By Marsha T. Metzger, M.ed, RYT
I was away in Geneva, Switzerland, working as an intern at the United Nations Centre for Human Rights. I had been told many times by my doctors in New York City that my kidneys were on their way out of use, due to years of chemotherapy and radiation for bone cancer. I didn’t really care. Anything was okay as long as it wasn’t cancer again.
I needed to be extra careful about what I ate and drank, in particular staying clear of salty foods, large amounts of protein and CHOCOLATE!!!! How a young woman in the prime of her life working in Switzerland was suppose to spend a whole summer without Swiss chocolate was a mystery to me. So I indulged, not too much, but enough to begin to feel sluggish, tired, bloated and generally not too great. Still, I kept taking the bus to my post each day. I walked through the corridors, thrilled with the vitality of the place. Secret meetings with diplomats, long lunches, lectures at the Red Cross, and discussions at the World Health Organization. Incredible, caring people with a true heart for the welfare of the world. And a nauseating penchant for cologne. There were people from every place on the globe, and I was one of them. I was doing research on the rights of disabled children across the globe.
Each day, I went to my job and each day I became more and more exhausted. I developed a terrible cold that turned into the flu. My pal who worked at the United Nations lived just over the border in France. I stayed with her for a weekend. I hadn’t gone to the bathroom in days. They gave me penicillin. I was allergic. Finally, she said “That’s it. I am taking you to the hospital. In Switzerland, not France!” I am forever grateful for her decision. We drove to a small hospital on the outskirts of Geneva. They admitted me and I had to convince them I had insurance (in French). Once that was OK’d, the doctor came in, held my hand and squatted to the floor. “Your kidneys are failing. You need to go on dialysis right away.” I had been dreading those words, and I knew they would come some day, just not when I was in a foreign country. I felt lost, yet also at peace.
Once the news was given, I ran away from the hospital and traveled down the road, walking by fields of sunflowers blowing in the wind, the Swiss Alps as my backdrop. Not a bad place to get sick. I decided to go back and face this new health challenge. They were not too happy with me, as they had scheduled a catheter to be put into my neck earlier in the day. Well, let me tell you, in 1995 at that hospital they did not believe in much pain medication or sedation. I was in my hospital bed with a young intern poking and prodding for hours. Eventually, they succeeded. Then came the treatment. I was brought to a cozy room, with just a few luxurious dialysis chairs. I collapsed in fright but they held me up and said it would be all right. They gave me warm chocolate, sang to me, and held my hand. Within an hour I felt better than I had in years.
What had I been carrying around for so long? My time in Switzerland was incredibly healing. Doctors have time to really BE with their patients. My sheets were luscious Italian pima cotton. My hospital food was scrumptious. My room had a balcony overlooking the Alps. In the morning I would go out there and do Tai Chi. Once I asked for some cold water and the nurses delivered a silver bucket filled with ice and a bottle of pure mountain water lying just so. Coming back to the United States was not going to be easy. But I did. I flew back to New York City where I had been pursuing a doctorate in French literature. I first dialyzed at New York Hospital. Great staff. Huge facility. My doctor, a woman from Haiti, had called me while I was in Switzerland to reassure me. She spoke to me in French. When I returned, I cut back on my course work but added some other pieces to my life. I began acting classes, took up belly dancing, continued my salsa lessons, went back to church (St. Ignatius, because Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis went there and it was such a beautiful, traditional church) and visited the Metropolitan Museum often. I even had a couple of terrific boyfriends that year.
I then changed dialysis units to a smaller, very glamorous hospital on Park Avenue (known for plastic surgery) and did much better. There was lots of staff and more opportunities to get good personal care. I was lonely, though, and tired. My family lived in different states and dialysis was very frightening to me. I have never been good with needles and the emotional strain of going to treatment and being poked twice! Each treatment was wearing me down. I needed a change. My sister, who lived in Massachusetts, would regularly call me and say “Marsh, will you just do me a favor and move here already.” So I did. I left my doctorate program. I left my fabulous just decorated apartment on East 84th Street and I came to Massachusetts. I must say, at the beginning I was quite lost, having disposed of my anchors of self-definition. I seldom told people I was on dialysis. Only the closest of family and friends would know. I wanted to live fully, despite my circumstance. And I was so good at that. I had been living with chronic illness since I was five. Bone cancer at five, then thirteen, followed by an amputation. I could handle this dialysis. That was for sure. Here is what I have done since I started dialysis more than 10 years ago.
I started with temping. I had a job, with good money and time. My dialysis treatments were at night, so during the day I worked, did aerobics at least five times a week, walked two to three miles every day, swam three to four times a week. I took up photography, studying in Vermont at an adult art camp for a week, Monday, Wednesday and Friday driving the hour to the Berkshires for my treatment. I took acting classes in Boston, including live improvisation. I took a clown workshop and subsequently became part of a clown troupe that visited area hospitals. I flew to Los Angeles, bought a 12-string guitar, drove to the Mohave Desert and sat in the sun strumming away. I had a full page article about my healing work in Good Housekeeping, as well as the Boston Globe. I became certified in DansKinetics™ and Creative Movement, types of expressive movement for healing. I wrote and published a children’s book, which is used in many school curriculums around the country. I fell in love, put together a smashing wedding in the Adirondacks, moved with my husband to a new home, and bought a Labrador retriever.
I became certified in Kripalu yoga and began to teach yoga classes all over my area. I opened, and then subsequently closed, a yoga studio. I created training in yoga called Color Me Yoga™, which trains people to teach yoga to children. Included in the training is a CD of songs I wrote for children, an 80-page training manual. I have more than 200 graduates. I recorded a yoga video. I taught yoga to kids at the Amputee Coalition annual conference in Nashville and at Hole In The Wall Camp for kids. I wrote another book for children based on yoga and consequently developed a whole series of products – stickers, flash cards and a poster. I recorded an 8 CD set of yoga classes and wrote and published another training manual for that set. I trademarked my business. I built a new yoga studio and did two years of training in alternative healing and now one year of training in movement therapy. I continue to write articles about yoga in national yoga magazines. And even when my graft clotted and they put a perma-catheter in my neck, I was still doing handstands and backbends (don’t tell my doctor). I can only imagine what I will be doing when I get a kidney transplant!
I write this to encourage anyone who is about to go on dialysis. When I started dialysis, I thought my life was over, that I would never get back my energy or fulfill my desires. Granted, I had to be very creative about following my dreams. Travel can be challenging, and constantly having to set up dialysis (or hope I could so I could pursue my dreams) is tedious. Yet, I know NOTHING can stand in the way of my dreams and I certainly would never let dialysis either. If it is important to you, I say find a way, no matter what, to make it happen. Embrace the good in your life and have hope. Laugh hard. Connect to good friends and family. Honor your body and your life purpose. Pray for guidance. Trust.
Marsha T. Metzger, M.ed, RYT, is a nationally registered yoga teacher, writer, dancer and movement therapist in the making. She speaks at conferences on yoga, wellness, hope and inspiration. Her e-mail address is yogacalm@msn.com .
This article originally appeared in the January 2006 issue of aakpRENALIFE, Vol. 21, No. 4.
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