Listening to my Uterus

Grampa Gyne pushes at his glasses. I know something must be up, because instead taking the seat at his desk, where he usually sits after examining me and writes prescriptions, he's chosen to sit on the couch opposite me.

"So," he pushes his lenses again, then leans with his elbows on his knees, his expression a grandfatherly mixture of wisdom, professionalism and sympathy, "where are you in your decision- making about child bearing?"

Talking to your body is a little like talking to a computer. Or a small child. Or a horse.

A child or a horse or a computer can't necessarily tell you, in so many words, why it's acting out. Maybe sometimes an animal, machine or child is having temper tantrums because of some obscure inherent condition, or malfunction. But most often I think it has to do with something you're feeding it, doing to it, or putting in its environment. There's something triggering the outburst.

That's why I'm taking time today to Listen to my Uterus. I think it must have something to tell me. In fact my whole body is screaming for attention, and not necessarily in productive ways.

This month in medicine I've been officially diagnosed as hypo-thyroid, seen a physiatrist (neuromuscular specialist) who couldn't believe I can walk after looking at my MRI, and with Grampa gyne, officially opened negotiations about the permanent removal of my uterus. What gives?

I'm regularly amazed at how we Americans are more in tune with the needs of our children, our pets, and our machines than we are to our own bodies. My friends Lynette and Charles have two cats. Says Lynette, "When they eat raw meat, they get the runs; they run around and around and around the couch until they've run it out! It makes them so hyper!"

How often do we personally notice any connection between what we eat and how we feel? Dozens of studies are now at our disposal regarding childrens' diet and their behavior. Do we think this stops when we're adults? We still ride the sugar see-saw - eat it for breakfast, crash mid-morning, eat more for lunch.... The news is full of the latest on diabetes and heart disease in the West. No, as much as we'd like to think so, we're not immune to food.

We're not immune to environment, either. The air we breathe, the noise we're exposed to, the stress we endure.

The problem is it takes attention to ferret out cause and effect. Attention and time and effort - which seems just one more thing "to do" among the kaleidoscope of things we're "supposed" to do every day. And as long as all systems aren't failing catastrophically, we tend to move on.

In the midst of another uterine flare, I've decided I'm tired of battling one infection after another with antibiotics, steroids and other toxic substances, with time between marred by inflammation which feels like a constant migraine in my pelvis.

"I'm concerned about the microbes mutating, getting more tolerant of the antibiotics and stronger against me," I told Grampa Gyne. "And I'm sick of being responsible for educating the bastards. I feel like I've already paid for their college education. I'll be damned if I'm gonna throw in for the masters and doctorate degrees, as well."

I'm ready for a new path.

But all Western medicine has to offer is to cut it out.

So, let's think about this. If your computer had a virus, and you'd been to all the top computer specialists in the world and they couldn't get rid of it, what would you do? (No, you can't buy a new one. This is a metaphor.)

You could smash it to bits (but that would be suicide -always a last option.) You could grit your teeth during its slowness, and keep working it into the ground while it keeps crashing and crashing and crashing.

Maybe you could take some of the load off. Maybe delete some files, run just the software you need. Maybe you figure out that if you just want to do some word processing and get on the internet, your computer works just fine. Maybe you don't need to run the fancy graphics software to get by.

I think that as Americans, we'd rather take a pill than seriously consider any changes to our lifestyle. A shorter workweek, a diet rich in whole foods and low in sugars, an active jaunt three times a week. All beyond consideration for most of us. Our country was built on hard work,and, damnit, we're going to push it to the wall, so we can get things. We will run the fancy graphics software. We will put it on credit. At any cost to ourselves, our bodies, our self esteem, and our relationships.

But wait, I remember this obscure little feature on my computer. It took me a long time to find it. It's called "disk repair," and not everyone knows about it, though it's there for the asking. Apparently it works much like "defragging" on those PC things.

When I run it, sometimes it fixes whatever problem I had. In most cases running it is just considered good computer "hygiene," preventing and correcting problems along the way.

Hundreds of studies support the logic that there are things we can do besides take pills which help "defrag" our own systems. Meditation calms the heart, reduces blood pressure and boosts the immune system. Touching, or being touched by another person releases oxytocin, regulates glucose levels and increases natural killer cells. Yoga reduces muscle spasm and pain. Massage, acupunctue, tai chi...all have well documented positive effects on our body's ability to cope with disease, pain, and the environment.

I learned how to meditate in college. Three times a day I sat and pictured white blood cells, like Pac man, eating up all the bad things in my body. I did Tai Chi and practiced martial arts, then sort of fell off it. I got more concerned with success, personally, professionally.... I felt it wasn't "working." I wanted a cure - one thing I could do which would fix everything. Pronto. As I meditated and practiced Tai chi, my lab results were improving, but not fast enough for me.

In retrospect this is exactly the crazy Western, American attitude which digs a lot of people further into trouble. Why not do the defragging? Why not do the disk repair? Perhaps in listening to my uterus, as opposed to just talking to it, I should hear a wake up call. I must step up and do the daily "fetching of water and carrying of wood" as described by Eastern philosophers.

Toward this end, as you are my witness, I aim to make the following efforts: to quiet the volume of activity I've grown used to in response to my pain, and deepen with it, by being quiet several times a day. If I do nap, to make that time more productive, more potent, by activating my mind around my body's own ability to heal. To make time for yoga, not half a session every other week, but a full session, twice a week. To budget a massage for myself every 10 days.

(BTW, for free yoga you can do at home every day, check out http://www.yogatoday.com/ They post new routines regularly!)

In Chinese medicine, the kidneys hold the energy we have "on credit." The theory goes that once that store is depleted, it needs to be replenished somehow. One needs rest, good food, warmth and a good balance of things, like human interaction and quiet.

Why do I keep going to doctors? Sometimes they do have something useful to say, it's true. But in the silence between appointments I am beginning to hear voices. When I stop talking and barking out orders, I think I hear the voices of my body calling. There is better way, a deeper way, a more productive way, and you've made progress, but you must consider giving up some things. The hardest things, perhaps. Walk with me.

Is my body calling for democracy? Disillusioned with my 30+ reign as sole dictator? Maybe if I put my own CIA to work seeking out microbes which are actually harming me, as opposed to punishing the organs which are only doing their job, I would ultimately win the war. Then again maybe not.

But when you think about it, it's not that hard; the body doesn't really ask that much. Only fundamental change. But in such small portions. Incremental, daily changes, which take so little from our lives, and add so much. A little meditative sitting 15 minutes here, 15 minutes there, cutting up a red pepper instead of eating crackers, adding quinoa to some miso soup, playing the pain meditation CD while napping.

"I haven't decided for sure about child bearing," I told Gramps Gyne," I think I'm probably not going to have children, but I figured I had at least a few more years on the final decision yet." And he agreed with me that we'd try other things.