Massive headache. This is the down portion of the waking up. More burning of stuff. And the more "I" think it's "me" the more it burns, the more emotional smoke fills the air, the more "I" choke.
Scheduled the surgery, putting things in motion. Now deeper layers are revealed, deeper pools of fear, of hope. Dread and hopelessness, like morning mist that burns off by mid-morning. Then comes back around in different ways. Pain. Money. Death. Loss.
Talking with different parties - folks at the doc's office doing the surgery, my various insurance companies. Craziness. Enough cancer to need surgery, but not enough for it to be called cancer by the insurance providers, and therefor though there's coverage, there is still a lot that isn't covered, despite the fact that the state health insurance plan is excellent and I have three extra forms of supplemental insurance. Because of the "in situ" situation, the estimated bills are rolling in, the massive portions that won't be covered by insurance. Or at least massive in my world. $496, $516, $794.
Talking with the insurance rep, I start laughing and say: okay, so if I can't afford to do the surgery now, because you folks won't pay for all of the $7000, but wait until it gets really serious and spreads all around in me, you will pay the $30,000 for it? I'm not laughing sarcastically, but genuinely, and so she starts laughing too, and we just sit there, our giggling going back and forth over the phone line, her "yes" only making us laugh harder.
I speak with the billing person at the doc's and she is kind, but firm. I have to at least put down $248 before the surgery, and that's just for the surgery, not for anesthesia or the surgical room, etc. And she apologizes. I tell her I understand, that they are a business after all, and things are tough for all businesses these days it seems, even the HooHah docs. As we talk back and forth, I feel like I'm bargaining, but in this very gentle way, just being honest and unemotional about lack of cash. I lay it out: I need to postpone the surgery until at least the beginning of the year, when my health savings account is replenished. And she says in the kindest voice: keep the surgery date, we'll figure the rest out, just know that you'll have to go thru this sort of thing with everyone else too - the hospital, anesthesiologist etc.
I hang up. And feel sicker than I've felt in many weeks. Head hurts. Back hurts. May I lay down and just die now, please? It feels like chemo in my veins, though I know it's just fear. That curling away from life feeling. Stress hormones released and on the move. But I don't act on any of it. Just keep plugging back into work. When I send a request for time off for the surgery, the first time I'm letting him know that something is up, my boss sends me a short, curt email with one word on it: approved. He's mad that I'm going to miss the conference I was awarded a scholarship to attend, as a delegate from our office, because the surgery is scheduled right after the conference, and there is no way I can do both. And the No, the funk, the bad swirls around and in me.
But then I remember that everything is okay, it's all okay. There is no urge to call someone to fix the problem, or fear that there won't be enough money. Panic may be trilling through my nervous system, but something deeper knows: all ya gotta do honey is go with What Is. Because Life will show me what needs to be done by what is and isn't provided. If there isn't enough money to do the surgery now, then having it done later is what is indicated, and I'm cool with that. Even if it means it turns into real cancer and I slip this mortal coil for lands yet unknown.
All is well. This fear and panic will pass. This bundle of thoughts and feelings, like the others before it, won't last longer than an hour or so. Because the truth is stronger than the delusion. That 50% line between trusting the mind or trusting Life was crossed in the past year, and now, no matter how horrendous or frightening or hopeless it may seem, it all drains out as the knowledge rises once more: you may not know how, or why, but Life has got this handled, and more will be revealed, just go with what is occurring, do the practical things you feel to do, let the rest of it go, snuggle kitties, open the windows and feel the cool night air, laugh at the absurdity of it all . . .
I still feel shitty, but I get on with work, then treat myself to a comfort lunch of a PT's burger with no bun and extra extra pickles and spicy fries. By the time I return to HiveWorld, I'm cheerful again, relaxed, and talk trash with my hilarious coworker, and again the aria sings in my system: thank you Life, thank you for such an amazing Life, thank you for taking such good care of me, what an amazing life!
And then I go home, take a shower, and head out to teach a two-hour class on Shamanic Journeying. And because of the stress of the day I'm more than a little strung out, more than a little tired, and so instead of my usual high energy teaching style, I relax, sit back, and let the participants' experiences run the class, let them talk and listen to one another, trust that I don't need to teach so much as keep saying over and over and over Yes, Yes, Yes. And every single person leaves with a profound shift inside of them, and instead of attributing it to me, they are amazed at what occurred inside of them, which really is the point of a class like this, don't you think?
And when I get home, and lay on the couch, and snuggle kitties, I know that the real secret is to let it all go, let Life handle it, trust Life, trust Life, trust Life . . .
Yes . . .
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