Cate LaBarre

As some of you know, I am currently in the middle of an anti-viral drug regimen.  One of the more “difficult” side effects is a drug rash. This rash can drive people right out of treatment when the itching or rash becomes unbearable. And drug rash I have. Most of the time, I can tune it out, but come the wee hours of the night, I’m wide awake, itchy, and want to jump out of my skin.  Imagine the sensation of bugs crawling on you and every now and then they all decide to bite at once.  Descriptive enough?

My girlfriends, Donna, Jackie and Jen, got me a gift certificate for the Roosevelt Baths here in Saratoga Springs. Though I have tasted all the effervescent healing waters from the springs scattered about the landscape, I have never taken in the healing baths. When I reported that I have a rash and should probably wait, Jen jumped right on it. NO, she said, YOU MUST GO NOW! IT WILL HELP YOU! She relayed her own story of being cured of a horrible allergic reaction to bug bites and then told me that a friend who had a rash from chemotherapy swore the baths got her through. Who am I to argue? I took the plunge, literally, and met my girlfriends at the baths Saturday.

I couldn’t have been more pleased and surprised. Though expecting to come away relaxed and ready for a nap, I couldn’t have imagined the results. Though the rash on my torso was still quite angry looking, the itching subsided for a full 24 hours. I hadn’t had that kind of relief from any home soak or remedy.

I made an appointment to return Wednesday. In the meantime, I spoke to my health care provider about the rash and the baths. She advised numerous over-the-counter drug store remedies. Having already tried many without any relief, I was skeptical.  I talked more about the baths; she was skeptical and suggested that it was probably “just the hydration”. This is not the case, since I have been soaking in Aveeno baths at home daily. None of the OTC remedies did anything for me but aggravate the redness. The closest I’ve come to relief with topical application continues to be PURE Aloe Vera gel (not the kind from the drug store, but the 100% gel from the health food store), and Chrissey’s magic goat’s milk body butter (check it out at joyofthejourneyfarm.com).

Back to the healing waters. Despite the skepticism of my lovely nurse practitioner, who I truly believe has my best interest at heart, I decided to throw the list away of even more drug store topicals and make my investment in another bath.

Wednesday I arrived 45 minutes before my bath. I picked up a book at Saratoga Library written by a doctor who studied The Queen of Spas healing waters for decades. It seemed the perfect addition to my tea as I relaxed before a steam and bath. The tubs are in private rooms, relaxing music, soft lighting, candles, private bathroom. An attendant draws the bath water and comes to find me at the appointed time for my 40 minute soak. The water is deep, effervescent and brown! I can’t see my toes. I float like I’m in a warm sea. This time I visualize the toxins that are no longer needed to kill the virus easily and gently leaving my body. Drawn out by the healing waters, returned to the earth to be transmuted into harmless base. I stay with this visualization throughout my treatment. My bath attendant knocks after 40 minutes and brings me a heated towel. It’s all I can do this time to get dressed and leave the baths. I fantasize about returning on Thursday. I know I’ll be back soon.

There is a risk that I am mistaken. That this “water cure” that I firmly believe in now has no merit. And yet the thought of putting more chemicals ON my skin to relieve an itch and rash that is an allergic reaction to chemicals I’ve ingested just doesn’t make sense. Who am I to argue with thousands of years of tradition of human beings to take in the baths? And to the millions of people who have flocked to Saratoga for its healing waters. Who am I to argue with the dozens of people I see in lines at the springs each time I drive through the park? They aren’t just tasting the waters, they are filling bottles to take home.

This morning my husband reported that the rash on my back is no longer red and angry. In some places it is gone. My chest and belly certainly look better. The itch is subsiding. Now I lay in bed at night and let go of the discomfort. I ask the divine to take it away and bathe me in peace and healing light. I visualize the chemicals that I no longer need easily leaving my body with no allergic reaction. And I dream of my next visit to the baths!

