a “new” old me…

Following up on my previous post nurturing thursdays: relief…myofascia release, I must admit to feeling pretty darn good this morning. 

Normally I awake with my body already aching as though I’d been lugging myself around for several hours. 

This morning I’m standing here at the kitchen counter as though I’d been given the proverbial “new lease on life.” And to show you that the “proof is in the pudding,” I could actually bend down to pet my 3 cats and one dog without flinching as I did so.

My pets got the benefit of some me and them time. Me cooing sweet nothings into their furry, little ears; them lapping up every morsel of mommy murmurings dropping from my mouth.

Even hubby reaped the benefit of yesterday’s rejuvenating rubdown…without having to undergo it himself.

I slid out from under the bed covers, sashayed down the hallway to the kitchen, and fixed him an egg sandwich, replete with a nicely done, fried egg, a couple of lightly sauteed ham slices, with slivers of cheese sandwiched between so that they’d melt. To complete the morning feast, I sliced a couple of large, juicy strawberries for hubby to nibble upon. Hot green tea with slivers of fresh ginger finished off my king’s 6:30 a.m. meal.

I sent happy hubby on his way, and after I publish this piece I’ll return to my comfy nest of sheets and quilts to catch 40 more winks.

The moral of this little story?

…go get a massage! pronto!

………hugmamma.

 

nurturing thursdays: relief…fascia release

Just returned from having a massage. Actually, it felt more like my body was stretched to the max.

Not on the rack, mind you. No, no. This is 2013, after all.

Jennifer Soames Bodywork Maple ValleyJennifer Soames of Instride Bodywork at http://www.instridebodywork.com, worked on my body’s faschia. It’s inability to perform as usual has probably been at the root of my recent health issues.

As Jennifer explained it, the faschia is like saran wrap that encases our entire skeleton, not only on the outside but throughout all the nooks and crannies as well.

Imagine then what happens when saran wrap clings to itself. Pulling it apart is difficult at best. More than likely, it’s impossible.

Tossing out useless saran wrap is one thing. We don’t have that option when our faschia becomes stuck.

Most, if not all of us, live with stuck faschia. Over time our movements become restricted. And with restriction comes discomfort which eventually dissolves into pain. Chronic pain, to be exact. And that’s what makes fibromyalgia unbearable.

Chronic pain. And the accompanying fatigue from having to move when the faschia’s constriction doesn’t allow for normal movement.

I imagine old age is hurried along by faschia that’s become stuck…everywhere.

Picture dad, once tall and erect, vital and hardy…barely able to go the distance and cranky as hell. Then there’s mom, usually bubbly, and into everyone’s business (in a good way, of course)…stuck in neutral and wondering where the day went.

Humorous to imagine. Not so funny when you’re the one suffering…for days, weeks, months, even years on end.

After one hour with Jennifer today, I could raise both arms to their full length. Rotating them at my sides in ever-widening circles, I was giddy with delight. Just a few days ago, I could barely do half-circles without feeling like my shoulders would snap.

Between massaging each arm, Jennifer would have me get up and walk around. She asked if I noticed anything different.

Heck, yeah!

The arm that had been worked on felt longer, looser. In short, it felt as though my arm had been reset. It’s as though I’d gone in to a body shop for repairs, and left with a totally new limb. By comparison the arm still needing work seemed compacted, jambed into place, unable to extend.

In the remaining minutes Jennifer massaged my neck, upper back and a bit of my lower back.

The session ended with a massage to my spine while I arched slowly forward as though I were bending over a beach ball.

I left feeling as though Jennifer had rolled me out like homemade bread dough. Under her careful kneading, my body continued to spread. I was able to rise fully, walking tall as I exited her office.

Excited with the results, I enrolled in Jennifer’s 3 session program, each one lasting an hour-and-a-half instead of the usual one hour. My first appointment is the week after Thanksgiving, and the remaining two appointments will follow one week apart. Upon completion I’m certain I will feel like a woman reborn.

I’m a staunch believer in alternative medicine…chiropractic, naturoapathy, massage therapy. Perhaps one day I’ll take on acupuncture.

Our aging bodies can’t keep doing for us without us doing for them. They need maintenance. Diet and exercise are only the beginning. Proper realignment is essential to make sure all the moving parts keep working.

