Solve the Puzzle

Our move home went smoothly and things are going well.  Its good for everyone to be back in our own space.  I'm navigating the house fairly well and trying not to push myself too hard.  There have been a few painful days that have caused me to turn to the Oxy again but overall I'm getting by on the Tylenol.

Tomorrow is my follow up appointment after surgery and I find myself having anxiety.  I'm not worried about seeing the scar or counting the stitches or even the pain of having them removed.  I've done all that before.  None of that makes me anxious.  What I am anxious about is my need to have answers.

I'm not even recovered from this surgery and I am eagerly anticipating the next step in my life with Giant Cell Tumor.  Just like before the surgery, I find my brain trying to work this out, like it is a problem I can solve.  Like a Rubix Cube I pick this puzzle up and worry it, figure it, ask questions, and try again, always seeking an answer that isn't there.

There is no solution.
There is no one who knows what happens next.
There is nothing I can do.

These truths are hard for me to accept.

In "When Things Fall Apart" Pema Chodron writes about trying to slow the habitual momentum of the mind.  Stopping our habitual state of mind and going against the grain of how we normally operate.  She imagines it like a huge wheel with colossal momentum going in a habitual direction that we must slow down and push the other way.

I am working to embrace this idea and stop my mind's habitual returning to the Rubix Cube or puzzle of my tumor and my future.  When I think of my foot, my tumor, my next appointment, etc, I am tempted to pick up the puzzle and work it for awhile, looking for a solution.  But this is not a good thing.  There is no solution and working the puzzle only causes frustration and grief.

So, I am trying to notice this urge to pick up and worry the puzzle and instead to put the puzzle down and accept.  Stop the worry wheel by accepting this moment right now.

I think about the pain I have right now, that is a centering place.  I remember that I did have a choice to make, surgery or meds, pain or fatigue and nausea, and I chose pain.  I remember that I did have power and I exercised it.  And I exercise power now by letting go of my worry.  Stopping the habitual momentum of my worry mind.

So, for today, I am accepting the pain of today.  Accepting the unknown of tomorrow.  Accepting that I do not have control of Giant Cell Tumor and neither does my Doctor.  We are both at its whim and mercy.  And we cannot plan our next move until the tumor makes its next move.  So we cannot do anything now but heal and wait.

Put the puzzle down.