I share this not just to convince you that there are natural healing waters available to us but to pose the following questions: How often do you ignore your intuition that invites you try something new? How often do you defer to the experts when your gut says NO, THERE’S ANOTHER WAY? How often are you afraid to take a risk because you might make be wrong, make a mistake or displease another? Trust yourself, be strong, take a risk. And next time you’re in Saratoga Springs, I’ll meet you at the Roosevelt Baths!

Roosevelt Baths, Saratoga Springs

Our coaching community meets by teleconference twice a month. It’s a great way to stay connected to our colleagues and friends, since we are scattered all over the world. A group of volunteers from our community organize and take turns facilitating the calls. Last month, Martyn was on the call early to greet coaches as we chimed in from England, Denmark, New Zealand, South Africa, Nova Scotia, Sweden, Vancouver, Taiwan, NY, California, Florida, and points in between.  PHEW!

Martyn lives in Australia. I love talking to him on Thursday afternoon from NY, because it is already Friday morning “down under”. As Martyn is having his first cup of coffee sweating into his wallabies, setting his clock for daylight savings time, I am snuggled in my polar fleece complaining about an early freak snowstorm! I smile as I think about Martyn beginning MY tomorrow as I complete HIS yesterday.

An early arriver on the call from Canada, playfully asked Martyn to tell us about HIS today, OUR tomorrow: “What can we expect tomorrow, Martyn?” In an equally playful voice Martyn responded: “Ooooooo, I can’t tell you that. It’s a secret. You must discover it for yourself.”

What if we began every day like a young child anticipating a birthday, filled with surprise, celebration, excitement?  What would our days be like if we awakened every morning knowing that there is a secret waiting to be revealed in any moment? What would our lives be like if we realized that each day contains a gift beyond anything we can imagine?

Thank you, Karen and Martyn, for this playful exchange that has inspired me to face each day with the curiosity of a child.

I have been thinking about my mother’s cooking lately. When I was a kid, she made wonderful homemade soups and golden, crusty loaves of bread in the cool months. One of my jobs in her kitchen was to “sort beans”. I took a pound of beans and snipped open a corner of the bag, dropped one layer of beans onto a small plate and removed any “defective” beans, grit and tiny stones.  I loved my job. At the time I didn’t realize that it was a meditative experience. I was focused on one thing, pouring, sorting and placing the “clean” beans in a saucepan for soaking. My mother took great care in cooking for her family.

As my kitchen fills with the smell of garlic sautéing in olive oil, I miss her. I recall that the love and warmth that I longed for and was often lacking, I felt most when I was by her side in the kitchen. Along with gardening and sewing, it was the only time she slowed down at home, and it was apparent in the quality and love reflected in what she produced.

My mother went “back to work” when I was 7. She worked as a secretary at a local public school with the benefit of having school vacations off with her children. She still took the time on weekends and vacations to make fabulous, healthy meals. But during the week, her cooking became rushed and frenzied. This was the late 50s and the advent of “frozen food plans”. The big upright kilowatt-sucking freezer went in our basement and was filled monthly with frozen fish sticks, burgers, assorted pot pies and vegetables.  Lucky thing we had that deep freeze, my mother was the blur of a whirling dervish weeknights!  I learned how to cook “on the fly” from her as well, which served me later as a short order cook and for my years as a single mom and caregiver to both of my parents.

As I slow down my cooking, I picture my mother and grandmother side by side in the kitchen, aprons on, delicious smells, wooden spoons flying as they bantered and argued in Italian.  I’ve stopped preparing canned beans except in the direst pinch of time. And yet I notice there are some things I make that just don’t taste as good as my mom’s. As I reflect on this during bean preparation last night, I recall that I have been creating my OWN short cuts to save time and they are not turning out the quality that I remember. I never skip sorting beans, heaven forbid anyone break a tooth on a stone (though I haven’t found one since I was 10). As I look closely, I realize my preparation time has been reduced by short cuts. I no longer use everything I learned by her side in the kitchen.  I decide to go back to the basics. My mother’s Cannellini beans were slightly creamy and deliciously saturated with the flavor of olive oil, salt and garlic. I remember the vital step!  It wasn’t the beans, it was ALL the steps in the preparation, skipping even one spoils the recipe.  I cook the beans as my mother taught me, slowly, deliberately, skipping nothing. I laugh at myself and wonder who AM I to mess with the culinary skills and love of generations of Northern Italian mamas and  cooks in my maternal lineage?

