Twelve hours later…


After a long day as a ‘lady in waiting‘, I was eventually sent home from the hospital; no new liver, not even a souvenir t-shirt! Not yet.

After all was said and done, the donor liver in question wasn’t of good quality and was rejected by the surgeons, something that apparently happens about a third of the time. I am glad to have gotten the call nonetheless, it acts as a good reminder that it is not a matter of if I will get a new liver, but when. It also gives me an idea of how many other people are in my blood group and size that are waiting, which seems to be less than I imagined. I have hope.

I complete a long day feeling very very lucky to be in a state of health that affords me the mental and physical space to have patience for the right donor situation to emerge without feeling desperate. I also am relieved that my son starts to understand more and more about the situation so that I can minimize the potential impact on his life. Lastly, I’m reminded how wonderful the ongoing support of family and friends has been and continues to be. I feel truly blessed by this, and it is coupled by my respect and faith in the liver transplant team at the Royal Free Hospital who feel more and more like trusted family. Life is good.

Getting the call


At 5:30 this morning our landline rang. Having been up already for several hours engaged in my normal itching and scratching rituals, I was surprised by the vigor my husband bounded out of bed with, it was if he was expecting the call. It was the transplant coordinator. They only call at 5:30am on a Saturday for one reason.

“Hi, Elizabeth? I’m calling to let you know there is a potential liver for you…” This is how I come to find myself at the Royal Free Hospital this morning. No stop at A&E, no wheel chairs; I just walked myself into the ward in my comfiest yoga clothes with suitcase in hand (coincidentally, I find myself in the bed exactly opposite from the one I rested in during my emergency TIPS procedure in 2009).

I’m once again in the waiting place while the potential donor liver is assessed. If it’s a go, I will be taken to theatre imminently for the 6-12 hour transplant surgery. If its not a go, I will go home and get on with life as I know it.

The potential liver is what is known as a DBD liver, a live liver of a 76 year old, brain dead woman of my size and blood type. These are the only details I will ever know. In this situation the way the surgeons assess the condition of the liver is by seeing it, and this happens in the last moments before the surgery.

I overhear two other post-transplant patients discussing food and the quality of meat products their husbands are able to purchase online versus in various supermarkets, and it dawns on me that their chat has more to do with the conversations I’ve been having with the transplant team over the past several hours than I care to admit. The quality of the the donor organ is largely based on a visual assessment, not unlike going to the butcher or fish monger.

It is an odd thought, to take a major organ from someone nearly twice your age in order to sustain your own life. This liver has already been through the arc of life with its original owner, and is now preparing to be repurposed for the use of another. In some ways it isn’t so different from what happens daily at mealtime when one being eats the flesh of another. Both of these acts take away life from one source to sustain life in another. A main difference is that the potential organ donor isn’t losing their life expressly for me; for all intents and purposes they are already dead and have lived a full life. In contrast, most animals raised for food have a horrible life to begin with and die quite young. To compound this they are eaten by someone who doesn’t know or care about the life they led before the point of consumption.

But I digress. It has been a long night and will be a long day whether the transplant is a go, or not. Thirst and hunger are kicking in, and I’ve just been informed there are multiple potential transplants being worked up, which may mean timings shift dramatically. Everything is subject to change, like life. And just when something feels like forever…

If I could turn back time…


My husband sometimes reminds me that we’ll will never be as young as we are now. He’ s right, and experiences in my life have helped to serve as a daily reminder that all of life is temporary, continually changing and unknown. While our age is fixed to a common construct, the aging process is one highly unique to each individual based on a variety of factors, some of which are controllable, some not. Despite our inability to predict the future or account for the unknown, a multi-billion dollar industry has erupted based largely on conditioning a broad audience to believe that they can turn back time by purchasing a pill, face lift or equivalent.

Cher lover or not, this past Sunday I found myself for a brief moment at the “most Exciting Anti Aging Event in the UK”. The anti aging health and beauty show (note the unassuming all lower-cased typography choice) took place at the Olympia conference hall in London. I was there to teach a half hour yoga class, but as I was unsure of what kind of audience I should prepare for, I arrived a few minutes early to walk around the hall and assess the situation. Within those few minutes, I heard myself audibly asking “and what does this have to do with anti-aging” at each new booth offering nail extension, tooth whitening or fake lashes I encountered. At the end of my walk about, I headed back to the yoga stage in disbelief. People had paid money to attend this trade show. Most carried bags of purchased products as they congregated around live demos offering the latest secret in turning back the clock. In mere moments I myself would don a headset. But what would I say?

Without an audience, I found myself at a cross roads. I could walk out, disassociating from anything that I saw, play the game as an inviting host into the sublime world of yoga, or be radical. And then, nature took its course. Switching on the microphone, I began a dialogue with passers by. Stopping people randomly to ask about what they had purchased, I invited a simple question to each: what did it have to do with anti-aging? I assured each person I had nothing to sell, and had no great secret to uncover. After a minute or two I addressed a small audience with something like this:

Longevity doesn’t come from a face lift, whiter teeth, Botox or hair extensions. It doesn’t come from laser eye surgery, drinking champagne or eating expensive chocolates, all of which are here on promotion today. The only thing that may help to slow the aging process is to learn how to breathe. Learn how to connect your body with the mind. By giving the mind a single point of focus, the breath, we can practice staying present, and by moving the breath with the body, we begin to eliminate long held physical and mental toxins. This practice is called yoga.

During my monologue a few more people stopped to listen, and some even found their way onto mats for a short vinyasa practice focusing on the breath. I left the conference hall thinking about Cher. An emblem of timelessness for many, I considered the countless surgeries and procedures she endured to arrive at her current state of distorted agelessness. I wondered about her mental and physical health.

