The Hyperbaric Dive Begins

Visita Interiora Terrae Rectificando Invenies

Occultum Lapidem Veram Medicinam

Visit the interior of the Earth

And by rectifying you will find the hidden stone

Which is the true medicine.

-ALCHEMICAL AXIOM

Monday, April 4, 2011

“It’s T minus 1 hour until liftoff,” my husband Raphael says to me as we are sitting in the soothing morning sun of our nestled courtyard in Berkeley, CA.  “How are you feeling?”

“A bit fragile…” I reply quietly.  “Like a newborn without a skin.”  Shortly I will be driving myself across the Richmond Bridge to Marin County, to be enclosed in a hyperbaric oxygen chamber for the first time.  After two months of earnest fundraising to be able to do this treatment, I feel subdued, acutely aware that I’m entering into an unknown journey, a 40-day descent into the very cells of my body. When the pressurized oxygen makes its way through tissues and bones to the cellular level, will it feel like a healing liberation, or yet another soul-wearying violation?  Who knows what lurks in the dark silences of my infinitesimal cells, what I will need to feel, to pass through, in order for the transformation to occur. I have to be willing to face it all, to be dissolved and reconstituted in this mysterious process.  Even when the caterpillar wraps herself in a cocoon, does she know she has to become a red liquid, dissolve completely to her former self, before the butterfly can emerge?

As in all alchemical journeys, one starts with the prima materia, the prime matter of creation which is to be broken down and transformed, as well as the vessel of transmutation itself.  For me, the prima materia is the tender, tattered, yet resilient landscape of my physical body.  It’s not only my body which is here to be healed, but the Body of the Earth as well, and all of Her children who are suffering in body, mind, or soul. I know my body is not my own.  My life is always been in service to something larger.  I pray that what I am about to undergo will somehow serve the collective healing of the world.

The time has come for me to leave.  I grab my cotton tunic for the chamber, along with a water bottle and a jar of nuts., and climb into my aged, enormous SUV, a 20-year old red Toyota 4-Runner I call “Emma,” named after Emma Goldman, that “red” Socialist and bold suffragette of the early 20^th century.  I need her courage and fortitude now. Like my body, Emma is a bit tattered but hanging in there nevertheless, my trusty steed for whatever bridges I need to cross.

It takes about a half hour to arrive at the clinic, driving through the toxic fumes of the Chevron Oil Refinery in Richmond to the bright, welcoming expanse of the bridge into Marin. I see a lushly green Mt. Tamalpais ahead of me to the west, the clear geometric skyline of San Francisco to the South.   It’s a glorious Spring day, full of promise. 

As I enter the doors of Advanced Hyperbaric Recovery of Marin, I am greeted by a clear and welcoming environment, and a kind and compassionate staff.  I meet Ruth, who takes my vitals and will be giving me my first hyperbaric dive.  I have to wait over a half hour to get into my chamber, and I feel slightly nervous.  Finally, Janine Thill, the lovely and sympathetic director of the clinic, comes out and says, “Let’s get you started.”  After signing the requisite forms, I change into my 100% cotton gown, and am led into the hyperbaric chamber, a metal vessel punctuated by porthole windows along both sides for light and visibility.  I’ve brought my camera with me, and ask Ruth to take a few pictures once I’m nestled into the chamber.  I’m given a pillow, a cozy blanket, and I wrap myself up and lie back, snug as a bug in a rug.  The door to the chamber is hermetically sealed, and in moments I hear the hiss of 100% medical grade oxygen filling the chamber.

I start breathing deeply, welcoming the pneuma of life.  For a while I practice the zikr of the Naqshbandi order to which I belong, a silent remembrance of the name of God.  I also get distracted from what I see outside my porthole windows – other patients filing by, chatting with the staff.  Robin checks on me several times to see how I’m doing.  Yes, I nod to her, I’m doing OK.  At first it takes time to adjust to the change in pressure, like going up (or down) in an airplane.  My ears pop continually for about 15 minutes, my eyes watering from all the yawning I do as I take in the oxygen.  I get a bit sleepy.

I continue to breathe and look around me, at the white metal chamber, and see a TV screen outside the left porthole window.  Today I’ve forgone the option of watching a movie during my treatment –you know, I want to be fully present with the experience, and use it as an opportunity for spiritual practice.  After a while, however, I get a bit bored.  I think to myself, if I’m going to be spending 90 minutes in here each weekday for the next 2 months, maybe watching movies isn’t such a bad idea!  Perhaps tomorrow I’ll bring that Bollywood movie I got on Netflix.  How’s that for diversion?  I’d prefer to read, but no books are allowed inside the hyperbaric chamber, due to the off-gassing of the print in the presence of such high levels of oxygen.  In this elemental encounter, there are other forbidden items as well – no cell phones, iPods, jewelry, nail polish, lotions, perfumes or haircolor.  In recent months, I’ve been so fatigued I’ve given up on doing hair or makeup, so being unvarnished in here is no problem.

I keep breathing the oxygen, taking it in more deeply.  I imagine the oxygen coursing through my bloodstream, ruthlessly searching out bacteria and other naughty bits to consume.  I start to feel a bit hungry myself, even though I ate a turkey burger and my healing green soup for lunch just a couple of hours ago.  I wonder, does the oxygen increase one’s metabolism?  I’m already dreaming of devouring the mixed nuts I brought as soon as I get out of here.

At last my first hour in the hyperbaric chamber is complete, and Ruth opens the door to release me.  She asks how I am feeling, and I tell her I’m a bit tired, like I need to take a nap.  This is to be expected.  I go off to change and gather my belongings, and pay my bill for the next few days.  Even though the director suggests I go to the full depth tomorrow in a 90-minute session, intuitively I feel it would be best for me to have a couple more 60-minute sessions, so my body can ease into this process gently.   I’m relieved that all the staff are happy to follow the wisdom of my body, and trust my own sense of timing.  This makes all the difference in helping me feel safe, as I dive more deeply into this treatment.

On the drive home, I am aware of tiny aches in my body, seemingly in the areas where the oxygen may be experiencing constriction –in the varicose veins behind my right knee, in the swollen lymph gland in my left breast.  As soon as I get home, a wave of fatigue takes over, so I grab a jar of homemade goat milk yogurt from the fridge, sprinkle some cardamom powder and pink salt on top, and climb into bed.  Once my tummy is sated, I wrap myself in an amethyst-colored, gloriously soft fleece blanket, and drift off to sleep.

An hour and a half later, I’m awakened by the return of my husband Raphael, smiling above me on the bed, wanting to know how the treatment went.  I’m still tired, and hungry again, so Raphael makes us a comforting dinner of broiled salmon and what we like to call “baby food” – steamed greens, pureed with ghee, garlic powder, and salt.  Tonight Raphael adds a splash of rosewater to the “baby food.”  He loves to put rosewater in everything.  I feel the love.  I’m usually the one in the role of Nurturer, doing all the cooking, creating Beauty in our home.  Now I need him to take over.  It’s a chance for our love to deepen. 

Collage Image - “Prima Materia III ”from Alchemy of the Divine, ©2006-2011 by Colette de Gagnier.  To order prints from this series, please visit Alchemy of the Divine and Colette's Visionary Art Gallery.