Learning to Embody Compassion

I've been dealing with an illness for about two months now. The running theme in my head for these two months has been "You know, this could be much worse. Suck it up, keep going. You'll get better eventually."

I went to see my doctor after only a week and a half of coughing, because I knew that something wasn't right. I've had bronchitis before (as a former smoker, I used to get bronchitis about once a year actually) so I am familiar with the symptoms. I knew right away that this was no typical cough.

The doctor agreed, and she immediately put me on a course of antibiotics, as well as an asthma inhaler. After the ten day course, I was feeling slightly better. I figured the antibiotic had worked, and my body was just dealing with lingering mucous that would clear on its own. Another week later, I was still coughing just as much as before the medical treatment and now my sinuses were bothering me too, so back to the doctor I went.

This time I left her office with orders to get a different antibiotic prescription filled, and a shiny new inhaler to use twice a day in addition to the original inhaler (there are two different types of asthma treatments-- the fast-acting "rescue inhaler" and the slower-acting and longer-lasting type.) She still wasn't convinced I had asthma, so this time she ordered an x-ray of my lungs and a blood test for valley fever.

I've lived in Arizona my whole life, but apparently the fungal spores that cause valley fever can be inhaled at any time; living here a long time does not necessarily preclude you from coming down with it. My own doctor had it after 16 years of living here.

The initial test came back positive, but with the caveat that there are a lot of false positive results, and a clear chest x-ray, she could not be entirely sure I had it. I had to wait a week and go for the blood test again, to see if I had developed any new antibodies for the infection.

Today I went for the results of that test, convinced that I would be getting a positive result, and then with that diagnosis we would be able to decide whether the best course of action would be to put me on the antifungal treatment that is commonly used for Valley Fever. When I got the result, it was not entirely what I expected, another inconclusive test result, and an order to go get CT scans done on my nasal passages and my chest.

Because of the severity and length of the sinus infection, she also prescribed yet another course of antibiotics; this will now be my third round, trying to treat this thing.

I have orders to go see a pulmonologist if the CT scans come back with anything unusual. Hearing this was perhaps the final thing that caused me to lose it. I left the office quietly, prescriptions in hand, and got in my car and cried, head against the steering wheel, despite the hotness of it, the car having been sitting in the sun for the better part of an hour.

I can no longer say that I am feeling strong about this. I am tired of being sick. I can tell myself that my illness is not likely to be terminal, and therefore my diagnosis is not as bad as someone with terminal cancer. But that unfortunately does not change how I feel today, which is defeated, fatigued and tired.

I am tired of the doctor visits, I am tired of the diarrhea from the havoc the antibiotics cause in my digestive tract. I am tired of coughing. I am tired of fatigued chest muscles, I am tired of not being able to get a full breath. I am tired of feeling tired all of the time.

And through all of this experience of illness, I have been reading a book called The Places that Scare You, by Pema Chodron. The book teaches about a series of Buddhist  techniques called bodhichitta. The book teaches that there are two types of bodhichitta. One is a type called unconditional bodhichitta. This is the experience of being free from concept, opinion, and our "usual all-caught-uppedness." The second is relative bodhichitta, which is our ability to keep open hearts and minds during times of suffering, and a heart that is open to experiencing the suffering of others, without shutting down or pushing away those bad emotions.   One of the Buddhist teachings is that suffering is one of the three marks of existence (along with that nothing is static or fixed, all is fleeting and impermanent; and egolessness.) According to Suzuki Roshi, "It is only by practicing through a continual succession of agreeable and disagreeable situations that we acquire true strength. To accept that pain is inherent and to live our lives from this understanding is to create the causes and conditions for happiness."

 I think that by denying my unhappiness at my current situation, by continuing to tell myself "it's going to be okay" and "keep your chin up" and "other people have it worse than you, so stop your feeling sorry for yourself" I was not allowing myself to experience the frustration and the anger and upsetness that I feel over this illness. It is only through allowing myself to cry when I feel like crying, without letting myself get caught up in the story of the emotion, or getting carried away by it, but in truly experiencing the feelings as they rise up, can I move through them.

What is amazing to me is that I need to learn this lesson over and over again in this lifetime, and probably through many lifetimes. I know that learning to practice equanimity (acceptance of what is without being carried away into feeling mad or sad about the experience) is a lifelong lesson.

"If we can contact the vulnerability and rawness of resentment or rage or whatever it is, a bigger perspective can emerge. In the moment we choose to abide with the energy instead of acting it out or repressing it, we are training in equanimity, in thinking bigger than right and wrong. This is how the four limitless qualities evolve from limited to limitless: we practice catching our mind hardening into fixed views and do our best to soften. Through softening, the barriers come down."

So today I will choose to practice softening to those emotions that are causing me to harden my heart, I will practice compassion towards myself, and in turn, to others who are also suffering. I will not compare my level of  suffering to others' but I will remind myself to extend compassion and an openness towards others who are also suffering.

May I be free, free from suffering, and the causes of suffering. 
May you be free, free from suffering and the causes of suffering. 
May all beings be free, free from suffering and the causes of suffering. --Buddhist prayer