Category Archives: Fear & Hope

Making peace with pain and a fire dragon

Before my double mastectomy, my doctors told me I wouldn’t feel much except for numbness in my chest. I’m happy to say that they were wrong. I’m also in a great deal of pain because they were wrong. Nerve pain is real, and apparently both the biopsy on my left breast and the mastectomy of my right breast did some nerve damage. Almost from the beginning, this pain had a form, the form of a red, burning fire dragon.

After I fell asleep at 1:30am, I don’t think I moved all night and when I woke up this morning, the entire fire dragon was flaming. Because the pain was excruciating, I felt motivated to try to figure out what my dragon – yes, I already think of it as “my” fire dragon – looks like.

Its head has gold/red lava eyes glancing out from my back languidly, slightly hooded, confident in its power. I don’t yet know if it’s female or male, or what it may wish to be called. These are details for later.

I just know that it’s taken up residence from my right scapula across my back, around my side and over my chest to my sternum from the left. Its body and tail stretch horizontally across my back. It is sleek and aerodynamic. Its wings tucked back along its sides and its legs drawn up against its body as if it has just dived from a high point, and is now smoothly gliding across a horizontal plane.

I do know that nothing seems to touch the red hot searing pain it causes when awakened. I try to let it sleep.

Images of many fire dragons show them breathing fire. Mine IS fire with golden and blue black tendrils of flame throughout its body.

In dragon lore, red fire dragons are proud, fierce, and vengeful. I have direct experience with those qualities. In Chinese culture, a red fire dragon symbolizes good fortune, happiness, and good luck. I hope that all these symbols are equally true.

I grew up reading the Dragonriders of Pern books by Anne McCaffrey. My little girl self yearned to impress on a dragon, making us partners for life. I may want to be more careful what I wish.

I’ve now taken pain meds and a muscle relaxer, and I’m more comfortable and a little more relaxed. Hoping to sleep. Rest fire dragon. Rest.

On Fear, Hope, a Bracelet, and Gratitude

Sometimes those who love us see more clearly what we need than we do. Today I write about one of those times. Today I write about fear, hope, and a bracelet that signified both. Today I write about gratitude. This month is the 10-year anniversary of the freak dancing accident that resulted in breaking both of my wrists, triple fracturing my right and double fracturing my left. That accident was in many ways both a blessing and a curse. I learned so much about myself and those I love. I learned that people would be there for me if I needed them. I learned I was safe to be helpless. I learned how to deal with the most excruciating pain I could imagine. I learned to slow down, to be kind to myself, to accept care, to ask for help. I didn’t learn these lessons easily, but I learned them.

Throughout the holiday season, I was working my way through splints, then casts, then braces with increasing levels of physical therapy. For homework, I was playing in a bowl of rice multiple times a day to reduce skin sensitivity and promote flexibility. I was opening and closing wooden clothespins, learning to touch my fingertips to my thumbs, and trying to relearn how to do simple tasks for myself, like feeding myself, brushing my teeth, dressing myself.  

One day, my friend Miche Dreiling brought me a present. It was a small, square box. Inside was a delicate, red bracelet. It was the most terrifying thing I had ever seen. A bracelet! A bracelet? My skin was so sensitive I couldn’t imagine ever being able to wear a bracelet again. Even though this one was so delicate and small, it looked like a torture device to me. I know I looked at Miche confused. “Not for now”, she said. “For later… when you’re healed”. I closed the lid on the box and put the bracelet in a drawer in my hutch. I wondered if I would ever take it out. It became a symbol of fear and hope.

The day I decided I was ready to try to wear it finally came. I was apprehensive as my skin was still so sensitive, but it was time. Andrew helped me put it on. And though I could only wear it for a short time that day, I knew that sometime soon, I would be able to wear it for much longer periods. I knew that I would someday be able to wear all my treasured bracelets and rings whenever and for as long as I wished. That day wasn’t here yet, but it was coming. Today as I reflect 10 years later, I am wearing an iWatch, a wrap bracelet, and 5 rings on my hands. The moment I opened Miche’s gift, I doubted that this day would ever come. Now I don’t think about jewelry anymore. I wear it easily and without pain.  

In all honesty, what at first felt like the most insensitive gift I could imagine became a talisman of hope as I embraced my healing and the belief that I would regain full function and capacity. I am grateful that Miche brought me this talisman of hope. I doubted the wisdom of this gift. In retrospect, it was just the gift I needed. I cherish that bracelet as a reminder that in fear, there can also be hope.