Transformation Time
My Dear Intuitive Readers,
Last week, I explained in Just Breathe my 8-month health decline as I solicitously searched for solutions to my breathing issues. This week, my intuition kept me going during my week of bedrest and silence, and then how I emerged from my couch cocoon as like a butterfly after the surgery.
My Couch Cocoon
Did you know, butterflies don’t get much rest before transformation? Yes, in the cocoon, where we all assume they are resting—they don’t rest at all. They are busy inside the cocoon and the chrysalis transforming into a new creature.
It was the same with me. I was on steroids that barely let me sleep 4 hours a night. And those restless 4 hours were spent perched precariously up on pillows, sleeping straight up on my couch cocoon. Yes, dear readers, with an 80 percent blocked airway I could no longer sleep propped up–but straight up. And I chose the couch cocoon as my headquarters because I could sleep, parent, work, and see who was at the front door all from the couch without having to walk to and from the bedroom.
Forget staircases and going up steps—in the end, just walking around the house had become my challenge.
In fact, my friend Mary even urged me to order a cane on Amazon; when I walked my lack of oxygen, and the steroids affected my balance, and I would sometimes run into the walls.
My labored breathing and gasping (called Stridor) caused my youngest son Ben to say, “Mom, you can’t go on living like this.”
True that Ben, I could not.
My surgeon in Philadelphia had given me a challenge: wait for a week to get a surgery that would transform me, while on bed rest. He also advised me to rest my voice.
This was a challenge indeed. While I love to talk and use my voice, I had to try to turn within. I spent a lot of my time meditating, praying, visualizing, and manifesting my future.
I’d sit in couch cocoon, surrounded by a sea of pillows, water bottles, and medication bottles and visualize myself healed: I saw myself running on the beach at Roosevelt Inlet by the Delaware Bay. I tried to imagine what the wet sand on my barefoot would feel like then, and how my lungs would feel finally full of air. I pictured myself smiling and talking to others a mile a minute without needing to pause and gasp for air or cough and wheeze. I tried to feel the joy and gratitude and I thanked God ahead for the miracle that I just knew was about to unfold for me.
Sounds of Silence: Finding the Words Within
While my mind was manifesting and mediating, and our bellies were full of fabulous food my friends and neighbors so generously brought to us that week, I had to face a bigger challenge: fear.
At some points during that week, I broke down and googled things like cancer chances, things that could go wrong with my surgery, and other not-so-positive things. In those moments, I’d always tell reach out to someone in my circle to tell them and then focus on someone other than myself.
I also asked God what I could do all week while my kids were in school or out in the world and I was there on that couch. And in the silence, I heard God tell me this: you can’t talk well, but you can write!
Of course, he was right about writing.
I’ve loved writing since I was a little girl. I’ve written 4 (unpublished) children’s books, 100s of freelance newspaper articles, and poetry galore. But whenever the kids got busy (um, like when are they not busy?), or I got lost in a new relationship, I’d put my pen down, close my laptop, and stop making time for something I love to do.
In the silence and the stillness, I heard the sounds I needed to hear—the sounds of my intuition. I began to write regularly for the first time in years. Thus, this silence and stillness turned out to be a gift that was disguised as a challenge. Not all gifts come in pretty packages in life.
Manifesting Compassion: The Real Deal Dr. McDreamy of Philadelphia
I was literally counting the minutes until the day of the surgery. I was beyond the fear of anesthesia or intubation. I was just done with the wheezing and the gasping.
When that day finally came and I was back at Thomas Jefferson University Hospital, they wheeled away, I said goodbye to my ex-husband (who had driven me to Philadelphia for the surgery) in the classiest Darth Vader voice I could muster.
I think it’s important to mention that in addition to being intuitive, I am a bit of a rapid manifester. A few days prior, I told a friend that I was grateful for knowing what I have and being so close to getting it fixed with the surgery. However, I told her that I was craving something: compassion.
Specifically, I wanted compassion from a doctor. So many of them had dismissed me and didn’t take time to really hear me. Their egos were large, and their level of understanding and compassion was small or non-existent.
I wanted compassion not only because I felt I deserved it—but intuitively, I knew I needed to heal. Compassion is something that I give so freely to others; and now, I was ready to receive. So, I visualized it and felt it, and believed it was coming to me. I even thanked God for it. And I was about to get it.
They wheeled me into the pre-op, and I was soon met with an angel.
This angel was disguised as a 6-foot-tall, gorgeous anesthesiologist. Hello, Dr. Real Deal McDreamy! If I had sufficient air in my airways at that moment, he would have taken my breath away!
