Freedom from attachment is the cure for suffering

In Buddhism, three concepts are said to characterise all things:

1. Anicca - nothing is permanent, everything changes
2. Anatta - there is no separate self - what we experience as identity is a changing constellation of many influences
3. Dukka - to believe otherwise, to cling to some thing or someone or oneself and expect it to be enduring is to create and amplify suffering.

It will surprise no one that I have turned to Buddhism in my days of immobility - goes with the territory really - fold up bike (trashed), shiny mac powerbook, green energy tariff, right-on recycler, reader of broadsheets, organic veggie box, frequent visitor to South East Asia, and a three month stint on a small farm with a Buddhist family back in 1999. Not that these things have made me a better or happier person - the beautiful irony is of course my very public attachment to this identity, this lifestyle, and the (expensive) shiny things that go with it.

I got to thinking about attachment a few days ago when I discovered, with dismay and disappointment, that my physiotherapist is transferring to another hospital at the end of the month. The frustration of having to meet someone new, to tell my story again, to develop enough trust to accept significant levels of pain, and my toddler like fury at the unfairness of it all, prompted a rethink. My journey through the NHS system is going to require many changes in personel, deviations from planned approaches, setbacks and unexpected successes. I know that I cannot afford to become attached to people or plans - it will only cause more misery and anxiety.

And as I must try to reduce attachments within the NHS, so I must severe the ones that are causing my current frustration. Cycling, cooking, popping out to get a paper, washing my own hair, having a bath, walking on the beach, having two healthy legs and feet... But then, damnit, I need to ensure I don't develop new ones - my moonboot for example is already a not so subtle extension of my right leg, my wheelchair a new bicycle, my crutches a right leg, my status as victim elicits sympathy and visitors, the comfort of my temporary home much preferable to the difficulties of going back to my flat (if I can ever get up the sodding stairs).

Freedom from attachment is the cure for suffering. It sounds trite. It even looks trite. But there is something in it. Lifetimes are required to reach Nirvana - not a couple of years going through the NHS. I guess all I can do for a start is to try to avoid some of the clinging - and give a huge welcoming grin to my new physiotherapist instead of an ungrateful grunt when we finally meet.