Richard has been going to gym about twice a week for over a month. It has made a difference but I noticed he was stuck on 3 machines, two machines which work the arms and the bike. Stopped in one day with him, not dressed in gym gear, but had a go on lots of machines and got hi to try a machine which would really open up his chest. (One of the effects of Parkinsons is the closing in, the physical curling up, rounding over of the body. The other day while walking, his arm kept lifting until his fist was in his sternum. That's the position he takes with both arms when at rest. Parkinsons is a disease which requires vigilance and mindfulness - the very things it erodes).
Discussed at length whether I should join or not as I didn't want to cramp his style or intrude in a place that was his own but he was pretty clear. It would be nice if I joined. So I did.
The second time I went with him I got him to try the cross trainer. What a perfect machine for Parkinsons! The first time I realized something was wrong with Richard is when I heard him shuffling on the way to the loo one night. Parkinsons causes shuffling. On the cross trainer one must lift the weight and press down to make it go, even though the foot doesn't actually come off the plate. Took Richard a bit of effort to get it going (there is also the benefit of having both sides of the body/brain exercised).
The follow on effect was noticeable. Our afternoon walk was almost brisk and he walked with more authority in his stride.
I think we're on the right track and it's all due to Wilma who told me about a woman with Parkinsons at her local gym (Wilma is in her 70's) who has been transformed with the help of exercise.
Richard is also getting some muscle tone back. And it won't hurt me either. I don't get any cardio with yoga and walking so getting on the bike or cross trainer and going like the clackers gets my heart rate up without hurting my joints.
I won't make the same mistake as before when I went to the gym by lifting too much and hurting my neck. It's really quite exciting as it will benefit us both while giving us something we can do together. Instead of twice a week I'll try for three times.
Sunday, October 25, 2015
Thursday, October 22, 2015
The Dentist and a Lesson in Spirit
Went back to the dentist because of pain. What a pain! Knew being scared before the visit was in fact enduring it twice but the mind has a mind of its own (so back to meditating with a vengeance to try and tame it!). Then, Oh Joy Oh Happiness, the dentist, after reading the write-up of previous visit, thought it might be better to try non-invasive techniques first. Swelling has gone, as if in answer to reprieve and I can live with the nerve pinging with hot or cold (have had that in other teeth for a long time but this one is somewhat acute).
Part of me stood back and was amazed at the transformation experienced physically, emotionally and mentally with that news. Like someone flicked a switch. Where before I was small and sad and frightened, I was large and light and bright with joy.
When I am frightened the world becomes very small because it is all centered on me and my fear. A pinprick of fear, a pinprick of awareness. What an illustration. What a testament to trying to live big, like an ever expanding balloon of gaiety.
Many years ago I fainted in a theatre during the movie, The Other Side of Midnight, some trashy soap opera whose memorable scene, the attempted (successful? I don't know I was unconscious) abortion in a bathtub with a wire hanger. When I came to I had the profound sensation of being squeezed back into my body. The I that had temporarily vacated the physical was limitless and bore as much relation to my person as a seed is to a sequoia.
Despite returning to this episode repeatedly I forget the significance of it. We are more than our bodies, more than our minds, more than our sensations, more than our pedestrian awareness. I don't know how much more. Not even sure I am equipped to grasp it, nevertheless it should never be forgotten.
Sometimes it takes a trip to the dentist to be reminded.
Part of me stood back and was amazed at the transformation experienced physically, emotionally and mentally with that news. Like someone flicked a switch. Where before I was small and sad and frightened, I was large and light and bright with joy.
When I am frightened the world becomes very small because it is all centered on me and my fear. A pinprick of fear, a pinprick of awareness. What an illustration. What a testament to trying to live big, like an ever expanding balloon of gaiety.
Many years ago I fainted in a theatre during the movie, The Other Side of Midnight, some trashy soap opera whose memorable scene, the attempted (successful? I don't know I was unconscious) abortion in a bathtub with a wire hanger. When I came to I had the profound sensation of being squeezed back into my body. The I that had temporarily vacated the physical was limitless and bore as much relation to my person as a seed is to a sequoia.
Despite returning to this episode repeatedly I forget the significance of it. We are more than our bodies, more than our minds, more than our sensations, more than our pedestrian awareness. I don't know how much more. Not even sure I am equipped to grasp it, nevertheless it should never be forgotten.
Sometimes it takes a trip to the dentist to be reminded.
Monday, October 12, 2015
Needle Phobia - It's Real and It's Not My Fault!
Last week I bit down on a date seed and part of a molar sheared off. I, who go to great lengths to avoid doctors of any kind, had to go to the dentist to get it repaired. The nerve was pinging.
