Hip Replacement Missionary?

I just had a very strange experience. I was walking through a parking lot from the bank to my car, and a woman in her mid-thirties stopped me to ask me a question.

"Excuse me, but do you mind if I ask you a question about your gait?"

The only people who use the word "gait" on a regular basis are physical therapists, orthopedic doctors, and horseback riders. Everyone else just asks about my limp or the way I walk. This seemed intriguing.

"Sure."
"Did you have a hip replacement?"
"No..."
"Do you have hip dysplasia?"
"Yes..." (thinking: how does she know that?!)
"I used to have a gait just like yours. I had hip dysplasia and congenital [something I haven't heard of before and don't remember], and I got a hip replacement. It was the best decision I ever made."

She goes on for a bit about how self-conscious she had been of her limp (only hers was "100 times worse" than mine), back pain, etc. I mention that I'm avoiding having anymore surgery. She knows all about how that goes, but encourages me anyway. This is sounding more and more like someone trying to sell me something. Apparently a place called the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota is the spot to get a hip replacement done.

She eventually finishes. "Don't wait too long like I did!" We part ways.

She was so convinced that her solution was the best solution that I actually didn't get a chance to tell her that I'm not self-conscious about my walk, I'm rarely in pain, and I have a relatively healthy hip socket, despite my gait, and that I've found other ways to help myself get through life without another surgery. She only seemed interested in selling me a Mayo Clinic hip replacement surgery, and probably wouldn't really have listened if I had told her all of that. I'm very glad she's happy, but, well... Thanks but no thanks.

Life and Bikes

I'm posting for the first time from my new apartment! In case you missed it, I'm moving from Lower Queen Anne to West Green Lake. I still only have a few things in the new place, but it's enough that I can sleep here and spend some time here without having to sit on the floor. I'll be completely moved in within the next couple of weeks.

I think living by Green Lake is going to be really good for me. My apartment is a block and a half from the lake, so I have NO excuse about not going for walks there. I took my first walk today (somehow I'd never taken a walk around the lake before - stupid me), and it's BEAUTIFUL. Maybe that's just because today is also a sunny, lovely spring day, but no, I think Green Lake is just inherently beautiful. I'm so excited to be living here.

Living by the lake is also physically inspiring for me. It's really fun watching all the bikers, roller skaters, scooterers, runners, and walkers, and it makes me want to join them. A few days ago my mom told me that she had a dream about watching me ride a bike with my hair blowing behind me in the wind (I think I had longer hair in the dream). Watching the bikers at Green Lake after hearing about that dream makes me want to bike again.

The last time I rode a bike was late in high school in an attempt to learn how to ride again after my 5th grade surgery and recovery. I never got the hang of it again. The phrase "Once you know how to ride a bike you'll never forget" does not ring true for me. I was always terrified of falling, and did fall hard a few times. It still scares me when I think about it. On the other hand, the image from Mom's dream is a very tempting one. I remember biking when I was little and loving it. Juggling the two reactions is really confusing. Probably the hardest part aside from dealing with the fear of falling is the embarrassment of not being able to ride a bike. Everyone I know bikes. If I were to learn again, I'd have no idea where to start...

Development

A major theme in our training is early child development. Each piece of movement that we re-learn is designed to take us back through our own development. We started with our mouths on day one, then moved on to our eyes, our head, our hands, rolling, rolling to sitting, etc. That makes teaching preschool while being in training really fun. It means I get to watch bored kids on their mats still awake during nap time doing EXACTLY the same things we do in class. For example, a very common bored-on-your-mat trick is to get on your hands and knees, put the top of your head on the floor, and straighten your knees, which looks suspiciously like our lessons on headstands. The difference is that instead of being taught it, they're just experimenting and playing with it.

Yesterday I got a really interesting lesson in development. (It's not physical development, so not directly related to Feldenkrais, but interesting anyway.) I was at work on a Saturday evening, providing child care for parents who wanted to attend the school's annual no-kids-allowed fundraiser auction. We had a much larger age range of kids than usual. Normal age range is 2.5-5, but we had a few 6 year olds and a 9 year old to add to the mix. We were all playing outside, and a kid got pushed, fell down, and started crying.