What does this have to do with life? What I learned from my mother was to be deliberate in my intention, preparation, and execution and to always remember to stir in some love.  When I rush to get a meal on the table, the taste is just a little “off”.  I can’t taste the love.

When I rush to produce in my work or communicate in relationships, I am bound to miss an important step, appear unprofessional or uncaring, make a mistake, have to apologize, then double back to try to fix it.  And the love is missing.  When I am deliberate in my intention, preparation and execution, I produce a meal, class, workshop or piece of writing that reflects all the love and caring that I feel in my heart. My communication is clear with clients and loved ones; they know they have been heard and that I care. In the long run I also save the time that it takes to double back and try to “fix it” when I’ve rushed.

My mother, Vera, in 1999 on the left, with two of her four sisters, Lilia and Dina.

How about you? What short cuts are you taking that no longer serve you? What do you miss about a slower pace? What did your mother teach you that still has the value of generations of wisdom? What wise “old” practice or habit can you reclaim now and make your “new” practice today?

My husband and I had a conversation a few days ago about “what it takes” to make a BIG change in life. I shared with him that for me my biggest changes occurred when I felt like I had hit “rock bottom”. In my early 20s I was living near NY City and I was addicted to heroin and losing my grip fast. I was about to lose my apartment and just barely got myself to work each day. I saw what Methadone programs were doing to others — creating greater addiction and dependence and there was no way I would take that path. I did not feel I could turn to my parents nor did I want to. They had their own “rock bottom” at the time and my shame was too deep. I had to face the truth. I was an addict. I couldn’t get clean alone.

Through allowing myself to surrender to “rock bottom” and then the grace of the Divine, I found another way. Removing myself completely from my environment, giving up my job and apartment, packing up my VW bug and heading a couple hundred miles away to a friend who had offered help, I quit, “cold turkey”, and got the monkey off my back, never to return.

I realize today that this is a theme in life, at least in my life, that sometimes I need to hit “rock bottom” in order to surrender, ask for help, let go, let God.  From somewhere in that place of humility I find the strength to go on.

I could write a book just about my experience of “hitting rock bottom”. But I’ll stop with two more stories.

My first “real” Adirondack Mountain hike that I took was when I was in my late 40s.  I was overweight, out of shape, and had lousy hiking boots. As I struggled to make it to the top and back again, in true tortoise fashion (and covered with mud — head to boot), I engaged in self-deprecating dialogue: I hated myself for being so unfit, I hated hiking, I hated my boots, I hated the boyfriend who took me on this slog, and I vowed I would NEVER hike again. It was October and it looked like I was safe from an invitation until the following year.  I threw away my hiking boots in the nearest trash can and started thinking of excuses.

That was a “rock bottom” place for me. I felt defeated and weak. Something shifted over that Winter that I can’t even recall consciously. By Spring I was shopping for new boots and had begun to work out to strengthen my legs and core, improve my balance and increase my aerobic capacity. Over the next year or so of frequent hiking, I was able to work up to a high peak experience for my 50th birthday! All from hitting “rock bottom” and surrendering to the truth;  I was pathetically out of shape and I needed help.

Fast forward to today. As you know from reading my blog I am in a treatment protocol to cure me of hepatitis C infection I picked up as an IV drug user all those many years ago. Being transparent, no longer hiding both the “truth” of my addiction and my decision to go for treatment, took hitting “rock bottom”. In order to “thrive” during my treatment, I knew that I needed help from the divine, my angels, all the powers of the universe. I reached out and asked for support and the prayers of friends, to have the strength to face treatment each day. I pray for strength. All from experiencing “rock bottom”.

Now at about 11 weeks in, at moments I feel that I’ve hit “rock bottom” again. I need more rest than I did even when pregnant or sick. I need to practice impeccable self-care more than ever. That self-care changes on a daily basis, because my needs seem to change on a daily basis. I never know what to expect. Being fluid, surrendering and “going with the flow” and making constant adjustments has been an extraordinary lesson. I’ve been forced by “rock bottom” to give up hiking and my usual training routine. My body just won’t let me.