A very nice Indian? woman called coincidentally, Keziah, was my dentist. I felt I was doing okay but did warn her that I had a 'thing with needles'. Bear in mind that I haven't had an injection of any sort for at least 15, maybe 20 years.
It didn't hurt much. She had to inject several sites around the tooth. Nevertheless, I was gutted by my reaction. Tears continuously seeped from my eyes, I felt dizzy and if the chair hadn't been tilted so far back that my head was below my hips, I may have fainted. I couldn't speak. When it was over and the technician indicated that I could rinse out my mouth, my hand shook so much I could hardly pick up the cup
I was ashamed and embarrassed. I will be 60 next month. Why do I have such an infantile reaction to needles? And why is it worse now than ever? (The same reaction goes for gynecological exams. The last one, over 20 years ago, traumatized me so much that I have not had another).
Thank god, Thank God! for Google! Just typed in needle injection phobia (http://www.needlephobia.com/) and found I am not an immature freak. I haven't finished reading it yet because I am crying, partly in recognition, partly in relief, and partly because I can forgive myself.
It seems I have two types of needle phobias.
The first type is..." the vasovagal reflex reaction. In ordinary language, they faint (or nearly faint) and occasionally go into convulsions before, during or after a needle procedure. It is a part of what is known as blood-injury-injection phobia. This is a purely biological reaction, probably genetic, and is completely distinct from all other kinds of phobia. It is usually triggered, initially at least, by the sensation (which is not necessarily painful) of a needle entering the body. (That's what I told the dentist, when I could speak again. It wasn't the pain, it was being punctured).
2. The second type of needle phobia is the classic phobia. This results from a early traumatic experience during a medical needle procedure. In the case of needle phobia, it is usually a medical event that occurs between the ages of roughly 3 and 6 years. Due to the carelessness and general thoughtlessness of medical professionals toward young children, this type of needle phobic has recently been rising at an astronomical rate. It has overtaken the first type in number of cases, and it now far exceeds vasovagal needle phobia. The recent explosion in the percentage of the population with this type of needle phobia, as documented in a number of medical studies, is an indication that the medical profession is doing something very wrong in the way that it deals with young children, and that this situation has gotten considerably worse in recent years.
3. There is a sub-type of the "classic phobia" that some people have separated out as a separate type. That is the combative/resistive type of needle phobia. Some otherwise tranquil people can become quite combative with medical personnel when facing a needle procedure. This probably results from the all-too-common practice of one or more large adults holding down a small child, often using great force, during needle procedures in childhood."
I don't have the third sub-type of the classic phobia as I don't become violent but I remember clearly, on more than one occasion, trying to outrun teachers and nurses, being cornered and forcibly given an injection when I was a child, the last instance was when I was in 5th grade. My reputation was such that I was always left until last and all the other children were out of the room.
I think I ran and fought because I always fainted and losing consciousness and the sensations experienced prior to losing consciousness were so frightening. That poor little girl. And I was always made to feel ashamed and BAD because of hating injections so much.
Interestingly, "Vasovagal needle phobia is a genetic trait that had survival value for humans prior to the 20th century. Before modern medicine, an individual with an inordinate fear of being stuck with a fang, a thorn or a knife was less likely to die in accidents or in encounters with hostile animals or men. Prior to the 20th century, even an otherwise non-fatal puncture wound had a reasonable chance of causing a fatal infection. This trait that had positive survival value prior to the 20th century now has a negative survival value since it shuts its victims off from many of the benefits of 21st-century medicine."
Hence, my choice of words, 'being punctured'. Having the protective layer, my skin, breached. It is such a strong image, keeping my skin inviolate and now I begin to understand why. So I could ask for: topical anesthesia... to totally eliminate the sensation of being stuck by a needle. It is necessary to temporarily block the site of the needle procedure from sending the needle puncture signals to the brain."
One strategy I employed when I had to have a needle before I could travel to PNG was to pay for the injection first, get all the paperwork out of the way, and warn the staff that after the injection I would be sprinting out of the building. I got the shot in the fat pad above my hip, pulled my shorts over the site and bolted. This was in Cairns. I power walked until I knew I would not faint. It took a while.
Part of the shame of fainting is wetting myself while unconscious and when I wake up having to go to the toilet NOW. For a number two. It seems part and parcel of the same thing I notice when my horse Balthazar is upset. When he's anxious he poops and keeps pooping until there's nothing left to poop. Does he do this so he can run? Is it the same reason for me? I may have a veneer of civilization sitting atop this mammalian/reptilian brain but I'm still just a critter in the hostile jungle at heart.
I also have a phobia about gynecological examinations, hearing or reading about detailed women 'stuff' so much so that when i googled the site - and there is one, I couldn't read it.
Another day, another blog.
