Part 8

Breathless

In March, I visited my doctor complaining about a pain in the back of my neck. After an examination, X-ray and ultrasound we discovered that I had a frozen right shoulder. The weight of my weak right arm had caused the joint to become solid and it was only when my back and left side of my neck were involved, that I actually felt anything. With no feedback of pain from my right side, I was unaware that this painful condition had arisen. I mentioned all this to my good friend Nola and she suggested that I visit her wonderful physiotherapist, Melanie.

Melanie was both enthusiastic and dedicated. She saw each of her patient’s suffering as a challenge to overcome. She worked hard to understand and resolve our problems. Melanie explained that the ‘frozen’ shoulder was caused by reduced muscle tone in my right arm. This flaccidity resulted in weakness and loss of strength. We worked at improving the muscle tone.

‘Push against me,’ Melanie would say, and together we would have a battle of strength. I tried my hardest to overcome her resistance. My face would turn red with the effort, and I would feel about to burst until I suddenly remembered that I had forgotten to breathe.

I would look at Melanie and discover the same look of concentration on her face as I felt on my own, and I realized I was not the only one who had not taken a breath. We would burst out laughing, recover our breaths, and resume our exercises. It was so wonderful to have someone working with me and for me, devising new ways to improve my muscle tone. I listened intently to everything Melanie said, but in my happy and relaxed state the words just flowed over me. I knew what I was doing and what I needed to practice at home, and why, I just could never remember the names Melanie gave these particular exercises.

She explained that after a stroke, the body naturally changes its posture. The affected arm has a tendency to pull in closer to the body and chest, and the hand to become clenched and twisted. To counteract these actions Melanie demonstrated some exercises for me to perform; for example, stretching my right arm above my head with fingers extended, and holding this position for some minutes would unlock the frozen state. The I want more food, and take it away, actions involved me rhythmically moving my hand and arm towards my body and then away from it. This was to encourage my brain cells to repattern the responses from rigid closure to a freer, more relaxed movement.

New leaf

As I read over these few last paragraphs I begin to feel guilty. Here I am espousing how important a patient’s input into their rehabilitation is, and that their motivation is the key to producing the best results, and to make a difference. However, I realise I am lying back and passively allowing Melanie to do all the work. Even if I am physically contributing to the session I am aware I have divorced my mind from it.

So I will start anew and consciously attend Melanie’s instructions, albeit the peacefulness and safety of her presence, and will direct my thoughts to the job in hand. I know that I am not alone in my response to Melanie. Nola and another good friend from stroke support group, also succumb to the magic that Melanie exudes. Each of us has been guilty of staying a little bit longer, stretching our five minutes of relaxation on the treatment bed a bit further or actually giving into the sensations and having a quiet sleep in these peaceful surroundings. We feel so safe and secure and can relax our strong grip on our bodies when we are with her.

Many exercises we have done seem to be so simple and yet are so effective. I use weights in my hand to strengthen it, and stand like a stork on my right leg, each day increasing the number of seconds I can hold this position. By leaning on my right hand I force the muscles in my arm to respond to the weight of my body. The exercises are neither difficult nor complicated, yet each one forces another set of muscles to perform their function and strengthen this side. These exercises can be incorporated into my daily life. Peeling vegetables can still be done on one leg, while weight bearing can be achieved when I am vacuuming the house. I push the cleaner forward with my hand, pull it towards me and use the resistance of the carpet to counteract my actions. My house gets clean and the dinner is prepared and I also grow stronger on my right side.

Acidity

Many months later I was having a follow up session with Melanie. I commented to her that coping with the acid burn pain I was experiencing in the back of my right thigh was still my greatest challenge. Melanie suggested that she would investigate it and see if anything could be done to reduce the intensity and severity of the pain. We were both amazed to discover that the region where I experienced this pain was the area that covered the hamstring muscle. Melanie examined the muscle and discovered that it was so tightly contracted that it was as hard as a rock.

She spent some time massaging the area and we could both feel the tension lessening. The massaging needed to be very deep and it was excruciatingly painful as she worked on me. Over the next few weeks I used heat, massage and Tiger Balm ointment to continue the work. I was thrilled with the results. Within that space of time the size of the painful area was reduced from a postcard size to an almost insignificant postage stamp and the intensity of the pain was also much easier to bear.

I was informed that my description of acid eating away at my flesh was possibly accurate. The lactic acid trapped for so long inside my hamstring muscle could account for all this pain. We had all dismissed this pain as being the result of the damage to my brain cells, when in fact it could have been as a result of this muscle caught in extreme tension. The affected area did not disappear but over time it has also not increased in size and as a constant it does not loom so large in my mind.

Rocky road

Despair and depression are very real and are commonly experienced by stroke survivors and their carers. It is a difficult task to be optimistic and not lose sight of hope. However, life was not meant to be easy. We are here to learn, and our lessons are in how we manage to overcome the obstacles set before us. We have to accept each new challenge as it is presented to us. We need to see them as a means of progressing along the path to become the best self we can be. An obstacle can be a stepping stone rather than a blockage. It all depends on my attitude and my point of view.