I have grown so much in just these few short weeks. I relish in leisurely walks with time to explore my surroundings. My husband and I bought our first canoe (having sold our kayaks a few years ago because we preferred hiking). We’ve been getting outdoors while the weather still allows  us to “paddle”. What a treat! I’ve never really “loved” paddling until “rock bottom”. I feel like a little kid again, noticing all that nature has to offer along the shore, in the water and air.

I love naps. I’ve learned that I really CAN live without caffeine. I appreciate the support of my friends more than ever. I love my life, with all its challenges, and am grateful that I can have this treatment that may be a cure.

I look forward to the days of getting my muscular self back in shape. I believe that I’ll be even stronger because the virus that has been there to offer an extra challenge to everything I do will be gone.  I have a VISION of a healthier-than-ever ME. I have a GOAL of hiking with ease a year from now. Both my vision and goal fuel me on the path to full recovery. I can picture myself scrambling over the ROCKS of BOTTOM. Nothing can stop me.

Do you need to hit “rock bottom” in order to make a change?

Have you created a new VISION and GOAL to inspire your journey? I would love to hear all about it.

I found a beautiful box turtle just down our road two days ago.  I had been wanting a turtle all season for our garden pond and there it was crossing the road!  I took Turtle home to meet the frogs who have adopted us and visit with our cats in our fenced-in outdoor sanctuary. I soon realized that Turtle wasn’t happy in the confines of its imposed home. She had explored all there was of pond and began exploring fence to find a way out to freedom. Slow and steady, all around the edge. Yesterday as the sun warmed frogs and cats, she slept not in a spot of warm October sunshine, but hid under the morning glories planted along the fence.

Yesterday I got news that the treatment I am receiving for a chronic viral infection of 38 years is working, but not quite “fast enough”, not quite “good enough”. My viral load, which had been 5.5 million per 1 ml of blood plasma just eight weeks prior was reduced to 70 by triple drug therapy, impeccable self-care, visualization and the prayers of family and friends. Though this is great news, in order for treatment to end at 28 weeks, “numbers” needed to be under 40 at that eight-week milestone. Treatment has been extended to 36 weeks. It is a metaphor for my life, feeding my story is that I am never quite “good enough” that I can never do things “fast enough”.

Like the turtle, it seems to take me longer to accomplish tasks and goals. Though as I reflect I am sure from turtle’s view of the world “life” happens good enough and fast enough. Perspective is everything. So what if it takes me longer to climb a mountain, swim across a pond, learn a new skill, read a book, write a blog entry, get the punchline of a joke, cosmic or otherwise? So what if it takes me longer to clear an infection? So what if I am destined to have this longer experience, whether it leads to a cure or not? This is my unique journey and my life in itself is a miracle.  In the story of the tortoise and the hare, tortoise wins the race by slow, steady, undaunted persistence. It is not hare, tortoise was never meant to be hare. It accepts the perfection of its being tortoise.

I do climb to the top of mountains, swim, learn, grow, write and “get jokes” eventually. I am undaunted when I choose to be.

When dawn breaks in an hour, I will take Turtle back to her large wooded wetland. I will walk Turtle across the bridge to the other side of the pond and stream of the beautiful Girl Scout Camp she likely wandered from to cross my path and deliver her message. I hope that she does not find the road again unless it is her destiny. I will free Turtle from the confines I created for my cats who don’t do well in the wild and return her to her wild home where she will live her life as she was born to do. As I set her safely down in the woods near the stream, I will metaphorically release myself from the confines of my limited beliefs and expectations of what is possible for me in my healing and in my quest to deliver my unique gifts to the world. Turtle has delivered her powerful message. Thank you Turtle.

Just hours before I saved Turtle from the road I heard the news that the world lost its greatest innovator and inventor. Undaunted by his own illness, Steve Jobs kept on delivering his unique gifts to the world right to the end of his days on Mother Earth.

