Chapter 34: Difficult Gifts
Buddha sculpture. Chiang Mai, Thailand
Sunday, March 28th, 2020: Thoughts on a rainy morning
It’s currently 4am and I haven’t even had my coffee yet, but I am so energized by life today. Can’t sleep, must write. Maybe at post-op day 10 the surgical fatigue has finally ended and my body is well-rested for once.
Yesterday, I ran a 5K. Ok, I know for some of you that is basically nothing, but I am not a runner. I despise running. I love fitness, but with gyms closed and my favorite StairMaster closed as well, I’ve had to resort to more horrible alternatives. Yesterday morning I decided to mix up my perspective and get outside, so I put on my very old running shoes and got to work. It was so nice to be outside that I just kept moving.
Every time a negative running thought would pop into my head (…basically every other step or so) I would tell myself, “you are 9 days post-brain surgery and your legs work – use them!!” Two seconds later when I would forget this motivational message and again internally complain about running I would think “you might be too tired to run for months once chemo starts, just do it now!” and I would run faster. By the time I got tired, I had run longer than than a 5K. I was floored. I have never run that far in my life, not pre-cancer diagnosis and definitely not post. I have done many hard workouts, lots of stair climbing, weight lifting, and CrossFit, but running? No chance. I don’t have any inspirational words in this story; I’m just bragging. 8 days ago the surgeons cut a massive hole in the side of my brain, and yesterday I ran farther than I ever have. I’m pretty proud of myself for this.
Ok, I’m done bragging. Also, it’s supposed to snow in MN today so my 5K will be replaced by a day of binge watching Tiger King, let’s be real.
Gratitude: Difficult Gifts
In “The Book of Joy,” there is an interesting quote attributed to Brother David Steindl-Rast (a Catholic-Benedictine monk who is known for his work with Christian-Buddhist interfaith dialogue) about being grateful for all gifts we are given, whether or not they seem positive or negative at face value. “The Book of Joy” is a very interesting book, almost like a manual on how to find joy in your daily life. If there’s ever a time to read this, I would think it’s now!
Part of this book examines the values that the Dalai Lama and his friend/co-author, Archbishop Desmond Tutu feel should be considered the “eight pillars” of joy.
One of these pillars is gratitude. The Dalai Lama has said “every day when you wake up you should try to think, I am fortunate to be alive. I have a precious human life. I am not going to waste it.” The authors in The Book of Joy quote Brother David to further explain how gratefulness can lead to joy:
“It is not happiness that makes us grateful. It is gratefulness that makes us happy.” He goes on to say that “every moment is a gift…the gift within every gift is the opportunity it offers us. Most often it is the opportunity to enjoy it, but sometimes a difficult gift is given to us and that can be an opportunity to rise to the challenge.”
I love this strange juxtaposition, “a difficult gift.” How often do we think of challenges, “bad news,” or stressful situations as gifts?! The next time you hear news that makes you think, ‘damn, that sucks,” I challenge you to instead say “thank you, life for this difficult gift.” This idea is so strange, yet it somehow works for me.
Oh, chemo and radiation mid-pandemic? Thank you life for this difficult gift. I can’t promise I won’t want the gift receipt to return it, but I guess I’ll try it out first before I complain too much. Maybe I’ll end up actually liking something about this difficult gift.
In my mind, I compare this idea to something like when you unwrap a 5000-piece puzzle at Christmas and mostly want to complain about how you’ll never have time or interest in doing something so awful, but then a pandemic comes along and traps you inside your home, and you realize, “thank god I got that awful puzzle last year. What a fantastic gift.”
Back in chapter 21, I talked about cancer ghosting, the unfortunate experience of losing a good friend, Mike, after being diagnosed with cancer. I have often wondered over the past few months why life/karma/the divine or not-so-device forces you believe in put Mike in my life at all. Maybe you can relate if you’ve even had a relationship end unexpectedly. I would also say this concept, unfortunately, can be applied to loss on a grander scale including the unexpected, untimely death of a loved one.
When you lose a loved one in any of these scenarios, you might wonder (like I have), why, cruel world, did you introduce me to someone who brought happiness into my life if you knew you would later take that person away? As a physician, I feel the pain of this in a different sense as well when a faced with the loss of a patient that I have come to know and respect.
Ironically, I now have this same thought about myself and how my own eventual death will impact others as I face my own mortality more directly than before. To my friends and family, I hope the sadness my illness brings can somehow be seen as a “difficult gift” rather than a burden. Maybe a back-of-the closet pandemic puzzle. I have always loved puzzles.
Anyways, on a less morbid note, I think back to my friend Mike. Why was this friend in my life at all? In searching for the gratitude in this difficult gift of a friendship, I came across a quote by another fabulous spiritual teacher, Pema Chodron. Pema Chodron is a Buddhist nun, teacher, and prolififc writer. Pema states:
"When we think that something is going to bring us pleasure, we don’t know what’s really going to happen. When we think something is going to give us misery, we don’t know. Letting there be room for not knowing is the most important thing of all.”
After reading this quote, I was reminded that my first real step on my Buddhist spiritual journey was through Pema Chodron. Prior to my time in Thailand, I mentioned to a few friends that I was studying Buddhism so that when I made it to Thailand and toured the temples, I would have a better cultural appreciation and understanding of them. Yes, I am that very annoying travel buddy who has every map, guide book, and itinerary read and highlighted before I’ve ever stepped off the plane.
One of the friends I mentioned this to was Mike. He told me he loved an author named Pema Chodron and brought me a copy of one of her books, “Living Beautifully.” I loved this book. Reading this book was the first step I took on my Buddhism journey.
Without the knowledge or practice of some of the concepts in this book, which led to my reading and exploring of so many other Buddhist concepts, I can’t even imagine how I would have been coping with all of the recent “difficult gifts” life has given me. Likely, more tears than smiles and more Netflix than attempts at inspirational blogging.
Maybe some people and challenges come in to and out of our lives simply to teach us something we don’t yet know we need to know. Whoa, are you still with me on this wild concept today?
Friendships ending badly, cancer, pandemics, you name it – it can be difficult to see the beauty or feel gratitude for these horrible things. But, here are some of the “difficult gifts” I have unwrapped so far:
Upsetting friendship --> Pema Chodron--> Buddhist exploration --> mindfulness, calmness in the face of cancer, two brain surgeries, and a pandemic
Cancer --> facing my own mortality --> new/improved ability to relate to my patients facing their own morality and --> gratitude for each and every day --> more appreciation and joy in my own life
Pandemic, social distancing --> More time at home, time with my dog --> time to write this blog, try new recipes, call friends and family I’d been somewhat out of touch with, time to read more books --> extreme joy when finally, able to see friends and family again (I can only imagine...still waiting to unwrap that part of this difficult gift)
As Pema says, “When we think something is going to give us misery, we don’t know. Letting there be room for not knowing is the most important thing of all.”
Summary of my thoughts at 4am on Sunday morning;
Thank you, life, for these difficult gifts. You never know when you need a pandemic puzzle in the closet.
Fondly,
Courtney
© CB2020