I see in my mind’s eye the path before me. I need to watch each step I take and where I place my feet. The path is uneven and rocky and the landscape is shrouded by a thick mist. There is a second path, gently sloping down to the left. This trail is smooth and inviting and looks the easier one to negotiate. However, I know this facade is deceptive. Beyond my view the path quickly spirals down to a dark and dismal place, a cavern full of despair, depression and blackness. I have been there before and know how difficult it is to extract oneself from its talons. Just as the Sirens beckoned the weary sailors of Ancient Greece onto the rocks and to their demise we can be enticed into its web of deceit. I know that I do not belong there and I must fight against the dreadful fatigue that I experience. Although it is tempting to give into the seduction of relaxing my control over my body and allowing passivity and negativity to take over it is not the ideal solution. I know how much energy it takes to drag oneself from the deep well of despair and emerge again into the light.

My path winds uphill to the right. I know that as soon as I break through the fog that surrounds me now, I shall see clearly. The road ahead will expand before me, and with determination and continuing dedication I shall achieve my goal.

I have found my own solution to overcoming despair, and that is passion. By being enthusiastic about my family, my friends and my hobbies, I can keep my spirits elevated. Each time I begin to feel low and am tempted to take that left path, I know just where to go – to our beautiful garden at Warburton. Here I can be re-energized and revitalized in this peaceful sanctuary. I believe I have the power to heal myself, I just have to find the way to do it.

Healing does not necessarily mean full recovery and eliminating all my deficits. It is the process of coming to terms with them, accepting them and moving forward. I needed to place less emphasis on what I could not do and more on what I could achieve when I challenged myself. The shady fern glades and the sound of the little creek babbling down through our garden provided the ideal backdrop.

Sanctuary

Each time I went to Warburton to stay, I felt stronger and more alive. Planning and designing new garden beds, and creating more breathing space for the already established plants gave me the opportunity to delight in nature and at the same time to be one with it. Together we could achieve so much.

My enthusiasm and passion for the garden diminished the pain in my brain as my mind was filled with visions of new gardens surrounding the large mature trees. The smell of the damp earth, the perfume of the roses and the colours and textures of the many plants were indeed heady. They all succeeded in overwhelming my senses and gave me a new lease on life.

From the front gate the gravel driveway winds its way towards the Devon-style cottage centrally placed in the garden. The cottage has a steeply pitched roof covered in grey slate-like tiles and projecting from the roof are two sets of dormer windows. Various plants border the drive and beyond them one can see the tall eucalypts rising high above the rhododendrons, camellias and hydrangea bushes. A pathway opens up beside the driveway and meanders through the double archway of clematis and wisteria to arrive at a sunken garden. A magnificent weeping Japanese maple with its long red feathery leaves is the centrepiece here, and edging this area are cherry trees and old fashioned rose bushes.

The garden drops down and away in a series of gentle slopes. A flight of wooden steps leads the visitor to the lowest level where the water lily and iris pond is fed by our little brook. The perfume emanating from the creamy heads of the tall ginger plants is almost overwhelming as we brush past their slender stalks and wander through the twisting trails between the tree ferns.

‘To everything is a season

And a time to every purpose under heaven A time to sow and a time to reap’

There is time in my garden for each inhabitant to be in the spotlight and shine in this small microcosm of the world. Every plant has the chance to take the limelight and bask in its glory before another takes its place. In July the first of the camellias put on their showy display. The early spring bulbs, snowdrops, jonquils and daffodils follow quickly competing with each other for our attention. Spring heralds all the cottage flowers, honesty, love-in-the-mist, and granny’s bonnets to mention just a few, as well as the rhododendrons and azaleas. The blossom trees and magnolias fight for supremacy and as summer approaches the hydrangeas come into their own. As autumn draws near the leaves on the many maple trees add a riot of colour and beneath their boughs the Japanese anenomes sway gracefully in the breeze. The rose bushes produce their blooms through spring and summer and the air is heavy with their perfume. The garden is a mass of colour throughout the year.

Around every corner is another vista, another surprise. It is like taking a journey of discovery. One has to explore each winding path and each level to find all its treasures. Over the little bridges that span the creek one can even find fairies at the bottom of our garden. Beneath the tree ferns in the deep shade, there they sit. Along this side of the bank red and white spotted toadstools can be found, and the grandchildren know not to touch them for these are the fairies’ homes.

I feel that we are the custodians of this place, rather than the owners, as the garden itself dictates what it is and how it shall grow. I really have no authority here. I stroll around and try to see where I can assist the plants, rather than trying to force my will on these living inhabitants. A small prune is needed here, the clearing a round a rose bush to give it more breathing space – these are my assigned jobs to do. This is indeed my secret garden to share with all my friends.

Here in the garden my thoughts return to a song we sang at a Girl Guide camp all those years ago. We would be sitting cross-legged around the campfire with the shadowy silhouettes of the majestic gum trees in the background behind us. We listened to the final chords of the native birds’ twilight chorus before we would raise our voices in song to rival our feathered friends:

Peace, I ask of thee, O river Peace, peace, peace

When I learn to live serenely Cares will cease

From thy hills I gather courage Vision of the day to be

Strength to lead and faith to follow All are given unto thee Peace I ask of thee, O river Peace, peace, peace.