We do as much for our automobiles. Why not for the “machines” we shove through the meat-grinder, day in and day out.

Folks who are non-believers, as I once was, probably feel chiropractic manipulation and therapeutic massage are money pits. My daughter convinced me otherwise. Since her body is pivotal to her career, she feels both are mandatory to her longevity as a dancer.

So it makes sense to enlist whatever help I can to keep my body in mojo mode. I’d like to do my job as a wife, mom, and whatever other “hat” I’m wearing on any given day for as long as I’m able.

My mom, a young widow with numerous mouths to feed referred to our automobile as the family’s “bread and butter.” On weekends we gathered around the Dodge to give it a wash and a wax. Keeping it in tip top shape meant my mom could keep a roof over our heads and food on the table. With the help of her trusty companion, my mom traveled to and from her job at a Catholic orphanage an hour’s drive away.

Your body is your “bread and butter.” Take care of it…and it’ll take care of you. Its as good as having a lifetime warranty.

Visit Jennifer’s website for expert information. I can only offer layman-speak. But if you’re like me and want someone you know and trust to make a referral, then…

…go get a massage…for your faschia, if possible…

…i highly recommend it!………hugmamma.

KMI back work

KMI back work (Photo credit: Dreaming in the deep south)

for a mom, good therapy

Am still thinking about my daughter’s difficult circumstances to do with her broken hand. I’m sure moms can relate to the feeling of total inability to do anthing, except offer support and encouragement. If I could let her have the use of my right hand, I would. That’s a no-brainer. But it’s her hand, her life, her experience, her emotional growth and maturation.

Rather than worry about my daughter who’s beginning her journey back to recovery, I decided to devote some thought to two other young ladies, one whom I just saw today, and another whose story I read in our local newspaper.

Jennifer, my 28-year-old massage therapist, is an old soul. After seeing her for over 2 years for various aches and pains, mostly chronic fibromyalgia, I’ve come to trust her very capable hands. Her petite 5 foot stature belies the strength she brings to her massages. But as with most practitioners of alternative health, Jennifer is good therapy for my spirit as well.

In the hour we’re together, we cover many subjects of interest to both of us. They all fit under the umbrella of life lessons, it seems. Funny that she in her 20s, and me in my 60s can find so much common ground. I think it’s because she puts great stock in old-fashioned values, like working hard to achieve her goals, and prioritizing her life around her family’s health, including growing her own produce, and her love of animals, including caring for horses in her spare time. 

Cover of

Cover of The Permanent Pain Cure

At the moment, Jennifer is also working towards her certification in becoming a myofascia-release specialist. It is a form of therapy which involves the patient in the massage process. I am a firm believer in this alternative health practice after my daughter’s strained groin muscle was cured at the hands of a New York physical therapist trained in myofascia release. Ming Chu wrote The Permanent Pain Cure, which I’d read hoping it would provide the relief my daughter needed, and it did. Or rather, Chu did. 

After spending thousands of dollars toward her certification, and many hours of studying, which also includes hands-on work, Jennifer will be ble to give her clients an even higher level of relief from pain. Anticipating doing this, has her so excited. But for now she’s focused on the training that still lies ahead…an uphill climb, I’m sure she can tackle.

North Campus, Brigham Young University

Image via Wikipedia

Two things struck me as relevant about the story of Rachelle Dotson. The 21-year-old is the only female from North America serving as a Mormon missionary. She requested a mission after graduating from Brigham Young University in 2008. Having studied Japanese in high school, Rachelle was sent to Japan, and was stationed 12 miles north of Sendai when the earthquake hit.

Rachelle reminded me of 3 nephews, Mormons, who served as missionaries when they completed high school. The eldest, James, spent a couple of years in Costa Rica; Tyler was in Mexico the same length of time, and the youngest, Logan, did his mission in Mongolia. I am in awe of these young people who dedicate their lives to serving others for a period of time. They don’t proselytize about their faith. They live alongside the village people doing whatever they can, and demonstrating their Christianity by example. I can imagine my sister and brother-in-law’s concern for their sons while they were away from their family. They did not, however, suffer the anxiety that befell Rachelle’s parents as they waited to learn their daughter’s fate following Japan’s natural disaster.