A very nice Indian? woman called coincidentally, Keziah, was my dentist. I felt I was doing okay but did warn her that I had a 'thing with needles'. Bear in mind that I haven't had an injection of any sort for at least 15, maybe 20 years.
It didn't hurt much. She had to inject several sites around the tooth. Nevertheless, I was gutted by my reaction. Tears continuously seeped from my eyes, I felt dizzy and if the chair hadn't been tilted so far back that my head was below my hips, I may have fainted. I couldn't speak. When it was over and the technician indicated that I could rinse out my mouth, my hand shook so much I could hardly pick up the cup
I was ashamed and embarrassed. I will be 60 next month. Why do I have such an infantile reaction to needles? And why is it worse now than ever? (The same reaction goes for gynecological exams. The last one, over 20 years ago, traumatized me so much that I have not had another).
Thank god, Thank God! for Google! Just typed in needle injection phobia (http://www.needlephobia.com/) and found I am not an immature freak. I haven't finished reading it yet because I am crying, partly in recognition, partly in relief, and partly because I can forgive myself.
It seems I have two types of needle phobias.
The first type is..." the vasovagal reflex reaction. In ordinary language, they faint (or nearly faint) and occasionally go into convulsions before, during or after a needle procedure. It is a part of what is known as blood-injury-injection phobia. This is a purely biological reaction, probably genetic, and is completely distinct from all other kinds of phobia. It is usually triggered, initially at least, by the sensation (which is not necessarily painful) of a needle entering the body. (That's what I told the dentist, when I could speak again. It wasn't the pain, it was being punctured).
2. The second type of needle phobia is the classic phobia. This results from a early traumatic experience during a medical needle procedure. In the case of needle phobia, it is usually a medical event that occurs between the ages of roughly 3 and 6 years. Due to the carelessness and general thoughtlessness of medical professionals toward young children, this type of needle phobic has recently been rising at an astronomical rate. It has overtaken the first type in number of cases, and it now far exceeds vasovagal needle phobia. The recent explosion in the percentage of the population with this type of needle phobia, as documented in a number of medical studies, is an indication that the medical profession is doing something very wrong in the way that it deals with young children, and that this situation has gotten considerably worse in recent years.
3. There is a sub-type of the "classic phobia" that some people have separated out as a separate type. That is the combative/resistive type of needle phobia. Some otherwise tranquil people can become quite combative with medical personnel when facing a needle procedure. This probably results from the all-too-common practice of one or more large adults holding down a small child, often using great force, during needle procedures in childhood."
I don't have the third sub-type of the classic phobia as I don't become violent but I remember clearly, on more than one occasion, trying to outrun teachers and nurses, being cornered and forcibly given an injection when I was a child, the last instance was when I was in 5th grade. My reputation was such that I was always left until last and all the other children were out of the room.
I think I ran and fought because I always fainted and losing consciousness and the sensations experienced prior to losing consciousness were so frightening. That poor little girl. And I was always made to feel ashamed and BAD because of hating injections so much.
Interestingly, "Vasovagal needle phobia is a genetic trait that had survival value for humans prior to the 20th century. Before modern medicine, an individual with an inordinate fear of being stuck with a fang, a thorn or a knife was less likely to die in accidents or in encounters with hostile animals or men. Prior to the 20th century, even an otherwise non-fatal puncture wound had a reasonable chance of causing a fatal infection. This trait that had positive survival value prior to the 20th century now has a negative survival value since it shuts its victims off from many of the benefits of 21st-century medicine."
Hence, my choice of words, 'being punctured'. Having the protective layer, my skin, breached. It is such a strong image, keeping my skin inviolate and now I begin to understand why. So I could ask for: topical anesthesia... to totally eliminate the sensation of being stuck by a needle. It is necessary to temporarily block the site of the needle procedure from sending the needle puncture signals to the brain."
One strategy I employed when I had to have a needle before I could travel to PNG was to pay for the injection first, get all the paperwork out of the way, and warn the staff that after the injection I would be sprinting out of the building. I got the shot in the fat pad above my hip, pulled my shorts over the site and bolted. This was in Cairns. I power walked until I knew I would not faint. It took a while.
Part of the shame of fainting is wetting myself while unconscious and when I wake up having to go to the toilet NOW. For a number two. It seems part and parcel of the same thing I notice when my horse Balthazar is upset. When he's anxious he poops and keeps pooping until there's nothing left to poop. Does he do this so he can run? Is it the same reason for me? I may have a veneer of civilization sitting atop this mammalian/reptilian brain but I'm still just a critter in the hostile jungle at heart.
I also have a phobia about gynecological examinations, hearing or reading about detailed women 'stuff' so much so that when i googled the site - and there is one, I couldn't read it.
Another day, another blog.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)