Wednesday, April 21, 2004
It is my great pleasure to relax, here, this evening...
...contemplate this past-pleasurable day, shake my head, smile...it was an FT appointment day.
I am so pleased the FT allows me to sit in on treatments. I noticed today that as I sit tailor fashion on a magnificently comfortable deep sage green upholstered love seat and watch her work on parts of my mother's body I move and stretch myself in sympathy. I wasn't aware I was doing this until today. The FT slips her arms under my mother's back and gently realigns her spine and I stretch and settle my spine in the same direction. She coaxes my mother's shoulders back into alignment and I jiggle and drop my shoulders. She aligns my mother's pelvis and I wiggle my hips against the cushions. She rolls my mother's feet back and forth and I instinctively extend my leg and roll my foot back and forth to 'crack' it. She triggers my mother's neck and I flex mine. When I realized I was doing this I mentioned it to the FT. She took little note of it so I guess it's not a disturbance to her time with my mother. I took confidence in this consideration and built on it: That maybe what I was doing not only helped me but my mother; that is, everyone in the room capable of being conscious of my mother, including me, and working within the manipulation of energy helped her. That's my 'narrative', anyway.
Again today while the therapist was working a particular area of my mother's back, relaxing and realigning it, my mother was engulfed by a wave of nausea. The FT always rushes to reassure me and my mother when this happens, which I appreciate, as it betrays one of the skills that makes her so effective at what she does. But, I understand exactly the reaction my mother is having, especially since I know exactly what area the FT works on that causes this reaction, what she is doing, and that what she is doing is working "...as it should." To clarify everything, especially for my sisters, it is the acutest point on her upper back that is the apex of her upper spinal hump. The FT showed me, exploratorily, this area. Not only does her spine hump 'unnaturally', it also curves slightly to the right. What the FT is doing is reeducating the various organic structures in this area in order to release the pressure that this structure is causing. Eventually the manipulation should help correct the anomaly. When the FT stimulates this area the physical stress is released in waves, literally, and it is not uncommon for the body to react to both sudden releases and sudden build-ups of stress (when, for instance, your knee pops out) by expressing its surprise in a wave of nausea.
Today, though, Mom didn't vomit. The session dwindled to an amiable end after we retrieved Mom into a sitting position. The FT and I teased Mom about going to any lengths to get out of a trip to Costco today, with which I'd been "threatening" (her word) her since this morning.
I had related to the FT earlier about Mom being buffeted by the wind over the weekend: How it angered her and scared her simultaneously and how the event underscored for me that she certainly needs continued balance therapy. I also told her of an exercise I'd devised after thinking about movements we could practice to help improve her balance. It occurred to me that if I stand Mom up sideways to a wall, and I stand to the other side of her and lean against her gently while she adjusts and pushes against me, using the wall or me as support if she should falter, that this might help her body regain its confidence in its ability to move without landing itself on its back again. I didn't want to initiate the exercise, though, until I described it to the FT and she okayed it.
Indeed, the FT told me that this was a well recognized method of helping people regain a usable sense of balance but that my technique is at this point, "too advanced" for my mother. She showed me through practice how to set up a similar situation with Mom sitting on the couch and me pushing against her and telling her not to let me push her over. The 'trainer' can 'challenge' the body from several positions including diagonally and from above and below (describing the direction of the force applied) and from the front and back. As she practiced these exercises with Mom, she pointed out that Mom displays a significant lag of about 2 seconds when responding to force of any type, which is very typical of someone who's recently lost a challenge to their ability to stand upright. From the peanut gallery it appears as though her body is thinking, "Okay, if I do this, will I succeed, or would it be less harmful for me to give into the force? Which will hurt me the least?"
After the appointment Mom ate a light lunch. She was alert, feeling good, looking so ruddy I decided she doesn't need any more iron pills until she begins to look a little white around the edges, again. I was anxious to get on with the trip to Costco and she was intent on meandering through lunch. She noticed my agitation and told me to go on. I told her that I was concerned that she would lie down and not put on the oxygen, which she needs. She looked at me as if to say, "You have no idea with whom you're dealing." So I proposed a bargain. I laid out the cannula on her pillow, placed her pillow crosswise on her bed so she couldn't miss the juxtaposition, placed a large note underneath the cannula directing her to put it on, turned on the concentrator before I left, had her read the note aloud to me so she'd remember it was waiting for her and told her that if this experiment was successful I would be very encouraged and certainly inclined to pull my nose a bit further out of her ass.
She passed with flying colors. When I returned home an hour and a half later she was snugged in bed with the cannula firmly across her face.
