Zen and the Art of Tube Feeding

Overall my family and I have been pretty lucky with pets. My parents had two cats when I was growing up. The “baby” had a heart condition and I guess my mom had to give it medicine. That usually translated into my sister giving the cat the medicine, as she was destined to eventually work at a vet’s office.

When my husband and I had cats in the ’90’s through the early 2000’s, both passed after relatively short illnesses at 15 and 17 years of age. Until then, the most exciting veterinary experience we had with them was giving thyroid medication to our calico cat, Sheila. She also needed percutaneous fluids near the very end, but that was only a week or so and only once a day.

Nothing could have prepared us for…tube feeding a cat.

The cats we have now, Ichigo and Angel are total sweethearts. At least when Ichigo is not beating up his brother, they are sweethearts. They’re six years old. We were told at their last veterinary appointment in the summer that they were a little pudgy. So, we tried a few things changing their food around. We tried to exercise them more, but discovered that we really have no idea what is amusing to a cat. Most of our attempts resulted in us getting far more exercise than our fuzzy friends. So, when Ichigo looked like he’d lost a little weight, we weren’t that concerned. For some reason, Angel was spending a lot of time sitting next to him and we thought that was so cute! 

Cats are small animals though. So when things start going downhill (we discovered), they go downhill fast. Next thing you know, Ichigo was lethargic and not engaging in any of his normal activities. We were getting  concerned, but it wasn’t until one of our friends commented on how terrible he looked that I called my sister. Rather than waiting until the next day, she advised us to take him to an emergency vet right away.

• Resorptive lesions on his teeth - six extractions
• Pancreatitis - pain meds
• Hepatic lipidosis (fat stuck in the liver from all the weight loss)
• Three days in the animal hospital AND

…wait for it…

• the feeding tube

Those of you who have had infants will laugh at my adventure, I’m sure. Certainly, the idea of chasing down a cat, plunging 48 ml of “slurry” into it’s esophagus…one…milliliter…a…time…six…times…a…day seems like nothing to you. Cleaning the splattered slurry off of the walls after he’s shaken his head vigorously with the tube cap off? Piece of cake. Making the slurry…smelling the slurry…crushing medications and mixing into the slurry? Eh - that’s nothing.

Dreaming about slurry...

In those moments at 2:30 am, after finally figuring out the sequestering the cat in the bathroom for tube feeding is best for everyone involved, there is time to ponder.

I started thinking about mortality and expectations. Pena Chodron once said (quoting someone I believe) “since death is certain and the time of death is uncertain, what is the most important thing?” This is a phrase I consider frequently when I’m faced with difficult situations. In this flurry of activity taking care of the cat, however, I was reminded that I actually do take each day for granted. That “the time of death is uncertain” has translated to my subconscious as “some time in the very distant future that I don’t have to worry about now.” I expect everything to keep clicking along just fine.

I’ve been fortunate in life. I’ve mentioned elsewhere that I had the opportunity to have relationships with three of my great grandparents and that three of my grandparents lived well into their 80’s and 90’s. My father recovered completely from his cardiac arrest - which rarely happens in real life. My parents’s cats lived to be well over 10 years old - even the one with the heart condition. Our last cats lived into their teens. In my good fortune, I lost perspective on the precariousness with which we greet each day. It simply never occurred to me that Ichigo could die, but he almost did.

I’m trying to hold this thought in my head for a while, think about and manipulate it a little, let it sink in. The tube came out last week and my husband, daughter and I are currently obsessed with his gustatory rhythms. It would be easy to forget now and just go on as I did before. At some point, this lesson too will fade. For now though, I bring my palms together and bow to it’s wisdom. Katz!

 

The Dilemma of "The Tree" at the Holidays

To tree or not to tree. That is the question.  

“The tree” has always been one of my favorite parts of the holiday season. It provides a comforting light in the darkness of winter. It adds sparkle to the world and reminds me that green and growth will return again soon. What’s not to love about the tree? Attachment, that’s what!

Randomly last week, I received two communications from two different friends who don’t know one another. Both expounded on their feelings about the tree.

Friend Number 1: A client. (I really hope he forgot I’m a part of his email address book, because honestly who exposes a business associate to a religious tirade. Oh wait a minute…never mind.) But I digress. I received an email from him excoriating people who call the tree a Holiday Tree instead of a Christmas Tree. He is apparently among those who feel there is some kind of war on Christmas and who takes offense to people who say Happy Holidays or excise the word Christmas in reference to the tree. 

Friend Number 2: A self-described born-again Christian. She wrote a post in social media stating that she will no longer put up a tree because it does not have a Christian foundation. She delivered no vitriol in her post. She simply shared her process of examining her past beliefs and behavior and talked about the ways in which she is trying to align her current beliefs with her behavior.

