms. I want to be able to create, play, paint, work and live my life fully!
So, I’ve been tested, poked, x-rayed, giving medications to try, tested more and none of it has been particularly helpful. The one doctor who is helpful is my immunologist who long ago “got it” about my whacky immune system that lives neither in the normal or the unwell category.
Today I went to see one more doctor, a rheumatologist. The visit started off well; he asked me loads of questions and seemed to be listening to me. However, I started feeling this growing sense of dislocation the more I interacted with him. He started to act like he was hyperventilating and anxious to be out of the room. He said he didn't know what was going on with me, but he had some ideas.
Then he began to list the number of tests he wanted me to have. Started handing me a stack of things to read. Muttered about possible medications. I asked, why these tests? We need to gather more information. I explained I am an artist and pay for my own insurance. Are these tests really needed?
All of my symptoms began on a particular day in May with a very clear allergic response to something. I asked him about the role of that response. He discounted it while also saying he didn't understand it. My body began to feel even more dislocated and unhappy.
I let him hand me all this paperwork on tests, articles, etc. and walked out after thanking him for his time. I walked right past the labs and out to my car and got in and just sat while my intuition very clearly told me I did not need to do any of these tests; I needed to leave and go home.
On the drive home, I realized I was angry. Looking back over the conversation and his choice of language and his actions, he did what many doctors have done to me. They put me into a familiar box for them because they do not have a clue what to do with me or my immune system. Grrr.
Once home, I set the paperwork aside and just shook my head. I do not know exactly how I will proceed but I do know it will involve listening to my body and what she needs.
Musing upon this, I suddenly discovered my hearing aid (I’ve had one for 15 plus years) was not in my left ear. I freaked. These things are digital and expensive. I changed my clothes into one of those idiotic gowns at the doctors office and must have pulled it out inadvertently. Eeek!
I called the office and of course they were gone for the day. I searched the house, bathroom, car thinking maybe I had dropped it. Then I leaned over to pick up something off the floor and felt something not quite in the right place if you know what I mean. Looking down, I suddenly realized the hearing aid had fallen into my bra!!
After I got done saying thank you – and then stopped laughing, it hit me. The doctor really wasn’t listening to me and my body just confirmed that. Grin.