Monday, March 15, 2021

 Monday, March 15, 2021

            I felt great in the late evening. The topics discussed in the Awareness Keys for Exceptional Living workshop didn't add anything to my way of living. However, since I felt much better when I woke up from my nap, I assume it had an impact. I was listening while I was sleeping. The presenter was cheerful, optimistic, and filled with positive intent. All was good. 

            I went to bed a little later than usual, concerned I wouldn't fall asleep, but I did. I slept beautifully until 3. When I woke up, I was again worrying about the situation with the acupuncturist. She does excellent work. I have been thrilled; her only error was last week. 

            She tried to drape my left leg over the side of the table. This is a standard position when working on the psoas. She said she thought it was a psychological problem when I wouldn't release the leg. Well, if I was pulling back to protect the psoas, she might have a point. My psoas was clearly not extended as far as it could be. However, it wasn't my psoas I was protecting; it was some mysterious muscle in my inner thigh that had been wrenched three times already. It had been tight since I went into a lunge without warming up when I was nineteen. I had told her of injuries to my inner thigh. My guess is she thought these were all injuries to my psoas. They weren't.  

            I felt very protective about that thigh muscle, as I should be. It never recovered from the first injury, and then Mike wrenched it. A yoga instructor jerked it shortly after, and finally, the physical therapist I was working with absent-mindedly wrenched it badly enough to do additional damage. Therapists have worked on it, usually leaving me groaning in pain as the aforementioned muscle spasms.

            I've been thinking about the difference between muscle cramps versus spasms. They feel different. A cramp feels like it will resolve if I can stretch it out. It's a muscle bunching up. It responds to a firm massage. A spasm is a creature of a different nature. When a muscle spasms, all you can do is wait it out. 

            I thought of an additional difference: a muscle cramps when you stretch it; it spasms when you stop stretching it. Shortly after my rotator cuff surgery, someone dropped my bag onto my open fingers while I was still wearing a sling, wrenching something. It took over an hour for the spasms to stop.

            My favorite spasm story is the one that occurred after I sat in the waiting room after 45 minutes flat on my back in an MRI machine, waiting to be told the images were okay. Something about my body makes the area over the SI joint particularly sensitive. I had to lie flat for them to get an accurate picture of my hip joint. It hurt so much it was hard to lie still. I had already abandoned one effort to get an image in an MRI machine because of the pain. I was determined to make it through all the way.

            I started toning to deal with the pain without moving; I filled my mind with the noise so I wouldn't register the pain. I had assumed I was in a soundproof room. Not. When I came out, I groaned, and one of the techs snapped, "Oh, shut up." I think they thought I was screaming because I had claustrophobia. Since claustrophobia is a common problem, you would think they would have some training in compassion. Guess not.

            I managed to walk to the waiting room, and then the spasm hit. I was doubled over. It was a full-body spasm. It's a weird feeling. It hurt so much it was almost funny. I'd groan and then make some observations about the pattern of the tiles on the waiting room floor. Mike had a tough time with me groaning. He was usually a compassionate person, but he recalls his mom constantly groaning with back pain on the sofa. I'm not usually a groaner, but it pushed his buttons anyway.

            One of the techs came out to tell me that my MRI was okay and I could leave. Seeing me doubled over and groaning in pain, she said, "Just relax!" She's lucky I didn't rise up a bop her one. What I did say was, "If you don't have anything intelligent to say, why don't you just keep your mouth shut!" She probably thought I was still suffering from claustrophobia.  

            When we knew we could go, Mike said, "Let's go." I got up to walk. I needed to use the handrail on the wall. I had to reach up; I was so bent over. Someone in the waiting room yelled, "Get that woman a wheelchair." Mike, intimidated, did as he was told. It was an event. Believe me, I know the difference between cramps and spasms.

            When my left leg is pulled over the edge of the table, it induces spasms. This does not happen when the leg is pulled out; it happens when it is released. What fun! It was better than it used to be. I think the muscle was ripped off the bone. It is permanently damaged. This is one of the reasons I haven't been willing to get a total hip replacement. I know the problem is not all caused by the lack of cartilage. I have been afraid of what the doctors would do to my body, not considering my spinal curvature and that damaged muscle.

            During the day, I got a text from D's mom saying since the school was on vacation for the week, she was canceling the week's sessions. Then I had J at 11 am. I sent the Zoom invitation, and he didn't respond. When I called him, he said something was going on at his house, and he couldn't do the session. This has happened once before. I worry; is something wrong with one of his parents? Are they fighting? Is there an immigration issue? Is he in danger? I texted him that I hoped it all worked out well, and if he was available later, he should contact me.  

            I went down for a nap and woke up to a text from J saying he was available. I sent a Zoom invitation. We continued working on his reading assignments. He said he is doing them faster with a higher rate of accuracy. I think his problem was a lack of confidence. I'm not doing much right now.

            I had a session with H at 2:15. The work always involves getting him to respond to me appropriately. Sometimes I ask him a question, and he doesn't respond- at all. I remind him that he has to offer me some response. He can say, "Wait a minute. I'm just looking at something." But he has to say something. 

            I also asked H how he felt after doing the spin release last week. He said, good. I asked him if he was able to use it on his own. He said yes. I wondered if it helped him feel better. He said a little. 

            Today, he played with a goose-necked table lamp, calling it a toy. He gave it a name. I think it is unusual for the autistic to be involved in make-believe. I have to check this. During the session, I encouraged him in his play. However, I was concerned about how he was using the lamp. He put a mask and some other objects in direct contact with the bulb. His mother came into view, and I asked her to make it clear to him that he could cause a fire. He responded well when she said no to him. I don't think his mom notices when things go her way, only when they don't. She does this with me too. Pretty unpleasant. She isn't overly critical, just not positive. 

            At four, I had a session with I scheduled. No response. I called her mom. No response. Her mom is a nurse and is often called into work on an emergency basis. I'm not too worried; I'll hear from her eventually. After dinner, I finally got a text from her. Her son had been in a car accident. He was home at that point with a bad concussion. Hopefully, nothing worse.

            Yvette and Scott stopped by. I explained to them what had happened with the gas stovetop. I also talked to Yvette about ripping out trees if we replaced the cesspools with septic tanks. I said that I had put out $1500 to a local engineer to find the cesspools. Scott said he thought the building plans would tell us where there are, and I wouldn't need that guy to stick his camera down a pipe to find them. They are going to the Civic Center tomorrow morning to see if they can get hold of the plans, locate the cesspools, and save me the money. Of course, one septic tank costs in the order of $10,000. They have to be replaced by 2030. Might as well get them done now. Later, everyone will be rushing to get it, and the price will jump sky-high. And as with everything else, I'm figuring I have the money now. Lord knows what is going to happen with the economy. I'm getting everything done now.