I'm a person who loves the tree, regardless of what you call it and I find this dance of opposites to be fascinating. It makes me think more about attachment.

The Holiday Season is replete with religious symbolism. Humanity’s need to celebrate the solstice in one way or another has resulted in an apparent universal desire to stake a claim to this time of year. There’s that word though - desire. Hence attachment.

I respect my second friend's decision to not have a tree, but it saddens me a little that her attachment to a symbolism that has long since expired is causing her to give up a tradition she previously enjoyed and around which she had built her own traditions.

The anger pouring out of my client and the distain he holds for people who choose to acknowledge that December is the home to more than one holiday reminds me of why attachment is considered the root of all suffering. He is making himself suffer with the anger he’s generating. He made me suffer when the shenpa hit me upon reading his words. He is making the participants of other faiths suffer by refusing to acknowledge space for them in his limited view of the holiday season. 

This December, I wanted to take a moment to remind us that the cultural call to desire and attachment is amplified at this time of year. The religious debates above, the pressure to buy gifts and concurrently think of something to want from others, attachment to having a particular family experience. It’s all pushed on us more intensely this time of year. Let’s make sure not to miss the forest for the trees. 

Who is Average Buddhist:

The Average Buddhist is a voice-specialized speech-language pathologist, health care advocate and singing teacher in Massachusetts. She writes the Average Buddhist blog at www.averagebuddhist.com and moderates the Average Buddhist community on Facebook. Her book The Average Buddhist Explores the Dharma, a humorous tour of Buddhism for every day life, can be found at http://booklocker.com/books/6071.html

The Squirrel Master

Tom over at Homeless Tom wrote a quite pertinent and interesting post entitled "Is hatefulness outside the realm of Buddhism?" Over the last few weeks I have seen myself, on both sides of the fence, how ignorance, anger and hate have and do propagate through the internet, from Buddhists and non-Buddhists alike.

Tom writes;

"But we Buddhists know better than others that America's chutzpah is its Achilles' heel. The arrogance and creaturely neediness of Americans dams the way to happiness" then suggests "The easiest of it ought to be to embrace what seems hateful: to understand it and engage it."

I think Tom definitely hit the mark about conquering hate by embracing it to understand it. Hate is unfortunately inevitable, and we will all at some point in our lives experience both being on the receiving side of it or on the initiating side of it. It can even be argued that hate is the pinnacle expression of destructive human emotions; however, I don't see this as an entirely bad thing. Indeed, if we are mindful of ourselves, and how these types of negative and harmful emotions arise within our own minds, I think it can actually benefit our practice.

Carrying around hate is much like trying to physically hold an angry squirrel in your hand. Ok, yea thats silly, but hear me out....I know first hand that actually trying to hold an angry squirrel is one of the most unpleasant yet hilarious experiences a person can endure. It was brutally hot that Sunday afternoon in July 18 years ago, and the squirrel looked so cute, furry and innocent, so being the teenager I was I took the unfortunate decision that I wanted to hold him. In not one of my more brilliant moments as a member of an advanced animal species I reached down and picked him up like I was picking a flower from a plant. The squirrel obviously startled, proceeded to immediately chomp down into my hand and violently flail about with his claws, trying desperately to get away. My brother, both amused and worried, shouted at me, "Why are you holding that squirrel?" In the chaos of the moment, with the blood and the fur and the squirrel teeth and the little mini claws flashing about me like some slow motion epic battle scene, all I could utter were the words "Fucker bit me!" Despite his unrelenting assault on my arms, hands and face, I sensed I was engaged in a mortal struggle of man vs. squirrel and for some egotistical (i.e. stupid) reason I just wouldn't let go. When I finally had enough and let him go, my brother said I looked like I was attacked by an army of extremely aggressive kittens.

Although extremely humorous now, I had let my pride and ego speak louder than my good judgment and common sense, hence I got my ass kicked by a squirrel. Many times I think we fail to make the connection between hate or other powerful emotions and our own suffering; preoccupying our thoughts and mind with this protection of ego and pride. This is where our knowledge and practice of Buddhism can help us identify the root of hate and understand the nature of attaching to such painful thoughts and emotions. When we make an effort to understand how confusion and suffering arise within ourselves, we can begin to see the beauty of the practice of mindfulness and meditation. It is in this moment, this magical and beautiful moment, when we bring ourselves back to this moment that we can fully understand the connection between mind and suffering, self and dukkha. While we shouldn't celebrate such destructive thoughts, when they do occur they can certainly be embraced to enhance the understanding of ourselves and our place within this world. In that moment of understanding we may be able to finally see the significance of non-attachment and find true freedom of mind.

(And freedom of squirrel of course.)

"Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one getting burned."~Buddha