Kelli and Robert Dotson watched their TV in horror as events in Japan unfolded before their eyes. I can only imagine what ran through their minds. I know I would’ve been a basket case. So I was moved to read that as an after-thought, Kelli wished she’d gotten an address when her daughter had sent a brief message the week before indicating she had settled in after moving from Koriyama to Sendai. All they could do now was wait for news from Rachelle, which took 2 days to arrive.

“I’m well,” her note began, comforting her family. She then recounted her experience.

She and her companion (a girl from Tahiti) were riding their bikes when they heard the earthquake. Dismounting, the earth then shook beneath them.

“Cars beside us were bouncing and the canal on the other side was sloshing 10 feet,” she wrote. She and her companion “crawled into a field, hugged eath other and prayed.”

 

Japan Earthquake & Tsunami Damage (03RTR2JTXC)

Image by Kordian via Flickr

Waiting for further information, however, was agonizing for the Dotsons. Thoughts of her daughter suffering were especially difficult for Kelli, “until she was inspired by memories of Rachelle on her fourth-year girls’ hike.” They brought peace and comfort to her mom remembering how her daughter had “carried her 40-pound pack on her back, and her partner’s on her front, so that they could continue on without rest breaks.” Kelli realized that Rachelle “was a strong woman–physically, emotionally and spiritually,” and that she would not be a victim, but would be helping the victims instead.

Evidently Rachelle had grown very fond of the Japanese elderly, loving them as family. So she was understandably distraught at not being able to reach her dear friends, and remain to care for those in need. Although the missionaries have been evacuated from the area, Rachelle continues her work in Japan, not scheduled to return home until December 22. Meanwhile, she assures her parents she wants for nothing. But she has learned one thing as the result of her experience.

“She carries a lot of food and water with her wherever she goes…and has a bag packed of clothes ready to go at any moment.”

Rachelle told her mother she knows it’s not necessary, but she can’t help it.

So when I think of my daughter and her misfortunes, I’m reminded of others like her who are wending their way through life, with their own challenges. They’re all learning, and growing, and gathering life experiences that will serve them as they grow older…and wiser. That brings me some measure of serenity.

in the eye of the hurricane…calm…hugmamma.

 

massage “therapy”

I’ve had an unusual last 6 months, with allergies and fibromyalgia taking its toll throughout the spring season. Luckily it was after I’d tended to my garden, preparing the beds for the growing season, weeding and laying bait to minimize the slug infestation. Summer was a busy time with travels to Venice, Italy and Irvine, California. And during the last couple of months I’ve criss-crossed the country to be with my daughter. So it was with great anticipation that I saw my massage therapist,  yesterday.

Under Jennifer’s very capable hands, I felt the knots in my neck and shoulder muscles begin to loosen and relax. I winced in pain when she worked one particular spot in the crook of my right neck area. I’d never done that before, so I knew I’d been in desperate need of a massage.

An “old soul” at 27 years of age, Jennifer is not only good for my aches and pains, but is also someone with whom I commisserate on just about everything. Like the rest of us, she has had to sort out her life. Married, with her own business, I think my massage therapist, and friend, should be congratulated for “making lemonade, out of lemons.”  

Jennifer is such a home body. Having had a bountiful garden this year, she’s been busy canning sugar pumpkins, and making apple butter and blackberry jam, and turning squash into homemade soup. And she was understandably proud of harvesting 20 ears of corn, for neither the deer nor the raccoons had ravaged the stalks. Contributing to their winter stockpile, Jennifer’s husband will soon be hunting elk with friends. She indicated that at least 500 pounds of meat can be had from one animal.

I’m amazed at the thrift and frugality in such a young couple. And yet it doesn’t seem to be founded only upon economic concerns. Jennifer chooses to live a simpler life in terms of material acquisitions. Her passions lie elsewhere, a horse with which she is training, and a determination to become a licensed practitioner of myofacscial-release. These do not come cheap. But they are meaningful and fulfilling goals, for which Jennifer is willing to make sacrifices.

While my body is grateful for my massage therapist’s skill, my soul is graced by her youthful wisdom.

for Jennifer, hugs…hugmamma.