That night I received a call from my sister, a research professor and an expert in the field of caring for the elderly. She’s involved in a field of medicine called gerontology, directly bearing the burden of the ‘anti-aging’ process. What do we do as a society as people live longer to promote a good quality of life for the elderly? These questions seems a long way off from those looking for the fountain of youth in a tooth whitener.

With such a wide range of perspectives on aging and anti-aging, one thing is clear: there seems to be a large disconnect about what the media and marketing have done to influence how we think about health, the aging process, the relationship between the outer body and overall health, and the bigger relationships we have with family, friends, healthcare providers and the broader universe.

It seems the more we can create strength and flexibility in the body, the more supple the mind, the better our overall health.

Ironically, I write this from a hospital bed awaiting to hear if the transplantation of a 76 year old liver into my 40 year old body is a go…sort if spins the whole question of anti aging on its side, doesn’t it?

Coming up for air


I’ve never been an avid swimmer. While admittedly I’ve spent afternoons with ridiculous looking swimming goggle intents around my eyes and remnants of chlorine smell on my skin, the feeling after going swimming has always outweighed the actual process of being in the pool swimming laps. Nonetheless, after the first several minutes of a continuous swim when the breath and stroke pace normalise, something akin to the practice of yoga sets in; rather than ‘working’ to swim, the process of swimming becomes fluid and self-sustaining for a longer (and more enjoyable) period of time. Life can sometimes feel this way too.

In practice, the act of coming up for air can translate into anything that brings us out of a state of self absorbtion into a more open space. This new sense of space invites dimensionality and a shift in perspective. It can be as simple as taking a deep breath, going for a walk, reading a book or making time to catch up with a friend.

When undertaking something new whether it be a job, relationship or a change in circumstance, it takes adjusting; ‘coming up for air’ in these moments sometimes seems more of a necessity than a moment to savor. As we adapt to the new situation over time, however, we have a choice to set a pace that promotes a more nourishing breath, one that can be enjoyable and delicious.

Life is a largely unknown journey. We do the best we can with the information we have based on our past experiences and expectations for our futures, but so much remains out of our control. For some, life is nothing but a series of events leading to gasps for air; necessary holidays to catch up on sleep or investment into programs to provide a reprise from the toxicity of daily life. The more we can readily adapt and adjust into a sustainable daily rhythm free from expectation and full of delight, the more we can be with our breath as we come up for air regularly.

In my own life, I’ve recently moved through a rapid transition of several different ‘swimming’ patterns, and finally have a sense I’ve arrived in a place where I can rest into my breath. The first pattern existed based on an old habit behaviour; one that through awareness I have routinely sought to break, but even more regularly reverted back to. This lifestyle was largely based on expectation and drive. Whether it came from my upbringing, is a part of my human nature, or exists as a cultural norm, I had an inherent expectation of self to strive to be hardworking and successful in all that I did; as mother, in my relationships and in my professional life. I routinely overfilled my schedule, and as a result had a sense that I never quite had the time to catch my breath. I chose to swim in the fast lane, at best keeping up, at worst rushing to get to the end of the pool only to turn around for the next lap.

The second pattern emerged rapidly without warning or control. As a longterm illness eventually caught up with me, everything around me, all that I strove to achieve and all that I was passionate about in my life came to a toppling down..I was treading water in the slow lane and gasping for air. Forced to let go of everything extra and stripped of any false sense of me, after a prolonged period of caring for my most basic self with huge benefits from modern medicine and the support of friends and family, I’ve arrived. I’m living in the present.

The third pattern I’ve adopted over the course of the past month is a self-regulated pace that feels sustainable and appropriate for where I am in my life at this moment. This includes a whole sense of self; one that is made up as me as a mother, wife, daughter, sister, transplant patient, yoga practitioner, body worker and teacher, among other things. These days I’m more interested in the negative space in my diary rather than sorting through complicated overlapping colour blocks.

Whether swimming in a pool, a sea or the proverbial ocean of life, we all need to come up for air at some point. Asking some fundamental questions about how we go about doing this and what the quality of breath is may uncover answers or more interesting questions about the ebb and flow of our daily existence. Happy swimming.

Everyday Detox: The Workshop (and asana practice)


rhianandlizzieSunday, June 16th
1:30-4:30pm
at Indaba Yoga Studio

with Rhian Stephenson, Naturopath & Nutritionist & Lizzie Reumont, Jivamukti Yoga Teacher and Bodyworker (that’s me!)

We all carry a toxic burden…

Every year over 1.5 billion kilograms of toxic chemicals are released into the environment and added into the food we eat. These toxins accumulate in our bodies negatively impacting our overall health.

What is the toxic burden on our bodies and what are the sources of toxicity that we are exposed to from food, environment, lifestyle and leisure habits? What can be done to decrease it in order to improve overall health?

Join Rhian Stephenson and to learn strategies to help you decrease their impact and produce healthy, sustainable effects. Lizzie will lead an hour yoga asana practice focusing on detoxifying postures and breath work.

This workshop will explore all of the detoxification options available to us; ranging from full seasonal detoxes to everyday tips that can be easily implemented into your lifestyle.

Workshop includes:
-an introduction to detoxification
-a 1 hour asana practice focusing on creating internal heat through vinyasa, pranayama and twisting sequences
-an individual toxic burden assessment
-a detox handbook including assessments, recipes, home remedies and seasonal cleanses
freshly pressed detox juices & snacks

Don’t miss it!

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 1,162 other followers

%d bloggers like this: