Shingles and Soul School

“No one expects the Spanish Inquisition!”
Monty Python’s Flying Circus

Shingles? Why me?!
I had the vaccine last year!

Well, apparently, the vaccine is 60% effective at preventing an outbreak and in the case of one, effective at reducing the severity of the symptoms and duration.
 
As one in the midst of an outbreak, I highly recommend getting the vaccine if you had chickenpox as a child. I have a fairly high tolerance for pain. All I can say about this is that the pain is unusually attention grabbing. Riveting. Talk with your doctor.

I had been contemplating a theme for the New Year and Completion came to mind: a year for finishing projects, releasing things I had great intentions for and now know will never be done, admitting to and apologizing for commitments made that I will not deliver on.
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I also want this to be a year of a deepening awareness of my physical self, of learning to connect more with my body, of living inside an on-going awareness of my physical being, and observing how my body responds to situations, events, thoughts.

That intention got a jump on 2016 by a few days. On Dec. 28th my sleep was interrupted by a truly impressive headache. I’ve endured many migraines in my life. This was a horse of a different color: stabbing, burning, very specifically located pain. My left temple throbbed and spears were being put into my left forehead and skull. It was remarkably effective at calling my attention to my body, moment by searing moment.

Poleaxe
c. 1470-1480, ​Western European
Philadelphia Museum of Art

I think of most ailments as self-limiting. Unless bad symptoms last 2-3 weeks I figure, “This, too, shall pass.” It took me several weeks to figure out that a case of the flu I had was actually pneumonia.
 
After massaging my neck and shoulders (is this a tension headache?) I took some Advil and tried to sleep. Nothing. I tried Tiger Balm, sage tea, relaxation techniques, and meditation. The pain was relentless and broke through them all, non-stop, until 4 A.M. New Year’s Day.

Later that morning I met an old friend for coffee and our long-standing holiday gift-giving tradition. As I described my experience to her, she said, “That’s what happened to me when I had shingles in my eye.” I went home and Googled it. Hmmmm. No rash. Yet. Later in the afternoon pain started shooting up my face and into my scalp, and the rash appeared.

I started taking a wonderful homeopathic anti-viral tincture, B-complex vitamins, and eating all the high vitamin fresh foods I could: spinach salad with Feta, sweet potatoes, seitan with kale and garlic. I’d never bother a doctor on a holiday weekend unless it was a genuine emergency. I just soldiered on. Hardly. I sat in my comfy chair putting ice packs on my face and head, trying to distract myself, but this was calling my attention to my body quite effectively. I could have traced the nerve pathways with a Sharpie marker. The pain was that specific. Watch out for those intentions.

Monday morning at 7:30 I went to the offices of my lovely community family practice but there were no appointments available until 1 P.M. I returned home to ice my head. By that time blisters were starting to form.

The doctor confirmed my diagnosis, gave me prescriptions for an allopathic anti-viral, Gabapentin and something to help me sleep which I had a horrid reaction to and will never take again.

Many people presume everyone lives in their body and think it’s odd when I say I don’t. What I mean is not that I don’t feel my physical existence at all – I feel aches and pains, I know when I’ve cut my finger. But it is usually only illness or discomfort that calls my attention to my body. The rest of the time I’m up in my head. It can take me quite a while to realize how and what I’m feeling, or I don’t notice unless I’m asked. This is a legacy of growing up in a household where many things were inappropriately sexualized. Nowadays we recognize this as a form of domestic violence. It turns out attempted rape, among other things, did not occur in the homes of my school chums.

Therapy

I spent many years in therapy gaining insight into what was going on me emotionally, many years reading books on psychology, family systems theory, neuro-biology and -chemistry, and trauma. I worked hard to unravel my PTSD*. It was well worth it. I’m still triggered now and then but I understand my reactions and know how to manage them. Still, being disconnected from what I’m feeling in my body is my general state of being. I want to move beyond managing reactions. I want to learn how to truly inhabit my body.

Shingles started me down this path with fireworks.

Thursday I went to see my lovely and brilliant Five Elements* acupuncturist Janice. I traced the pain line along the Gall Bladder meridian for her, and we discussed the events and activities of 2015 that had led to a depletion of Water: physical energy and other resources. (More about that in another blog post.) We talked about how much I’d used my Metal last year, holding things together and dealing with a lot of grief. At the solstice/the turn of the seasons, my Metal was not letting go and flowing into Water. No wonder I’d been craving winter.

Janice treated many more points than usual, most to pull the heat down from my head, some with beautiful names like Foot Above Tears (Gall Bladder 41) and Gate of Hope (Liver 14). We talked about receiving – a challenge for me - and the Lung’s role in it.  Lung represents the yin aspects and functions of the Metal element. I lay there like a Voodoo rag doll and went deep inside, feeling the past year. Tears began to flow as I experienced how deeply exhausted I am. Relief melted into my limbs. I rarely realize how much tension I carry in my muscles. “Normal” is not necessarily good or healthy.

My instructions from Janice, echoing those received during a deep meditation I’d had, were to rest throughout the entire Water season, to rest much more than I think I need, and then to rest some more. To paraphrase Brene Brown in Daring Greatly, 'It's time to let go of exhaustion as a status symbol and productivity as self-worth.'

I am writing this from my comfy chair wrapped in a fleece throw of my father’s and a Fisherman’s knit afghan made by my grandmother. I'm holding an ice pack to my head gazing at a lovely tableau: the sweetest yellow tulips, a gift from Lisa, lazily posing in a Talavera vase I brought back from a visit with dear friends in Spain. Next to it, within easy reach, is one of the most perfectly designed teapots I’ve ever seen, pre-war Havilland Limoges, filled with Stash Double Bergamot Earl Grey tea (my current favorite) and a Royal Albert Princess teacup with it’s delicately painted rose and gold decoration, a gift from my late Aunt Ann.
 
It will be dawn soon. I suspect this will be one of my seats in Soul School this winter.

​I’m feeling blessed.

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*Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. For more information about PTSD, see the works of Bessel Van Der Kolk, M.D. or visit the website of The Trauma Center. 

Traditional Acupuncture: The Law of the Five Elements