Month: September 2016

So, once on the table, Nick had me lay on my stomach.  He bent my foot back to my butt and told me to, “Kick!” Once I kicked my foot so my leg was mostly straight, he pushed my foot back to my butt and would yell, “Kick!” again.  We did these motions in quick succession and after a few, “Kick!”s it changed to Nick saying, “Kit!”  I knew what he meant so I continued kicking and thought about my Dad.  And two of my brothers.  My Dad was in the army.  His basic training was in the south before he went to Vietnam and he and my Mother lived in Oklahoma after they were married while my Dad still had time to serve once his tours were over.

I write about this because at one time, I worked with two of my brothers.  One was the vice principal and one was the behavior interventionist.  Both of these roles called for them to address and correct student behavior.  This address was usually at a high volume be it in the cafeteria or in the hallways.  When either of them raised their voice it sounded especially like my Dad.  It wasn’t until another teacher asked one of my brothers when they lived in the south.  My brother (neither one) has never lived in the south.  The teacher told them that when they raised their voice, they got a southern twang.  I laughed when my brother told me this because they BOTH did it and I guess that’s because my Dad did it to them when giving directives when they were growing up and my Dad’s directives when he was in the army came from a southern man.  Now, Nick’s, “Kit’s” sound just the slightest bit southern and I thought of this story of my brothers and my Dad.

Nick had me roll onto my back and he was having a heck of a time bending my legs.  He was working SO hard!  I could see it in his face.  I always feel badly hearing his grunts and seeing him sweat and the look on his face because there is nothing I can do to make it easier for him.  I try to, “will” my legs to bend but it is no use.  They only loosen after he has exerted SO MUCH energy and after more than a few grunts.

So, I’m just laying on my back as Nick is working SO hard and an intern I have never seen before walks by.  It took me awhile to figure out why I felt funny looking at this kid, until I realized that he reminded me of Phil!  I think it was because he’s tall.  I asked Nick who he was and he told me that his name was Michael.  I told Nick that he reminded me of Adam (I know not refer to Adam as “Phil” to anyone at Barwis because I was the ONLY one to call him “Phil” and that was SOOO long ago now).  Nick agreed and said he kind of looked like him.

I wasn’t sure if he looked like Phil.  I still haven’t decided.  I laid on the table and tried to decide.  It took me a minute to figure out why he kept glancing over at me.  It’s because I was straight up staring at him with my thinking face on.  The damage was already done before I realized this; I’m creepy.  But there was already a (or I already called someone) “Michael” at Barwis.  And that was Mike Rhoades (even though he didn’t like me doing so).

This was my first day with students for the 2016-17 school year.  It’s my 12th year teaching so I’m used to the “First Day of School” hype but I was tired!  Exhausted even!  I think Nick could sence it so he helped me onto the table immediately when I stood from my chair.  I laid back and Nick stretched me out and I did some PNFs.  The stretching and the PNFs made me even more tired and I started to, “glisten.”

It didn’t take very long for this, “glistening” to turn in to all-out sweating.  Like A LOT!  I put my nose in my shirt collar and wiped it off just as I felt the sweat changing from, “glisten” to sweat and then I constantly had to wipe the bridge of my nose as I felt sweat beading on my forehead and the roots of my hair became damp.  As Nick was working, he glanced over to me and commented that I was really sweating and I agreed.

I thought back to conversations I had with Parker years ago.  He told me that tears and sweat were two forms of the body’s natural way of cleansing itself.  I always think of that when I am a sissy, cry-face baby and cry.  Sweating doesn’t come very easily to me anymore so I welcome it more now.  It makes me feel that I’m working REALLY hard and something athletic.  It feels good and I hear Parker telling me that it’s a good thing; that it’s a cleanse so I continued to wipe the bridge of my nose in my shirt and thought of Parker with fondness.  I miss him.

I continued to “cleanse” but my legs loosened up really nicely.  I got into my car easily because my legs were so relaxed and I closed my eyes IMMEDIATELY!  My Mom made a comment as we were backing out of the space behind Barwis about me being a, “Sleeping Princess.”  I slept the entire way home until I was in my driveway with the exception of this moment, when the car had backed up enough to change direction and head left out of the parking lot.

I opened my eyes for the briefest of moments where I could see the dumpster as the car changed directions.  I thought of Phil.  I thought of Mike Rhoades.  The thoughts of them forced me to open my eyes.  Just like I corrected both of them, I had to open my eyes and interrupt my sleep and correct my Mother.  I just needed to set her straight, state a fact before I went back to sleep.  Just like I told Phil and Michael, I simply stated before closing my eyes again; “I am a queen.”

My son ran track and threw shot put in grade school.  He started in 4th grade and continued on through 8th grade.  I’m not sure what he will do in high school but I enjoyed being a “track mom.” The coach used to email the parents with a list of times and distances for the previous meet.  He would highlight all PRs for the kids.  I learned that PR meant, “Personal Record.”  I thought about this fact this past weekend after I went to Barwis on Thursday.

