Wednesday, May 18, 2011

community

a family friend says, "oh, you must just dread going to physical therapy!" after i tell her a little about the sessions. actually, i really look forward to going. i feel part of a community in the big room where the therapy takes place. in some cases, especially in the case of patients who i meet regularly, i know their names and a little bit about them. i might know things that their friends don't know. i know that B gets through her sessions by biting down on and screaming into a towel and that another woman puts her palms out in front of her and exclaims, "oh LAAAWWWDDD!!" when she has to sit with her knee bent. they have probably come to know things about me that the people i'm closest to don't know. they know, or at least see, who i am when i'm at what feels like the height of my fear and pain, when my spirit is a little crumbled, when i doubt. and they are unlucky enough to witness possibly the ugliest facial expressions i've ever made when the pain comes. some of us laugh together and exchange knowing glances. i derive strength from them. despite all the suffering in the room, it's my healing space. even though i know that i will hurt - my PT recently asked me, "how's your pain tolerance?" and i responded that until i met him, i thought it was high, but now i'm not so sure about that b/c i've never experienced such pain before - it's a hurt that feels safe. my PT asks me to describe the pain and once i do so, once it's shared, i can sit with it with a little more ease. i know i have to move through this pain to heal.

in yoga classes, my teachers would often say, "sit with the pain, be in it, observe how you react to it." it was easy for me to do that then when the pain wasn't bad. now, when the pain is at its worst, i find myself holding my breath, squeezing the table, making the ugly faces - all desperate gestures, attempts to escape. i make the faces even before it hurts or i start "jumping all over the place" as my PT puts it, when he approaches me, anticipating the pain. i put out my hand to stop him from bending my knee further, but instead of stopping, he meets my palm with a high-five. but then i have a moment of calm seemingly spontaneously or b/c my PT reminds me to breathe or b/c i chant a few oms, and i give myself up to the pain, i let go a little bit, and i'm okay. the room itself, with its neon lights and the radio relentlessly streaming ads with often jarring jingles, doesn't generate or inspire a sense of calm or warmth. but in our pain - and for some, i assume the pain has been in their lives for a long time, that the stories of their pain have many layers, that some injuries or disabilities will not totally heal - we create community. in this community and with my PT beside me, i feel supported, guided, protected, and understood. i exhale and i surrender a little more.

3 comments:

  1. And I was groaning and moaning all weekend after a 45-minute session of "boot camp" - I really don't know what real pain is. I hope you're recovering well, Aya! I'm cheering you on from afar!

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  2. thanks so much for the support, ri! by the way, i was partly inspired to start this because of you and your sister's blog!

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  3. That is an excellent description of life as a PT patient. Even months after my PT I sometimes my therapeutic community of moaners and stretchers. I hope you are healing well and I know slowly but surely you'll be easing into your pain in a yoga class again.

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