Normal preschool situation that would follow: A teacher comes over to find out what happened and make sure everyone's okay. If a teacher doesn't notice right away, a child who saw it happen will come and tell a teacher that so-and-so is crying or got hurt. If the child who's crying was hurt by someone else, a teacher will ask that child to "check in" and make sure their friend is okay.

Yesterday's bigger age range situation: I went over to see what happened and find out why he was crying. A kindergartener saw me, came over, and asked the boy who was crying if he was okay. As I was talking to the boy, two more kindergarteners came over and asked if he was okay, saw that he was, helped him up off the ground, and got him involved in their game.

I was totally delighted to see that happen, because we never see it in our age group. The lesson I learned - empathy develops between ages 5 and 6, at least according to what I saw.

Musings on Preschool and Preschoolers

Teaching preschool is insane. I completely recognize that. It takes more patience and energy than anyone in the world could ever muster, and I am probably not so slowly losing some part of my hearing from the volume and pitch levels kids can reach, and yet I continue. Sometimes, after a particularly hard day of whining and arguments and misplaced blame and yelling, I wonder why I'm still there, and then as soon as I'm out of that environment and can think about something else again, I remember how much I adore those kids. I can think about times when I notice changes happening in them, specific times when they've grown before my eyes, or times when they show me that they care about me too. A great example of that came from 4-year-old Owen today while picking walking partners for a trip to the park - "I want you to be my partner because I love you!"

The moments where I can bring Feldenkrais into my work there always sneak up on me and surprise me. They're always little things, such as asking myself, as I'm running around setting up morning snack, how easily can I pick up that surprisingly heavy stack of tiny chairs? While rubbing someone's back at nap time, wondering where my attention is and if my intention is actually to help that person fall asleep, to keep an eye on the other kids, somehow do both at once, or if it's somewhere else altogether (I've noticed that it's just as likely to be any one of those as another). I find myself catching moments where I'm physically uncomfortable and changing what I'm doing where I might not have before. Each of those moments makes the insanity a bit easier to handle, because in paying attention to what I'm actually doing, I'm better prepared to take on whatever comes at me. That could be grabbing a toy out of someone's hand as it's about to hit someone else. It could be a 3.5-year-old boy charging toward me in the yard, arms outstretched, wanting to be lifted into the air a split second before he rams into me. You just never know what to expect in a preschool. Rules barely apply. (Except for gravity. Lesson to be learned by 3-year-olds: if you lean way to the side in your chair, you WILL fall out and probably hurt yourself. Even 3-year-olds can't defy gravity.) Have to be ready for anything.

PS. Watching a kid get on their hands and knees, put the top of their head on the floor, and straighten their knees during a boring nap time looks suspiciously like some headstand ATMs we did...

Inspiration

Have you ever had someone tell you that you inspire them? I hadn't until recently. A friend of mine from class, Ryan, does acrobatics for fun, but a few months ago he got a bad shoulder injury that's prevented him from doing what he loves. I think at first it was physical block, and once he got past that, it turned into mental block - ie. I can't do acrobatics because I'm injured. Apparently, I was part of what got him out of that.

Ryan's told me more than once in the past few months that I inspire him. I didn't understand why at first, because what could I have done to inspire somebody? I'm just living my life. He told me that it's because I don't let my physical constraints get in my way - I do Feldenkrais, I dance, I live my life how I want to, and I've figured out how to do all of that in a way that works for me and my body. In watching me do that, he's figured out how to get back into acrobatics and enjoy it again, despite his slowly healing shoulder.

It's surreal to think of that as inspiring. Like I said, all I'm doing is living my life. I just choose to live it so that I can enjoy it, not so that I'm stuck in my limitations. I fought with those limitations all through high school and I don't want to be in that fighting place anymore. I'm just trying to move on from that. It's great if that happens to inspire somebody, but it's also strange. It makes my life feel bigger than I consider it to be, because it's proof that simply the way I live my life in relation to myself, not to someone else, affects somebody directly.