I had told her I would let her sleep as long as she wanted until I started to worry. She awoke of her own accord a few minutes before 1700. I had bought a book for her at Costco that I thought she would find interesting and left it on the table in front of her chair in the dinette. The book, Founding Mothers by Cokie Roberts, was a hit. She settled down and began to read, something that's only been happening again recently. I was so pleased at her reaction to the book and so relieved that she was rediscovering her ability to entertain herself with life that I relaxed more than I have in several days. I lounged on the sofa, decided to "close my eyes for a few minutes", threw a chenille spread over me, immediately magnetized one of our cats into collapsing on my legs for a nap, and the next thing I knew it was 1830. Mom was still at the table deep into the book. She'd drunk a couple of cups of her 'coffee', apparently refilled and warmed in the microwave, something she hasn't had the concentration to do correctly for awhile.
She stuck with the book while I prepared Cobb salads for dinner. She ate and drank and read and occasionally quoted passages from the book to me. After dinner, I headed into the living room to continue a paper sorting/shredding project I began April 15.
An hour or so before she retired I caught her slouching all over herself and the table as she read. I pointed this out to her, reminded her that she was compromising her back and that it was posture like this that got her into trouble in the first place. I continued, "You know Mom," I said, "I don't want you to injure your back again..."
She cut me off, thinking she knew where I was going, "No, I know. Neither do I."
"No Mom," I corrected. "I don't want you to injure your back again because the last five and a half months of the level of care this injury has required has been hell for me. I would do it again if necessary but it's been so intense that I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure it doesn't happen again. This isn't for you, it's for me."
She took a minute to absorb this but within that minute the expression on her face transformed into, "Oh, yeah, I see what you mean." For the rest of the evening she sat properly, supporting her lower back with her pelvic girdle, supporting her upper back with the chair back.
As the evening has unfolded it has begun to occur to me that I may, once again, feel free to allow each of us to have our own unattended time with which to do whatever we want, as in the past. I didn't think I'd be seeing that possibility again throughout the rest of Mom's life.
Earlier today while driving back from Costco it occurred to me that one of the grave disservices we do The Ancient Ones is that, in the broad sense, we expect too little of them. While it is true that it is hard to ignore failing health, failing strength and failing memories, it should be equally hard to ignore indomitable wills and the ability to surprise expectations, even one's own. I have a tendency to prepare ahead of time for the loss of loved ones. It's a handy tool; it educates one in grief before one needs that education. But, I think, it also causes me to surge toward and step back from my mother at inappropriate times. I do not think her ability to recover would surprise me so much if I didn't also harbor the assumption that she is "too old" to heal completely from anything. If I was not capable of being so surprised at the strong continuance of her native regenerative capabilities, I might, in some way, be more readily available to recognize and encourage any healing she might be accomplishing at any time. I know, as well, that I am still scared of trusting her ability to know how important sleep is to her personal recovery profile. I also forget how sensitive she is to suggestion, as evidenced by the fact that it was she who cut her daily pound or two of Hershey's Almond Kisses to nothing, not me.
I've zeroed in on specifically what "dipping into the negative" I was doing to which I was dangerously vulnerable, enough to screw up my ability to address issues and relieve blocked movement patterns. I remembered it early this morning. I remembered this weekend writing out in this journal my occasional Very Tired Fantasy of Mom and I being taken out at the same time. I did spend a certain amount of time this weekend longing for some permanent relief from, well, just everything and from anywhere, I guess, and it translated into me recalling this occasional fantasy. I usually don't 'worry' about fleeting emotional vacations like this because it is their power to relieve internal stress without provoking action that allows them to be so handy for me. Perhaps the acupuncturist sensed that, right now, my ability to heal is at a very low ebb (it is) and it would be best not to challenge it with my peculiar reverse-psychology adaptations that entertain me enough to push me right out of a depressive phase. I've never used the tactic of temporary suppression in healing but I have no objections to it,so I'm trying it. Suppression isn't as difficult as I thought.
Hmmmm. Tomorrow's Thursday. I need to begin calculating and preparing for MCS&BIL's visit. Still working on an impromptu Meeting of the Hudson Mothers. Not sure it will materialize but I'm hopeful.
I didn't make it to the book club meeting last night. I was honest with my Very Dear Prescott Friend about why I wasn't coming. She was disappointed but understanding. It was during this conversation when I was prompted, by her, to reconsider outside day help. I am very lucky in my friends. I needed to verbalize this in order to catalyze it and she gave me the opportunity. Today I even did some preliminary research and discovered that the woman in whom I'm interested as a part time relief caretaker will probably not be available for a couple of weeks, which is okay. With MCS&BIL's visit coming up we've got enough confusion and hilarity scheduled for the next few weeks.
