One breath at a time

Over the weekend I was invited to a tea party in celebration of the royal wedding.  My friend is an avid anglophile and graciously served tea, cake, and scrumptious biscuits to a gathering of friends who arrived dressed in lovely spring wear (along with some pretty fabulous fascinators).  It was a delight to see a mutual friend of ours who had taken wonderful care of me when I was admitted to the ICU last September.  Ashley brought her baby and it was a joy to hold sweet Piper, remembering how Ashley had been eight months pregnant last fall. 

More than seven months have passed since the six precarious days I spent in the hospital, not knowing what the future would bring.  It’s been a slow road to recovery and every time I think I’m fully healed, something blocks my path and makes me take a few steps backward to regain my footing.   Sure, I’ve learned to approach life one day at a time, but often that's not enough.  Sometimes I take it one hour…or one minute…or even one breath at at time.

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about the first forty-eight hours in the ICU.  I’d just had emergency surgery and the doctors weren’t sure I would survive, as sepsis had taken hold and my blood pressure plummeted.  IV antibiotics weren’t enough, so a central line was put in and my body was overloaded with fluids to keep me alive.  But my lungs were too wet and I quickly developed pneumonia.  I could hardly move, hardly keep my eyes open.  And now, I could hardly breathe.

On the second day, I asked Ashley and the other nurses if they could close the curtains and leave the room for a while.  Cognizant enough to be aware of the grim reality of what was happening, I wanted to be alone.  Slowly turning on my right side, I gingerly propped my head on a pillow and closed my eyes so I could tune in to my breathing pattern which was shallow and uneven.  Miraculously, I was able to silently talk myself through a relaxation exercise, just as I have with my yoga students for almost twenty years.  That still, small voice which has been with me since I learned to meditate in my late twenties calmly gave me the presence of mind to be with whatever was happening.

When I started to panic because it felt like I was going to suffocate, the voice said, Don’t breathe into your lungs, breathe into your heart.  Imagine there’s an opening in your chest and breathe into that space.  Again and again and again, I consciously stayed in the moment.  For nearly an hour I willed myself to breathe.  Willed myself to live. 

One breath at a time.

More than a decade ago I finally figured out that the most precious thing I have is time.  I can lose money and gain it back.  I can lose friendships, yet rediscover them in due course.  But I can never go back in time and relive any moment of my past, not even the most enchanting ones.  How I choose to invest my personal energy is now in the forefront of my awareness.  What I choose to do.  Where I choose to go.  With whom and how I spend my days.  What I choose to think and believe and reveal. 

I’ve chosen to pivot more than once since January, moving away from working on a new novel while actively seeking employment.  But things in the outer world haven’t turned out the way I thought I wanted and I've returned to the enduring truth that there is nothing in this life I’d rather do with my professional time than spend long, quiet hours alone in my writing space.  Still, I have fiscal responsibilites and a new life to create and all of that takes financial stability.

Last night I paid my bills and found that I needed to draw once again from my savings account, something I’ve found a necessity for the past several months.  Thank God I saved for a rainy day as it’s been a steady drizzle since the new year.  When I went to bed, I was ready to give into fear of not having enough of anything.  But then I reminded myself that I’ve been in this situation before and life always has a way of opening doors when I need them the most.  I told myself to relax, to trust, to take things one day at a time.

This morning I had a ball teaching a yoga class at Wiley Homes, then came home to find two writing assignments from a local magazine waiting in my inbox.  I applied for freelance work with a company in England, then queried a couple more literary agents.  It’s a been a fruitful, focused day and I’m intending that the seeds I plant today will someday soon grow into a harvest beyond what I can imagine.  

In the meantime I’ll practice living one yoga class, one conversation, one blog, one chapter, one opportunity…one breath at a time.