Day 20: End of Segment 3

Man, what a great end to a segment. Today was so much fun.

We finished the headstand series with a big emphasis on being happy about what you accomplished even if you didn't actually get into a full headstand, which most people didn't. I got to a point of being comfortable on my head and hands and toes, and I'm totally fine with that. Considering that two weeks ago I wasn't comfortable/didn't feel safe on my hands and knees with my head close to the floor, I accomplished a lot. I am also comfortable again in a long-lost position that I love - lying on your back and throwing your legs up in the air so you're balanced on your upper back, head, and elbows, supporting your back with your hands. I used to love to do that when I was little but lost the ability and strength to do it for a long time. It's finally back, and I love it just as much now as I did then. I can even bring my knees to touch my forehead there, not because of flexibility but because of actually having mobility in my spine and hip joints. It's totally thrilling, and hopefully I'll be able to hold onto it this time.

Oh, and in case I haven't mentioned it, it's become my life-long goal to never have hip surgery again. I'm done with it. I can take care of myself and not need the help of someone who wants to cut me open. Hip replacement around age 50 or 60, as my surgeon predicted? No thanks.

We did this amazing lesson yesterday about visualizing our spines, and I'm really enjoying the after effects. Did you know that your spine is not just the bumps you feel along your back, but a thick curvy column of vertebrae? Most people know that from anatomy books or x-rays, but actually getting a sense of that column inside yourself is a very different story. Since that lesson, I've felt very tall, very stable, and I've had a wonderful ability to curve my spine evenly and roll around on the floor without hurting myself.

More fun stuff from today... an FI practice! It went really well, not because the person I was working with felt perfect afterwards, but because we both just had fun with it. We were supposed to play with how our partner could turn, first lying on their side, then on their stomach, then on their back. When she switched to her stomach, it immediately became obvious to both of us that she wasn't comfortable that way. So, instead of going all goal-oriented and trying to make her turn, I kind of forgot about the lesson and focused on how to help her be more comfortable there. It was really relaxing to be able to forget about what I was "supposed" to be doing and instead do what my partner actually needed at that moment.

Here's a photo of us working. I'm finding out how much movement is available tipping her pelvis side to side.

By the end of the day we had all lost our minds, resulting in the first real class-wide fit of hysterics of the segment. Once we had finally settled down to do our last ATM, we heard a group of kids outside shouting and laughing. I don't know what they were doing because I was lying on the floor with my eyes closed, but it sounded really fun. Someone in the room commented out of nowhere, "I want to be doing what those kids are doing." I'm sure we all agreed. Alan told us that we probably would be by the end of the lesson. We weren't quite as loud as the kids, but we were definitely all animated when we stood up.

And that's it. We packed up, said our goodbyes, and went home to a beautiful sunny spring afternoon. As my carpool-mate Lisa said on the way home, it feels little like it should be summer vacation. Class is out, the sun is shining, and we'll all be back in September. In the meantime, I'm back to work on Monday, and most of us will see each other in study groups, regular get-togethers of students to do FI practice, ATMs, or just talk.

Podcast Recommendation

Anyone reading this blog might find this podcast episode interesting - Radiolab: Where Am I? I got it from a classmate, and it's got some bizarre examples of when things go wrong in the connection between your brain and your body. I particularly enjoyed the section about a man who lost all sense of himself in space and how to move himself from one place to another, and then found a way to teach himself to move again that sounds an awful lot like Feldenkrais. Hearing about army pilots with out-of-body experiences is pretty cool too. I'm not a huge fan of how the podcast is recorded (lots of cuts of different people talking spliced together can be a little hard to listen to), but they bring up some really interesting ideas and situations.

That's all for tonight. Tomorrow morning is Day 20, the last day of this segment, for better or for worse, and I should go to bed.