Mmmm...I'm pleasantly tired. Think I'll take advantage of the feeling.
Later.
I am so pleased the FT allows me to sit in on treatments. I noticed today that as I sit tailor fashion on a magnificently comfortable deep sage green upholstered love seat and watch her work on parts of my mother's body I move and stretch myself in sympathy. I wasn't aware I was doing this until today. The FT slips her arms under my mother's back and gently realigns her spine and I stretch and settle my spine in the same direction. She coaxes my mother's shoulders back into alignment and I jiggle and drop my shoulders. She aligns my mother's pelvis and I wiggle my hips against the cushions. She rolls my mother's feet back and forth and I instinctively extend my leg and roll my foot back and forth to 'crack' it. She triggers my mother's neck and I flex mine. When I realized I was doing this I mentioned it to the FT. She took little note of it so I guess it's not a disturbance to her time with my mother. I took confidence in this consideration and built on it: That maybe what I was doing not only helped me but my mother; that is, everyone in the room capable of being conscious of my mother, including me, and working within the manipulation of energy helped her. That's my 'narrative', anyway.
Again today while the therapist was working a particular area of my mother's back, relaxing and realigning it, my mother was engulfed by a wave of nausea. The FT always rushes to reassure me and my mother when this happens, which I appreciate, as it betrays one of the skills that makes her so effective at what she does. But, I understand exactly the reaction my mother is having, especially since I know exactly what area the FT works on that causes this reaction, what she is doing, and that what she is doing is working "...as it should." To clarify everything, especially for my sisters, it is the acutest point on her upper back that is the apex of her upper spinal hump. The FT showed me, exploratorily, this area. Not only does her spine hump 'unnaturally', it also curves slightly to the right. What the FT is doing is reeducating the various organic structures in this area in order to release the pressure that this structure is causing. Eventually the manipulation should help correct the anomaly. When the FT stimulates this area the physical stress is released in waves, literally, and it is not uncommon for the body to react to both sudden releases and sudden build-ups of stress (when, for instance, your knee pops out) by expressing its surprise in a wave of nausea.
Today, though, Mom didn't vomit. The session dwindled to an amiable end after we retrieved Mom into a sitting position. The FT and I teased Mom about going to any lengths to get out of a trip to Costco today, with which I'd been "threatening" (her word) her since this morning.
I had related to the FT earlier about Mom being buffeted by the wind over the weekend: How it angered her and scared her simultaneously and how the event underscored for me that she certainly needs continued balance therapy. I also told her of an exercise I'd devised after thinking about movements we could practice to help improve her balance. It occurred to me that if I stand Mom up sideways to a wall, and I stand to the other side of her and lean against her gently while she adjusts and pushes against me, using the wall or me as support if she should falter, that this might help her body regain its confidence in its ability to move without landing itself on its back again. I didn't want to initiate the exercise, though, until I described it to the FT and she okayed it.
Indeed, the FT told me that this was a well recognized method of helping people regain a usable sense of balance but that my technique is at this point, "too advanced" for my mother. She showed me through practice how to set up a similar situation with Mom sitting on the couch and me pushing against her and telling her not to let me push her over. The 'trainer' can 'challenge' the body from several positions including diagonally and from above and below (describing the direction of the force applied) and from the front and back. As she practiced these exercises with Mom, she pointed out that Mom displays a significant lag of about 2 seconds when responding to force of any type, which is very typical of someone who's recently lost a challenge to their ability to stand upright. From the peanut gallery it appears as though her body is thinking, "Okay, if I do this, will I succeed, or would it be less harmful for me to give into the force? Which will hurt me the least?"
After the appointment Mom ate a light lunch. She was alert, feeling good, looking so ruddy I decided she doesn't need any more iron pills until she begins to look a little white around the edges, again. I was anxious to get on with the trip to Costco and she was intent on meandering through lunch. She noticed my agitation and told me to go on. I told her that I was concerned that she would lie down and not put on the oxygen, which she needs. She looked at me as if to say, "You have no idea with whom you're dealing." So I proposed a bargain. I laid out the cannula on her pillow, placed her pillow crosswise on her bed so she couldn't miss the juxtaposition, placed a large note underneath the cannula directing her to put it on, turned on the concentrator before I left, had her read the note aloud to me so she'd remember it was waiting for her and told her that if this experiment was successful I would be very encouraged and certainly inclined to pull my nose a bit further out of her ass.
She passed with flying colors. When I returned home an hour and a half later she was snugged in bed with the cannula firmly across her face.