The doctor quietly went over my medications. Everything went swimmingly until the final medicine—one that I had taken the night before that slows the digestion of food. It was his turn to gasp.
“Last night?” he said. “You were supposed to stop that medication a week ago!”
No one had told me! Or if they had, in my sleep deprived, low-oxygenated brain did not process that critical tidbit of information.
“Is that bad?” I asked innocently, small tears welling up in the corners my eyes.
“Well, according to the AMA I should stop this surgery now and wait one week,” he said.
I cried silently (because I didn’t have enough air to sob), and squeaked out these words, “NO. I cannot live this way one second longer! I must have this surgery today! I must.”
And he grabbed my hand. Suddenly, I was transported in my mind to a medical sitcom episode, starring me and Dr. Real Deal McDreamy. My heart raced, due to lack of oxygen. (Or was it his eyes? You decide.)
This medical miracle of a man gave me compassion. He said he understood me and offered me a sonogram of my stomach. Frankly, this was the best offer from a man that I’d had all year: compassion and a solution! The doctor said if none of them saw any food he would go through with the surgery despite the risk of aspiration. That’s where undigested food from your stomach comes up in your lungs during surgery.
Suddenly, his medical minions appeared out of nowhere: 20 doctors and nurses, with a sonogram machine. They gathered to look at my sonogram and we all collectively held our breath: no food!
The good doctor dismissed his medical minions (it’s a teaching hospital) and said he was ok with the risk of microscopic food remaining in my stomach if I was. And of course I said, “Yes! Let’s do this!"
They wheeled me in the operating room and my lead surgeon, Dr. Spiegel, was telling like 20 people in excruciating detail what they were going to do during the surgery.
At one point, he looked at me and said, “Oh you are awake. Why? Usually, people are asleep by now.”
Dr. Real Deal McDreamy was late! I forgave him. In 8 months, he was the only doctor to give me such compassion and understanding. His face was the last thing I remember before falling sleep.
Transformation Time: Butterfly Jenn
My next memory was this: I opened my eyes and sat straight up! No nausea. No sleepiness. But I was filled with JOY and OXYGEN!
I could breathe normally! I could talk – normally! No stridor, no wheezing! I immediately started talking and could not stop.
“Hey! Nurses! Look at me. I can breathe!” I said excitedly. “I can sit and mediate and do yoga breathing! Look, I can breathe fast and slow and talk so well! I want cranberry juice! Can I eat? I want to walk down the hall by myself. Can I walk, because I bet I can!”
They were astounded at the results of my laser surgery. And so was my ex: when they took me upstairs to the other recovery room, he found me surrounded by a picnic of hospital food, happily talking non-stop to my nurse. Darth Vader Jenn had been replaced by Chatty Kathy! His expression was priceless.
So were my sons’ faces. When I got home and ate and took my steroids and medicines, I proceeded to talk to them non-stop for like 10 minutes without pausing to gasp or take deep breaths.
Christian said, “It’s amazing. We keep waiting for you to gasp or cough or wheeze and you just keep talking!”
I laughed. They laughed. It was a miracle!
Oh, oh, O2 – I love you!
The following days, like a beautiful butterfly emerging on a magical sunny day, I too spread my wings to fly. Two days later I did something I couldn’t do for months: I walked to my mailbox, one mile roundtrip!
I was overjoyed to be able to talk and move that I couldn’t stop! I started walking 2-4 miles a day. I walked the beach in Lewes. I hula hooped during my lunch hour while eating a sandwich. One day, I called my friend Maggie, and we talked for hours–because we could! It had been ages since we could do that.
A week after my surgery, I was allowed to drive myself to Philadelphia for my post-Op appointment. I got there early so I walked to the Liberty Bell and back. My surgeon said I was doing so well—he approved me for all exercise! Emboldened I arranged a hike–Maryland Heights Overlook Hike (about 6+ miles total for the day) with my dear friends back in West Virginia. I went to my sons’ marching band performances at the high school football games in Lewes; now, I purposefully park at the back lot of the high school and walk to the stadium—because I can make it! And a few weeks ago, I parked at an elementary school and walked all the way to and from the Rehoboth Beach Sea Witch Parade to hear them play drums. It was a 3 miles round trip, and I walked up and down the boardwalk too!
Another physical accomplishment I wanted to achieve was facing my former foe: stairs.