Yesterday on receiving the news that longer treatment is advised, I asked myself, “W.W.S.J.D.? What Would Steve Jobs Do?” I heard the answer in this quote from Steve Jobs mentioned in the news and posted all over Facebook moments after his passing: “Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know of avoiding the trap of thinking that you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.”

Thank you, Steve Jobs, for delivering your unique gifts and sharing this wise perspective.

I accept today that this is my destiny, my journey, my cosmic lesson and I embrace it joyfully with every cell of my being. I am undaunted like Turtle. Slow and steady. I hear and breathe in Steve Jobs message. I will continue to follow my heart. I will continue my journey knowing and trusting that all is as it should be.

.

There’s a saying, “You don’t get a second chance to make a first impression.” I am amazed how many times this shows up for me. “Bad” first impressions cause me to respond differently depending on the situation. In the case of the missed diagnosis I received at a local health center (see July 3rd post, Listen Up People), I did NOT go back to the same health care provider, but saw someone else and then wrote a letter to the supervising powers that be. The provider was informed of their mistake and my insurance company and I received refunds for the visit.

In the most recent incident of a “bad” first impression (Ground Rules, Sept 12) I hoped to clean it up, clear the air and go for a second chance, a “replacement” impression. Rather than wait for my next appointment, still weeks away, I decided to call the health care provider to see if she was willing to have a conversation about our communication snafu and “bad” first impression. Little did I know HOW BAD it was! Before we even met we had a rocky start with scheduling problems that her staff mishandled. She assumed that I blamed her because I complained heartily to the staff and made a clear demand for remedy. I can be such a bitch, that’s a good thing sometimes, it gets action!

Here is what we discovered in our conversation that I never would have realized had we not talked. When I met this newest member of my health care team (a woman with years of experience in this specialty) I began by acknowledging her for “making our appointment work” and she was completely offended and insulted! Oh my, what had I done? My husband tells me “you’re not like most people, Cate, she didn’t get it, she thought you were being sarcastic.” Wow, I was shocked and dismayed to realize that I had begun the downward spiral in communication with this vitally important member of my health care team and that I was oblivious to the fact and I had been blaming her! Well, truth be known, we are each responsible. Everything that I shared in my last post DID happen and it was unpleasant and unsettling.  Relationships are co-created. The important part was that I knew something was really OFF and there was no way I was going to let it slide and lose more energy fretting about it. I made an invitation to clear the air, she was willing, we have a fresh start, powerful co-creators of our relationship and partners in my health care! Very empowering.

Where do you need to walk away from a bad first impression? Where do you need to set a boundary or take action? Where do you need to consider giving that bad first impression a rest and giving yourself and the other person a second chance by clearing the air?

It is so interesting to me that I believe I’m pretty good at communicating and then I find myself “slap dab in the middle” of a communication breakdown that blows me right out of the water. My internal dialogue starts, “What just happened? Was I alone in the room? I thought we were on the same page, we weren’t even in the same book!” And on and on it goes, with me beating myself up, making the other person wrong, and wasting my time and precious energy because I THOUGHT I was good at communicating!

What are the ground rules for communication? What do you do when the other person doesn’t have the same rule book? I was reminded AGAIN at a recent check up with my “health care” team member.

Here is what I see as the “issue”. She is anxious. I am anxious. She is scattered, me too. I don’t know what her agenda is, I can only guess it’s to get me out of the room in 12 minutes without too much whining and complaining. MY agenda is to be not just heard, but listened to, acknowledged, and satisfied with information. Was I clear about that? Heck NO!

This is what I’ll do next month.

• Have my list ready and well written
• Ask her how much time she has designated for our appointment
• Have her do my vitals and discuss lab work first
• Ask her to let me know when she is complete
• Share my agenda with her, what I expect from our visit
• Ask her to not interrupt me until I complete my thought or question and then reflect what she thinks she heard me ask or say before she speaks
• Not leave until I am satisfied and have all my questions have been answered and requests fulfilled

That feels pretty good. What do you think? What do you do when you are not satisfied with communication with health care providers? I would love your feedback and suggestions — please post your comment on my blog!