I had told her I would let her sleep as long as she wanted until I started to worry. She awoke of her own accord a few minutes before 1700. I had bought a book for her at Costco that I thought she would find interesting and left it on the table in front of her chair in the dinette. The book, Founding Mothers by Cokie Roberts, was a hit. She settled down and began to read, something that's only been happening again recently. I was so pleased at her reaction to the book and so relieved that she was rediscovering her ability to entertain herself with life that I relaxed more than I have in several days. I lounged on the sofa, decided to "close my eyes for a few minutes", threw a chenille spread over me, immediately magnetized one of our cats into collapsing on my legs for a nap, and the next thing I knew it was 1830. Mom was still at the table deep into the book. She'd drunk a couple of cups of her 'coffee', apparently refilled and warmed in the microwave, something she hasn't had the concentration to do correctly for awhile.
She stuck with the book while I prepared Cobb salads for dinner. She ate and drank and read and occasionally quoted passages from the book to me. After dinner, I headed into the living room to continue a paper sorting/shredding project I began April 15.
An hour or so before she retired I caught her slouching all over herself and the table as she read. I pointed this out to her, reminded her that she was compromising her back and that it was posture like this that got her into trouble in the first place. I continued, "You know Mom," I said, "I don't want you to injure your back again..."
She cut me off, thinking she knew where I was going, "No, I know. Neither do I."
"No Mom," I corrected. "I don't want you to injure your back again because the last five and a half months of the level of care this injury has required has been hell for me. I would do it again if necessary but it's been so intense that I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure it doesn't happen again. This isn't for you, it's for me."
She took a minute to absorb this but within that minute the expression on her face transformed into, "Oh, yeah, I see what you mean." For the rest of the evening she sat properly, supporting her lower back with her pelvic girdle, supporting her upper back with the chair back.
As the evening has unfolded it has begun to occur to me that I may, once again, feel free to allow each of us to have our own unattended time with which to do whatever we want, as in the past. I didn't think I'd be seeing that possibility again throughout the rest of Mom's life.
Earlier today while driving back from Costco it occurred to me that one of the grave disservices we do The Ancient Ones is that, in the broad sense, we expect too little of them. While it is true that it is hard to ignore failing health, failing strength and failing memories, it should be equally hard to ignore indomitable wills and the ability to surprise expectations, even one's own. I have a tendency to prepare ahead of time for the loss of loved ones. It's a handy tool; it educates one in grief before one needs that education. But, I think, it also causes me to surge toward and step back from my mother at inappropriate times. I do not think her ability to recover would surprise me so much if I didn't also harbor the assumption that she is "too old" to heal completely from anything. If I was not capable of being so surprised at the strong continuance of her native regenerative capabilities, I might, in some way, be more readily available to recognize and encourage any healing she might be accomplishing at any time. I know, as well, that I am still scared of trusting her ability to know how important sleep is to her personal recovery profile. I also forget how sensitive she is to suggestion, as evidenced by the fact that it was she who cut her daily pound or two of Hershey's Almond Kisses to nothing, not me.
I've zeroed in on specifically what "dipping into the negative" I was doing to which I was dangerously vulnerable, enough to screw up my ability to address issues and relieve blocked movement patterns. I remembered it early this morning. I remembered this weekend writing out in this journal my occasional Very Tired Fantasy of Mom and I being taken out at the same time. I did spend a certain amount of time this weekend longing for some permanent relief from, well, just everything and from anywhere, I guess, and it translated into me recalling this occasional fantasy. I usually don't 'worry' about fleeting emotional vacations like this because it is their power to relieve internal stress without provoking action that allows them to be so handy for me. Perhaps the acupuncturist sensed that, right now, my ability to heal is at a very low ebb (it is) and it would be best not to challenge it with my peculiar reverse-psychology adaptations that entertain me enough to push me right out of a depressive phase. I've never used the tactic of temporary suppression in healing but I have no objections to it,so I'm trying it. Suppression isn't as difficult as I thought.
Hmmmm. Tomorrow's Thursday. I need to begin calculating and preparing for MCS&BIL's visit. Still working on an impromptu Meeting of the Hudson Mothers. Not sure it will materialize but I'm hopeful.
I didn't make it to the book club meeting last night. I was honest with my Very Dear Prescott Friend about why I wasn't coming. She was disappointed but understanding. It was during this conversation when I was prompted, by her, to reconsider outside day help. I am very lucky in my friends. I needed to verbalize this in order to catalyze it and she gave me the opportunity. Today I even did some preliminary research and discovered that the woman in whom I'm interested as a part time relief caretaker will probably not be available for a couple of weeks, which is okay. With MCS&BIL's visit coming up we've got enough confusion and hilarity scheduled for the next few weeks.
Mmmm...I'm pleasantly tired. Think I'll take advantage of the feeling.
Later.
