I have been thinking about times when Maya taught me about healing. One time in particular when Cecil and Maya and I were headed to Sandhill (Cecil and I on bikes and Maya on foot), Maya lagged behind. When Cecil and I got to the pavement we waited for Maya who after what seemed like a long time showed up with blood streaming down one hind leg.
It turned out to be a fairly significant wound that I decided to try to heal without the help of a vet or sutures. After bringing her home and cleaning the wound it stopped bleeding. Figuring that she would not allow a bandage to stay on her for any amount of time I chose to try to let her go without. After her first outing, she showed up again with a bloody leg. I decided to give the bandage thing a try, carefully using the vetwrap that I had saved for years from some horsey thing I had done to try to do a wrap job that might have some hope of surviving. To my surprise, she allowed the bandage to stay on for a few days. At some point, well before I thought the cut was ready to defend itself against the world of tall grasses and underbrush, Maya decided she was done. I wrapped and rewrapped but she clearly said "I am done and there is nothing you can do about that." It turned out to be exactly the right time and the cut healed beautifully.
I look back to pieces of this journey and note..... when I was getting supplemental nutrition there came a point when I was done. I couldn't stand the idea of continuing. I think this was challenging for my parents because the supplemental nutrition was putting some color back into my face and giving me the beginnings of energy that seemed to indicate moving in a direction towards health. In fact I let myself give in to trying another night of being hooked up to a line headed directly into my chest through a port which was surgically implanted in me. Part way through the night I unhooked myself. It was so clear to me that I was done that I am not sure that I could have stopped myself from unhooking.
Another example is when I wanted to get the port out. The popular opinion among my parents and the nurse was that I should leave it in for a few months "just in case." I let myself become swayed by this for a while. The whole time I felt increasingly worse about having this piece of plastic in my chest that represented a time when I couldn't perform a basic function for sustaining life...eating. Not to mention that although they said after a while I wouldn't feel it, it was still uncomfortable. On one doctors visit I told him I wanted it out. He happily obliged and helped me get an appointment to get it out. Why did I wait when my body was talking to me?
And then there was the stopping of the visiting nurses. I was swayed to let them keep coming to the house or calling because it is a process to start them up again.... and what if......? Why did I wait to stop it. I hated everything about having them come. I hated trying to be "nice" when I felt like shit, when they were taking my vital signs for the fourth time that week, when they were waiting for their super slow computers to start up, or asking me how I was feeling..... It felt so great to finally stop them.... why did I wait?
Sometimes I feel scared because I feel out of touch with my body. I cant hear what it is telling me. I fear that I cant tell when my intuitive self is shouting at me and when my rational self is pressing mute. I am glad that I am noticing that at least sometimes my intuitive self will just shout louder and louder until I listen.
Maya didn't seem to care at all that I thought she should remain wrapped longer, she was not swayed by my opinion because she knew what was best for her.
And then there was the time when she stopped eating or drinking...it wasn't until I gave up on force feeding her that she started eating and drinking on her own. Once again, she knew what she needed and I am guessing she wasn't scared of death.