I thought of that doctor that said, “give away your cats and move your sons out of state!” My intuition helped me find a way to heal that sadness and frustration I felt for him. When I woke up from surgery, I heard this in my head: “All the Way Up,” by Fat Joe and Remy Ma. I had never heard that song before, but after I got my voice back it was the first one that I heard in my head. And in my minds eye, I saw myself running up the Rocky steps (which were not far from where I had my surgery), while listening to that song, "All the Way Up." I thought, that pulmonary doctor gave up on me and said I was down for the count; well, watch me now doc--you said I was down, but I'm going all the way up!
So, one Sunday my son Ben back to Philadelphia (my 4th trip in 5 weeks), and he recorded a video of me running up all 72 stairs! I ran them 2 times in a row, actually!
I also wrote a rap song/poem dedicated to the not-so-dear pulmonary doctor B. of Lewes, who argued with me in the hospital, misdiagnosed me with COPD (stage 3) and asthma, and advised that I move out of state, and ditch my cats. Basically he told me I’d never get off the couch. Guess what, he is wrong!
If you subscribe to my blog (it’s free people, just sign up,) I will send you a copy of my rap song/poem this week! And if you follow me on Instagram (the_intution_empire) you can watch me run up those stairs with that song playing in the background!
Physically, other things improved. Usually, it takes me months to heal a bruise. My bruises from the hospital healed in a week. Since the surgery, my skin has looked healthier. Our skin needs oxygen! I sleep better, and no longer sleep propped up but laying any way I want to! I can be around our cats and outdoors no matter what the pollen level! I still have allergies, but with 100 open airways, I have less allergy side-effects than my sons do.
Air to Spare: Emotional Benefits of Oxygen
My body was not the only thing to heal with my newfound airflow (from 20 percent airway to 100 percent available). My mind and mood also improved. I don’t feel worried or anxious most days and have an easier time making decisions.
My mood is usually positive, but I’ve taken it up a notch. Boys asked me why I am singing while doing laundry. I said because I have air to spare! Being able to breath normally after struggling for so long made me feel joy! I was given a second chance at living. It’s like a huge gift and I’ve been given in my 20th year of sobriety.
As a young girl I told my mom I would die young. Guess what? If I had not been sober, I would not have been listening to my intuition or going to doctors. I never would have known about that growth in my trachea that was slowly growing and blocking my airway. I would have drunk and one day collapsed struggling to breathe in a bar some place, and possibly died. Instead, I am alive writing this blog and my sons have their mom, and I get to enjoy part 2 of my life, reborn.
Manifesting an Apology
Despite feeling better in more ways than one, something was missing. I’d run into doctors that year that didn’t listen to me or spoke to me with disrespect. And no one apologized for how they treated me during that long journey to find a diagnosis. I felt like I wanted it and needed it. I spoke it to the universe, and I visualized it. I believed it and then one night it happened.
My pulmonary doctor called me one evening after his shift was over. First, he wanted to hear my entire story, from beginning to end including the diagnosis, the surgery, and after.
Then, he gave me the gift I needed to finish healing: an apology. He apologized for the way his colleague had treated me. I felt so grateful for that 45-minute conversation.
Intuitive Healing and Healers: Giving and receiving
Intuitive healing has been a huge part of this experience for me. It’s not the first time I’ve relied on my intuition for medical concerns, and it won’t be my last.
By using our intuition, we can help ourselves and others achieve physical, emotional, and spiritual healing. How?
One way is to take the time to listen to other people’s stories. I felt a strong need to be heard after this experience. It changed me. I feel different. I dress different; my style has changed. I think differently. And having people know what I’ve been through helps me heal.
Don’t forget when you go through something, even if you used your intuition and even if you find answers and beat the odds—ask someone to listen to what you’ve been through. Or if you know someone who has gone through their own intuitive healing journey, ask them to tell you what happened. And you will be part of their story.
Kitchen Dance Party of One
Years ago, I could dance without an issue breathing. I took it for granted, until that ability was taken away. I tried to go dancing this summer and had to leave the dance floor to go somewhere and catch my breath!
Now I can dance with ease. I can even sing (out of tune!) while dancing. Lately, as I work from home, I take breaks to dance around the kitchen while my lunch is heating up. And after I finish each blog, I have a dance party in my kitchen. And you can too! It’s awesome, I swear. And if you can’t stand, dance in your chair. If you can’t move, visualize dancing alongside of me.
Here are my songs I listened to while writing this blog:
1. Dance the Night, by Dua Lipa
2. Jump Around, by House of Pain
3. Good Vibrations, by Marky Wahlberg
Ok, next week we switch themes: Intuitive Relationships!
Until Next week!
Love,
The Intuitive Queen
(Aka JENN 2.0—Fully Oxygenated, aka Jennifer R. Young)