T'ai Chi as a Path to Rehabilitation

 

By Carol Croskery

 

    I was several days shy of my sixtieth birthday when my love affair with T'ai Chi began. Even though I really knew very little about it, I knew I wanted to find a Tai Chi class. I had a difficult time finding a class that fit with my busy schedule as a psychotherapist.
    After a thorough search, I discovered a class at the local Senior Center. From my first class I was hooked. I have discovered from the people who come and go from class that Tai Chi either calls your name or it doesn't.  In my case, it beckoned to me and called me in a way I wouldn't have been able to resist (not that I wanted to).
    From the beginning, I practiced at home after each class, hungry to learn what had been presented that day. My teacher had the gift of presenting things in tiny increments, so I was able to make swift progress.
    There were two classes a week scheduled, one for beginners and one for advanced students. Early on, I started attending advanced class too to see what I could learn.
    Once, I hurt my back but I still went to class to sit on the sidelines to learn what tidbits I could. I wanted to learn something each class period even if it was only a turn of the wrist.
    I've already mentioned my teacher. One day, I asked her to go for coffee after class, wanting to hear what her path had been. We quickly realized we had a lot in common. It was instant like.
    Five months later, over dinner, we discovered that we had gone to elementary school together and had been in the same first grade class. In fact she had a class picture in which the two of us were on the front row standing almost side-by-side. It was astonishing to realize that we had known each other over fifty years ago. After that we became fast friends.
    She encouraged me to buy a horse (that had been a life long fantasy of mine), which I did and stabled with her horse on her land. As a novice horsewoman, I tried to use Tai Chi principles of relaxation in dealing with my filly.
    Two years and a couple of months into my study, I had a bizarre situation that led to a serious back surgery, which left me living in a body I didn't recognize, weak, off-balance and twenty-five pounds lighter, as well as being in chronic pain.
    The problem started seemingly from nothing. I had come down with the flu in November, which was followed by post-flu complications, including pneumonia. I didn't seem to be getting well, and by mid-December I was in such pain that my doctor sent me to the hospital. There, they discovered that my seventh thoracic vertebra had fractured.
    They performed what could have been a simple procedure called a Vertebroplasty, in which they injected a glue like substance into the vertebra, using fluoroscopy as a guide. Several days later, I went home with home health care assigned to me. I was only home a week and was so sick and in so much pain that the visiting nurse called my doctor and said "This woman needs to be in the hospital." Again in the hospital, they discovered that I now had a staph infection and that glue had leaked all over the inside of my back. It was even on my aorta. A team of highly specialized doctors including a neurosurgeon, an orthopedic surgeon, a pulmonary specialist, and an infectious disease control physician, a cardiologist, and of course, my primary care physician coordinated my care.
    After six weeks of heavy-duty antibiotics, delivered intravenously, they determined that the infection could not be budged and I needed a complicated surgery.After chiseling glue from my spine and removing it wherever they found it on soft tissue, the doctors fused vertebrae three through ten. They also placed quite a bit of hardware in my back, including five screws, two rods, and a titanium cage.
    Recuperation from my surgeries has been long and arduous. My three daily enemies have been fatigue, nausea, and pain. The first two are resolving, but the pain has been relentless. I know I am lucky to be alive as my doctors told my family and friends that I might not make it. That's what I believed too. In fact, I reflected over the whole of my life and found that I had no major regrets. While I wanted to live, if death were to come, I was at least at peace.
    I was in the hospital almost three months, and since coming home, I have not yet been able to resume my normal activities. I have wanted to keep a positive mental attitude, but it has been difficult. I've felt like nine months (at the time of this writing) have been stolen from my life. I want my old life back. I am now receiving physical therapy, acupuncture, and hypnotherapy, as well as conventional medical treatment in my quest for wellness. But I wanted T'ai Chi to be part of my recovery too.
    I remembered from my days as a middle school principal that we always had a program of what we called Adaptive Physical Education for our handicapped students. It occurred to me that I could adapt my T'ai Chi form to fit my current level of functioning.  When I first returned to class, I was unable to even do more than a very few minutes of the warm ups before I would become nauseated and need to sit down.   Even that was an improvement over my first efforts at home, because there I needed to be able to have something close (like the book case) to hold onto or I would lose my balance.  Over time I was able little by little to build up strength enough to participate in more and more of class. I was attending class twice a week and practicing every day at home.
    Being in class was important regardless of my level of participation because of the encouragement I received from my classmates and the good feeling in the room.  In fact, after about twenty minutes of Tai Chi or qigong taking place in the room, there seems to be a powerful, healing energy in the room that is virtually palpable. This is whether or not I am one of the people doing T'ai Chi. Today, I am continuing to use my adaptations to my T'ai Chi form as a tool of rehabilitation. Although the adaptations to the form seemed significant, they were few and only required making the kicks lower, avoiding bending so low, and eliminating the spins.Now, I am able to do the fifty-four movement, ten minute Yang style (short) form taught in my class.
    The qigong segments of both my class and my personal practice have served to strengthen my legs. Towards that end. I have found T'ai Chi walking, standing in Horse position, and shifting my weight from one leg to the other, paying attention to the concepts of "full and empty" to be particularly helpful. Simply focusing on activating and directing qi in my body has been healing.  It is my fervent goal that I regain the ability to do my form as well as I did before my hospitalization. My teacher thinks I can surpass my old level. That would be great.
    My teacher also invited me to go to Michael Gilman's Energetic Retreat at Lake Crescent, Olympic National Park, Washington outside of Seattle. The retreat was a real highlight of my T'ai Chi journey.
    In addition to studying with Michael Gilman, we had the opportunity to study with Gao Fu who was in her eighties and a real example of someone who truly understands qi.  As important as the healing aspects of T'ai Chi are, I am also fascinated by the true martial art that T'ai Chi is. The feature that interests me most is the meditative aspect.
T'ai Chi is rightly called a moving meditation. It has been so much a part of my own inward journey. I am so grateful to have Tai Chi as part of my life.