I am sometimes living in what I call a panic mode.
It isn’t something that comes through my thoughts. It doesn’t seem specific. But my body sometimes is feeling definite fear, like I need to to run somewhere or get away from something. But of course I cannot. I feel the fear but it is not specific.
I have found some relief in walking, which I continue to do as part of my treatment. Though I have increased my steps each day, I am still tied to my walker with numb feet and hands. I challenged myself to take more steps per day and am now up to about 1100, walking back and forth on my ceramic tile walkway in front of my house. It feels good to walk and to push myself to go a little farther each day. In six months I have gone from about 200 steps/ day to about 1200.
Though I’m happy that I’m getting stronger, I continue to experience these strange panic periods from time to time.
One afternoon it was particularly difficult and Lauren and Billy, leaders of my round the clock care team happened to both be at my house with me. Billy and I walked outside to sit on the porch in rocking chairs as I struggled to explain to him what was going on.
What could be causing my panic? We both agreed that the Corvid-19 virus had changed everything in our world, even in Costa Rica, which still only had 15 deaths country wide with its 5 million population. Though I mostly stayed away from frightening news, I couldn’t avoid it entirely. I felt especially separated from my family in the US and there was no knowing when or even if I would see them again. And of course there was the unknowing about my cancer that had been suspected and then diagnosed about nine months ago. I had a rare form of leukemia and we were waiting to hear from my doctor about my recent blood test, etc. So many unknowns and so many things out of control.
We sat looking out over the lawn and gavione wall. Just as I despaired that the world was just so scary now, Billy said it. “Jan. This is your world now.” And he meant just this little part of the world that I could see and touch and have some control over. I needed to concentrate my energies and attention to those. The rest was beyond.
It was so simple and yet difficult to acknowledge. And then define. But his words rang simply true and I took them to heart.
As I sat there that day, looking from my rocking chair, I consciously touched each part of my newly defined world with my eyes. Just beyond the tile porch and walkway was the grass lawn, bordered on one side by Casa Tranquila and the bougainvilleas, bird bath and bird feeder along with other flowers that provided year around color and sweet scents in my house. At the far edge of the lawn was the wonderful gavione wall of stones that was covered in flowering vines of several colors. It now made me feel safe during tropical storms and was built after my front yard collapsed in a landslide caused by Hurricane Nate in 2017. Now it was wonderful reassurance during heavy downpours. To my left were more gardens, steps and the rest of what I called Casa de Corazon. The ceramic tile walkway was wrapped around the lawn and I took a few minutes to smile about the recent project I did with my builder, Oscar – the ceramic tile mending using a variation of an ancient Asian Kintsugi process. Our version was meant as an abstract depiction of some rocks in a canal that emptied into a simulated lagoon that I named after my son Tim who joked about it. And there were many more parts of my newly defined world – even some that moved about, like my new cat, Camilla who was always nearby and who especially enjoyed playing with my walker and my feet as we measured our steps. She loved to lie in the pathway of our oncoming wheels and feet. My job was to pass over or around her without touching her – often easier said than done. She was careful not to move and I was just as careful not to allow a wheel or a foot to touch her.
After Billy left I sat there for awhile looking out over the lawn to the world beyond – the part I had no control over. My world. It began just at the edges and continued far beyond what I could see. It included the road that criss crossed down the mountain slope to the village of San Rafael Norte. La Princesa Hotel was there, managed by Billy and his family – their world if they chose to consider it as that. Beyond San Rafael Norte was the Pan Am Highway that continued just a few miles more to the city of San Isidro de El General. And the rest of the world beyond that.
I suddenly felt better defining my world as somewhat separate from the rest of the world. Of course it is all connected, but I found some peace in putting some order into what I would allow myself to focus upon. And for now, it would be what Billy first declared as ‘my world now’. A calmness washed over me that day and continues now whenever I make continued efforts to see and re-discover the parts.
My process has become this. Whenever I feel the beginning stirrings of fear arise in my body, I make the conscious choice to examine another part of my world. I walk behind my walker out the front door and look around at my ‘world’. Something will catch my eye.
There was one just this morning – and I marvel at how it went. A story begins. This morning I walked out onto the lawn to sit beside some still blooming bougainvillas. I remembered that about a month ago the bougainvilleas surged to express their dazzling vibrancy. It was at the end of summer. Brilliant hues. The color explosion was exhilarating. An orange bougainvillea that grew under the window of Frank’s house sent a branch through its neighboring bush with magenta flowers and both appeared right next to each other and right beside Frank’s house door. I was awed by the sight of the analogous colors. Weeks later they both faded. And then to my surprise I was witness to another beautiful event – the transformation from dazzling color to exquisitely faded and muted. hues The sepals appeared almost papery and lovely. I was elated that the change was not what I expected – that these fresh and vibrant blossoms would turn to old and pale. Instead it was more like fresh and vibrant turned to soft and delicate. There was still beauty there. And something to ponder. There had been a surprising transformation.
And it coincided with my own transformation. Instead of the fears ignited by all the news from all the places and people around this huge and complicated world, I could immerse myself into what was happening in my world. I could find the interesting and soothing stories in my world just as fascinating as those in the larger world.
Yes. The very best I could do right now would be to focus my attention to what I could care for, touch and observe. This yard. These flowers and trees, this house and Frank’s house of refuge and simplicity.. Beyond was not controllable. My job, mighty that is is, is to remind myself to take refuge in what I could see and touch. When the beyond became too frightening, I would need to once again step outside my door and find something new to touch or examine or smell.
This is my world now.
