A Change of Heart by Claire Sylvia with William Novak A Change of Heart stimulates the mind with possible answers to some of life's deepest mysteries. It opens our spirits to new and ultimately comforting ways of accepting our mortality. It inspires us with the mesmerizing story of a courageous, sensible, and generous woman who was determined to understand what was happening to her and would not rest until she knew. And, most of all, it floods the darkness of tragedy with an immeasurable light. Claire Slyvia is a dancer and choreographer. She has also founded several transplant support groups, lectured around the world, taught dream choreography, and currently preforms as a ballroom dancer. Acknowledgments To protect their privacy, I have changed the names of some of the individuals mentioned in this book, including the members of my donor's family and the transplant recipients who are quoted or written about in these pages. William Novak and I want to recognize some of the many people who helped us along the way: Mary Ansaldo, John Brinduse, Isabella Clemente, Maureen Dezell, Larry Dossey, Gail Eddy, Brendan Farrington, Patricia Garfield, Jim Gleason, Myrna Goldstein, Rick Ingrasci, Bob and Barbara Katz, Marilyn Kurtz, Ruth Levy, Mike Mattil, Marilyn Mazza, Taren Metson, Nancy Mulvehill, Pam Newton, Peter Ogden, Paul Pearsall, Elaine Rogers, Linda Russek, Terry Schraeder, Gary Schwartz, Rupert Sheldrake, Bernie Siege!, Walillian Tyson, Claire and George Vasios, and particularly Sheila Weiser. We especially want to thank agent Ike Williams, whose early support and wise advice made this book possible; Robert Bosnak, who contributed many valuable hours and insights; and our editor, William Phillips, whose clear, consistent vision kept us on track. I also wish to thank my friends and family members who were there when I needed them; Dr. John Baldwin and the wonderful staff at YaleNew Haven Hospital, and (again!) Gail Eddy; my fellow transplant recipients who shared their experiences; Bill and Linda Novak, who opened their hearts and their home to me; and Jerry Mulcahy, who remained at my side throughout this long and exciting project. Finally, I am indebted to the family of Tim Lasalle for welcoming me, answering my questions, and no small matter saving my life. Foreword By BERNIE SIEGEL, M. D. I know the truth of Claire Sylvia's remarkable story. I met her in the hospital shortly after her transplant, and we have stayed in touch since then. While I can't necessarily explain the amazing things that have happened to Claire, I have no trouble believing them. That's why I enjoy speaking with astronomers and quantum physicists, who are continually dealing with mysterious and unexplained events. I look forward to the day when physicians, too, will be comfortable acknowledging and accepting the mysteries all around us. That day is coming, and the signs are everywhere. People like Candace Pert, Joan Borysenko, and hundreds of others are exploring the frontiers of the mind-body connection. In new journals like Advances and Alternative Therapies, scholars and thinkers are sharing new ways to understand the miracles of healing. In San Francisco, a cardiologist named Randolph Byrd did a study on the effects of prayers in 393 coronary-care-unit patients. The group was randomly divided into two, half to be prayed for and half not, although neither the patients nor the administrators were told who was in which group. When the study was over, the prayed-for patients did statistically better. Before this study was published, it was rejected by two major medical journals. That's unfortunate, because we need to open ourselves to all possibilities. If Dr. Byrd's article had been about a new drug that caused these kinds of results, it would have been published immediately. Although doctors tend to shy away from metaphysics, science and the spirit don't hare to be at odds. "The most beautiful experience we can have," wrote Einstein, "is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion which stands at the cradle of true art and true science." Long before I met Claire, I began working with people who had serious illnesses. I found that about 15 to 20 percent of these patients, either consciously or unconsciously, wanted to die. Another, much larger group seemed most interested in pleasing the doctor. They took their pills faithfully, showed up for appointments, and generally did whatever the doctors advised unless that advice included a radical change in their lifestyles. The third group, another 15 to 20 percent, consisted of patients whom I call "exceptional." These people refuse to be victims. They educate themselves and become specialists in their own care. They don't hesitate to question their doctors, whom they regard as partners rather than authority figures. The key thing about exceptional patients is that they keep their power. As you'll discover, Claire Sylvia was an exceptional patient although in her case patient may be the wrong word. Patient, after all, implies a submissive sufferer who is willing to undergo whatever is necessary without speaking up or raising a little hell. Exceptional patients don't act that way. They learn from others but they make their own decisions. They reach out and take chances, and if a particular treatment isn't working, they let it go and try something else. Claire knew intuitively what many doctors are only now beginning to understand that physical healing can be significantly helped by opening up the lines of communication between the mind and the body. One way of doing that is through our emotions: working through negative feelings such as hate and jealousy, and embracing positive emotions, such as love, acceptance, and forgiveness. Another way is to visualize the healing process taking place in our bodies, and Claire did that, too. While our minds and our bodies communicate constantly with each other, most of this exchange occurs on an unconscious level. That's why I often advise patients to start recording their dreams, because the body cannot speak except by using symbols. Although dreams can be difficult to understand, Claire shows how important they can be in learning vital information that may not be accessible in other ways. Meditation is another way of communicating with the inner self. Someone once said that prayer is talking, while meditation is listening. Actually, meditation is a way to temporarily stop listening to the pressures and distractions of everyday life in order to be attentive to our deeper thoughts and feelings. The physical benefits of meditation have been well documented by many researchers, including Dr. Herbert Benson, who showed Claire and many others how to meditate. More than most of us, Claire Sylvia has experienced the mysterious. During the course of her exceptional journey, she has been willing to explore her psyche and to confront feelings that many of us repress. I hope you will open both your mind and your heart to her extraordinary story. The Deepest Breath SEVERAL YEARS AGO, as I lay dying from a rare and fatal disease, my chest was sawed open and my heart and lungs were cut out of me. Into that hollow, scooped-out space, in a last ditch effort to save my life, the doctors transplanted the heart and lungs of a young man who had just died in a motorcycle accident. In a sublime act of generosity and grace, his family had agreed to offer up this precious and singular gift to a total stranger. Within hours of their decision, that young man's lungs were breathing in my body, while his heart was pumping my blood with a pace and a vitality I had never known before. When I awoke from the operation and returned to life, I assumed that my long journey was finally over. In fact, it was just beginning. Before long, I began to feel that I had received more than just new body parts. I began to wonder if my transplanted heart and lungs had somehow arrived with some of their own inclinations and memories. I had dreams and experienced changes that seemed to suggest that some aspects of my donor's spirit and personality now existed within me. All my life I have been told that despite the protests of poets and the murmuring of mystics, the human heart is just a pump. An incredibly important pump, but only a pump, a monotonous, mandatory machine. According to this view, which is the accepted one in contemporary Western medicine, the heart contains no feelings and carries no wisdom, no knowledge, and no memories. And if one person's heart has previously resided in another person's body, that fact has no particular meaning or implication. I used to believe these things, but today I know differently. Perhaps there are other ways to think of the heart. Maybe some of the many qualities that have been attributed to the heart over the centuries are more than metaphorical. Even today, in our enlightened, scientific era, we still refer to the heart when we discuss our feelings and our values. When love dies, or death strikes, we speak of being brokenhearted. We take heart and lose heart all the time. When we want to be demonstrative, we wear our heart on our sleeve; when a person is insensitive, we say he is heartless. Pure heart, aching heart, soft heart, valiant heart, noble heart, tender heart, understanding heartthe list goes on. Could there possibly be some literal truth to these expressions? Even the most conservative cardiologist will acknowledge that the health and functioning of the heart are affected by certain emotional realities, including loneliness, depressi...
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