It Begins with a Call: Psyche's Story (Part 11)

Psyche’s story calls me once again.  Like her, like everyone, I have been given challenges. Which of Psyche's challenges occupies me now?  They all resonate, but the one that leaps out at me is her needing to seek the golden fleece.  Looking for the gold, to me, is finding the soul’s calling, what Seena Frost in my beloved SoulCollage® process calls “Soul Essence,” which I like to think of as how Spirit comes through the individual.  The psychic told me that I need to see beyond the obstacles and to cleanse myself of collective and astral energies I’ve taken in.  A good friend confirmed that she definitely sees me as empathic.  I’m looking at that.  I know I have taken on emotions that are not mine.

My Soul Essence card

Back to the cardiologist.  I dreaded seeing this guy because I’d seen one some years back who berated me for not being on statins (even after I had been on them and started developing neuropathy from them), who didn’t believe in CoQ10 supplementation (although everything I read said anyone on statins REALLY needs them).  When my tests back then all came back normal, I didn’t go see him again, or feel the need to see another cardio doc.  But now there is a reason to check things out. 

This new one was a pleasant surprise, soft-spoken, low-key, kind.  A mature African-American man who did not alarm me, but wanted to do some tests and who recommended a new non-statin drug for my familial hypercholesterolemia.  I liked him.  His tests all, thankfully, came back normal.  The new drug doesn’t appear to have side effects.  He explained all of the results and why I was getting the palpitations.  Then he told me that a new doctor was joining his practice, a specialist in lipid issues, and he wanted me to see him after I’d been on the drug for a while.

Several months later I went in to see the new specialist.  I was surprised to see a man close to my age, having expected for some reason that the “new” expert would be young.  He expressed deep concern for my health and really wanted me on a statin, even though my LDLs had dropped 130 points on the new drug.  Not enough, according to him.  He also wanted me to get a heart scan to see what damage had already occurred to my arteries, and he told me to take a daily low-dose aspirin.  He refuted everything I brought up from my own research; after all, he was the expert and knew all the data.  And his research pointed to my demise by stroke or heart attack unless there was serious intervention.  Finally, he cut me off saying he had no more time.

I left in a daze.  Walking to my car, I felt like a ticking time bomb.  I was overwhelmed and terrified.

I investigated getting the heart scan.  I took the daily baby aspirin.  I didn’t want to go back on statins again – I didn’t trust them or the pharmaceutical industry that make them such big business.  I’d been so proud of being in my sixties and not being on any pharmaceuticals.  Now, I was on two, with them wanting me on a third.

My acupuncturist and friend’s response was clear.  “Any time you leave a doctor in that much fear,” she said, “it’s not the right doctor for you.”

I agreed, but could not shake off the fear.  I understood that the cardiologist intended to get me to conform to his program by scaring me into agreeing.

A week and a half after beginning the daily aspirin I began getting large, ugly bruises for no apparent reason.  I went to see my primary care doc.  I told her about the baby aspirin and about my experience with the cardiologist.  She thought the bruising could be from the aspirin, but to be safe had me get a bunch of blood tests.  She had heard other complaints about this lipid specialist’s bedside manner.  The test results were normal.  I stopped the aspirin.  The bruising stopped.

I investigated the heart scan, but after a lot of back-and-forth, it turned out that my insurance wouldn’t cover it.  Considering that it would cost me $700 and shoot me full of radiation, I declined.  Plus, all they would do if the results came in as problematic would be to stuff me full of more statins.  No thanks.  So far, nothing recommended was panning out.

I decided to fire the second cardiologist.  I broke my scheduled appointment with him and made one with the first guy.  Dropping my fear and anger has not been easy.  I’ve processed, meditated, started an EFT/tapping practice, and still have felt distressed.  Really, wasn’t this worse for my heart than any high cholesterol issue?

With some trepidation, I went to my appointment with the first guy.  He is personable, easy to be with.  We don’t agree on everything, but I don’t feel like a “case” with him.  He tells me he’s conservative with pharmaceuticals and even with supplements (thinking I take too many), but push come to shove, he ultimately agreed with the other guy.  It was just easier to take it in from him.  I left feeling a little teary, resistant to going back on even low-dose statins, but I told myself that it’s just one more med, that I can try it and see if I get side effects from it or not, and go from there.  I calmed down.  My genetics are what they are.  I do what I can with diet and exercise, but some conditions may require more serious intervention.  He was holding off on the heart scan.

Part of my quandary is, of course, over these specifics about my physical problems.  But there is an even deeper issue: How am I working with my fear, my habitual responses, and my tendency to catastrophize?  These are apparently increasing as I age.   I might have expected that when I got older I would be wiser, more at peace.  That I’d have learned how to work with my core issues – or even transcend them.  Right?  What has actually happened is that they have come into sharper focus and are now in the forefront of my life, not just in the background.

Maybe this is one of the secrets about aging.  I certainly saw it in my father, whose tendency toward cranky, short-temperedness increased as he got older.  At the time, I chalked it up to him not doing inner work.  Certainly not like me.  And here I am, aging and replicating the pattern of intensified negative qualities of personality.

Maybe, as awful as it is, this is the wise gift of growing old.  This is the work.  It is clear and undeniable.  Do it, or descend into bitterness.  Look, this is hard.  Friends are dying.  People are getting cancer.  My symptoms, all the strange ailments I have had in the last few years have given me ample opportunity to catastrophize.

It isn’t how I want to live my life, whatever time remains to me.

I tried the statins again, despite the fact that I don’t trust or like them and that my LDL numbers had dropped considerably.  Not long after, I began experiencing some neuropathy in my hands.  No more statins for me, thank you very much.  I sent the cardiologist an online message, but got no response.  I already knew he wasn’t diligent at returning emails, but I decided if he wanted to talk to me or change treatment, he or someone in his office would get back to me.  Never happened.  My primary care doc agreed that statins didn’t seem warranted.  So, that’s that, at least for now.  There is definitely a place for western medicine; if you need surgery or help with a broken bone, it is a godsend.  But I distrust it because the whole set-up is not truly about health and well-being.  It’s about unquestioning adherence to the “experts,” throwing pharmaceuticals at every problem, and not looking at underlying issues and health of the whole person. (Sorry for the rant.)

And so, back to Psyche.  With help, she managed to collect the golden fleece.  It involved knowing when to do it and how to be tricky.  I hope I can trust my own knowing on issues with my body.  That would truly be collecting the gold.