I got to Barwis a bit early and watched Deeds, Mike Morfitt, and Landis stretch out their clients enviously.  I can’t really remember my body moving normally anymore… Nick came over and after he wiped the table down, helped me to stand up.  I felt sturdy and stood for a little while.  Mike Morfitt helped adjust my feet so I could stand longer.  I sat on the table to rest and Nick told me that we would work on that today.  After I rested awhile, I stood again.  Nick asked Megan to put the timer on but there was some miscommunication so I stood without it.

As I was standing, I looked over to the squat machine where I used to work with Phil and remembered, “Standing for days!”  I sat and rested again and then stood two more times.  Once for 1:11 and lastly for 1:13.   After my last stand, Nick couldn’t find the rolling stick so he used a softball to press on my calves.  It did the trick, it felt extremely similar to the rolling stick on both of my calves.

Then he found the stick, rolled my legs out a bit, and stretched my legs out.  It was like the stretching I saw, I’ve seen, but it’s just a little modified because my body doesn’t move normally.  It felt good and it relaxed me.  I thought about my previous stands – I know I wrote about these stands before and thought about re-reading them.  I didn’t.  If I remember correctly, they were longer than my most recent 1:11 and 1:13 and I’m choosing to embrace and celebrate my new PR instead of lamenting over what I used to be able to do.

I thought about what I used to be able to do.  When I was first diagnosed,  I remember playing basketball in my son’s dad’s yard and I noticed it was a little difficult.  I thought about the fact that my memories of being able-bodied have changed over the years, from being on the elliptical machine up to an hour daily to now I think of just being able to dust my furniture on my own.  My physical abilities have diminished over the years and it seems my memories of my physical abilities have gotten smaller over the years as well.  I used to be able to walk and I used to be able to stand effortlessly 15 1/2 years ago and I KNOW that I have stood longer at Barwis even but for now, I am choosing to celebrate my new PR even though I look forward to it getting longer.

I got to Barwis a bit early and just waited around by the tables for Nick.  When he came over, he helped me to stand to transfer but when he did that, for a moment, I felt sturdy and sure; it felt like standing was effortless. He felt it too and had me continue to stand.  I was reminded of back when I used to work with Phil and would tell him that I could, “stand for days!”  This was how I felt at that moment, but my waist bent and my butt stuck out and that standing for days didn’t feel like an option, standing for moments seemed improbable.

Nick pulled the right side of my butt toward him with a couple of his fingers and my butt was back under me but I kept teetering between, “standing for days” and just barely being able to remain upright.  My legs began to shake.  Nick and Megan both saw this and began yelling encouragements to get me to continue to stand and, “not let my butt hit the table.”  I gritted my teeth and tried my hardest.  Just before I finally was forced to sit, I rested my forehead on Nick’s “muscle boob.”

All the guys at a at Barwis have “muscle bobs.”  I remember resting my forehead on many of their boobs out of sheer exhaustion when they’d help me to stand.  Phil and Mike Morfitt stand out but I’m sure I rested my head on Jesse and Mike Rhoades.  Everyone at Barwis is in optimal physical shape!  Megan laughed and made a comment but understood how exhausted I was.  As Nick and Megan were yelling, Luba came over to talk to Megan.

Once I was seated, Luba asked me what was going on.  I laughed and told her that I was standing for like 10 years.  She said that it sounded CRAZY! (All the yelling).  I know I didn’t stand for 10 years, it may have only been 10 seconds but at least I was able to stand. Once on the table, I laid on my stomach and Nick started rolling my legs out.

I’ve always thought of  him rolling some kind of dough out, nice and flat.  I’ve pictured me as sugar cookie dough being rolled out nice and smooth, getting prepared to be cut into some cute shape.  But this time, he rolled me deeper and pushed the stick harder.  It felt good by all means but instead of sugar cookie dough, I pictured a tough ethnic woman rolling the dough into something more functional like biscuits or pasta.

After Nick was done rolling the backs of my legs and butt, he told me that we would, “Kick and Pull” meaning that I would do the “multiple muscle group PNFs” again and kick my leg out (foot toward the table) and immediately pull my foot to my butt once that motion was complete.  I thought back to my young years competitively swimming in the summers growing up.  I’ve talked about Mr. Bill (whom I LOVE) but Mr. Seitz was also my coach.

He used to talk out of the side of his mouth when he was addressing us swimmers in the pool.  I guess to project his voice but I remember when he taught us the breaststroke and showed us the stroke with both arms on lg standing by the pool.  He told us to, “Pull, kick, and glide.”  He told us this often while teaching us the stroke.  Even the words were unversed, I thought of him with fondness. I always smile when I thin of these two men!

After I completed some of these PNFs, I rolled over and Nick rolled the fronts, insides, and outsides of my thighs.  I was tired but my legs felt good and loose.  My mom easily got me into my car and she thanked Nick for the work he does with me.  I involuntarily dozed on the ride home.  When I woke up before we got to my house, my legs felt SO good!