CONTROVERSIAL TOPIC -- hear me out...

[Andrea Barnett Budin]

But understanding, and becoming aware of, the nature of the psychosomatic process, is more than edifying. It is empowering. We can't help what occured for whatever reason. But we can help with knowledge and awareness of the power of our thoughts -- to our great benefit! That is the point.

I lived most of my life on Long Island where the predominance of bc is the worst in the entire country. They wonder -- is the something in the water, in the pesticides (my house was built on a one time potato field) as were many others. Dix Hills was largely farmland. North Shore Hosp and many other agencies are investigating these and other possibilities for well over a decade, w/still now specifid conclusions. There is nothing I could do but filter my water, watch what I ate (low fats and carbs and red meat) and pray from time to time. Of course, I assumed bc, though dreaded beyond words and congnizant of the awful statistics, no matter where you lived, would happen -- to someone else. You never truly imagine it, or any great tragedy could happen to you. YOUR house wouldn't burn down. You would never personally experience kidnapping or the like.

But as I was living with a smile on my face, a genuine expression of my Spirit, I felt clinically depressed, struggling to make sense of my traumatic childhood and somehow fix it. I was wounded but didn't get that. I was angry, blaming, resentful, unforgiving, mad as hell. But bc helped lead me to the answers to finding joy and peace.

Even as I discovered that my thoughts were creating my agonizing, immobilizing back pain -- I never felt guilty! I had no idea there could be such a connection. Even w/structural malformation and visible MRI disc impingement. I felt no shame or blame there. WHAT I FELT IMMEDIATELY WAS WOW -- WE HAVE BEEN GRANTED SO MUCH POWER! My head reeled with the possible applications of this Secret of the Universe.

Dr. Sarno told me that studies had been done on people w/the same narrowing of the spine (which is natural w/age) and w/bulging, intruding discs -- WHO HAD "NO" PAIN. Really? He cited these various studies w/specificity. Amazing. Okay my malfunction and bulging L4 and 5, etc. doesn't necessarily cause the pain. So where is it coming from?

The pain decreases when we allow ourselves to more fully feel our sadness or grief or anger, etc., Sarno explained. I tended to suppress my outrage, as I'd learned to do as a child of a father who could not tolerate seeing me cry or look sad. In fact, studies show that if you smile, you begin to release the same chemicals that come from naturally smiling. I had adopted a natural, perpetual smile as it made me feel better and made others respond so wonderfully. Smiling, and laughter, increase our sense of well-being. So I use my sense of humor at all times, in the oddest of places, it just pops up. I do not like movies w/violence (which are truly difficult to avoid these days), but seek movies that I can learn something from (Waitress) and that make me laugh (Little Miss Sunshine). We are all dysfunctional, in varying degrees. There is no NORMAL.

Watching my mother's long death, Alzheimer's, inability to speak, understand, read or write, play cards, have a conversation and then her paralysis as diff brain parts were dying off -- was indescribably painful for me. It began in the late '80s (her late 60s). Ihad round the clock nurses for her for as long as I could afford to. We had a hoya lift to transfer her from bed to wheelchair. I managed a mini hospital staff. I marketed for her. I paid her bills. I grieved for her. (I wrote her eulogy 5 yrs before she died, as I started to forget the person she was, first writing avid reader, up on everything, volunteer all her life. Then the words became sentences and they became paragraphs.) My mother would stare into space blankly. I was caring for the shell of my mother as best I could. I hired ambulettes to transport my mom to doc offices as the nurse and I could not manage this alone.

Paul and I searched for Geriatric Care facility. She was not a candidate for assisted living. We were on a waiting list, expecting the call any minute and knowing we had 24 hrs to move her in or we'd lose our spot. Ev time the phone rang my heart leapt. I had hr packed and ready. One the day she went into the home, I "decorated" her room as cheerily as I could w/items I'd bought and saved. I put up a bulletin board I had made at the frame stare and pics I collected of her as a child, a beautiful young woman, w/my father who was long gone, pics of me and my sister as children and present, and the grandkids, pics of her parents -- all to hopefully remind her and give her a sense of being surrounded by love. It hung on the wall facing my mom's bed. An added perk to this was that the nurses had a sudden knowing of the woman who was now a shell. She was such a beauty. Those pictures. Wow. I can see her. They would ask me who was who and then review this w/my mom in my absence. Sometimes she'd smile back.

But the toll that took on me (from the late 80s to 01) was beyond mammoth. I was dx in '95. I never told my own mother I had bc. She wouldn't understand and if she did, it would gravely upset her. There was nothing she could do, but I felt, how could such a profound event take place in my life and me never mention it to her. I'd discuss my dghtrs and husb and the events of the day, prattling on. Surely the psychological impact of that horrendous ordeal for her, and more for me to watch, as she seemed not to know, had to contrib to disarming my imm sys. Not my fault. Just life happening. No blame, no anger, no resentment.

But had I known of the potential physical toll of my emotional upheaval I would have been better armed, to vent more, to find a peaceful place midst the turmoil of it all. I had a thousand pounds on both my shoulders of responsibility. (My sister was having her own family problems and therefore I was The One, it all fell to me, as if I were an only child.) I wanted to call my brother! But I never had a brother!!

Waves of sadness swept through me. There is no hope for a person in my mother's position at that time. My prayers turned to pleading w/God to release her from this tragedy and let her go in peace to a better place. I prayed ev time I left my mom, unable to feed or bathe herself. I thought I was dealing w/it, but now in retrospect -- not so well. Packing up her apartment and disposing of all contents in one way or another was so painful. My dghtr Ali helped me w/the papers. I couldn't focus on what needed to be saved and what could be tossed.I was disposing of her belongings as if she had passed on, but she was still alive. I felt I was intruding, peeking into drawers and crannies.

Surely I am not a self-destructive person. Never thought such a thing. I have been a survivor since childhood. That is how I have always seen myself. I do not see you or any one who has ever faced this dasterdly disease as bringing it on themselves. That is absurd.

Let us all do as Adriana says. She is much like me in so many ways. Long time survivors who have no intention of doing otherwise. I don't believe we were just LUCKY. Nor does UCLA, or many places of prestigious med research done on our behalf. Let us all add our personal experiences and best guesses and share our readings with one another to better understand the bc conundrum and try to get a better handle on it.

Please, ladies, don't any one of you feel an iota of guilt, blame or shame. That is totally unfounded. We are all here unwillingly but here all the same. Let us put our heads together and offer our heartfelt thoughts. Let us network our collected info (beyond the med percentages). INSTEAD LET US STRIVE TO ALTER THOSE PERCENTAGES -- TO OUR ADVANTAGE!