Savasana

It was at the end of our yoga class a couple of weeks ago. Everyone in the room was relaxing in our favorite pose: Savasana. After our workout, it's wonderful to just lie still for awhile. It's an important time, too, according to our teacher, Paul Zeiger. This is when our body has a chance to process all the work we've just done. Our class is good at this. After a couple of minutes, at least one person was snoring. My attempt to relax wasn't going so well. By the time Paul had turned off the lights, I could feel my left hand start to curl up. By the time he turned the lights on again, I had turned into a human pretzel. Both of my arms were curled tightly against my chest, my feet were curling and cramping, and my legs were crossed. I couldn't move.

Literally, savasana means “corpse pose”. I was in “rigor mortis” pose.

This has been happening more often than I'd like. To be honest, I would prefer it not to happen at all, but my body stopped listening to my preferences when I was a teenager and wanted long, thick, wavy hair and larger breasts. It certainly isn't listening to me now that Medicare has stopped paying for two of my medications. When I hit the prescription drug gap, it was like hitting a brick wall. I explored my options but couldn't afford them. I decided to slowly go off these drugs completely. What's the use of taking them at all if I can only have them half the year?

There were two immediate consequences of going off the meds. I lost 8 pounds in the first three weeks and, as certain behavior tendencies started to drop away, I realized that the effects of these drugs did more than help with my Parkinson's. I was no longer stopping at Safeway and picking up chocolate eclairs to eat in the car and baking cookies and pies every week. Of course, the physical symptoms the meds had controlled also started up again with a vengeance. My mood wasn't so good, either. I was starting to feel depressed.

I decided to look at the connections between Parkinson's medications and their effect on mood and behavior. Not enough Dopamine in your system and the communication between the brain and the muscles breaks down. It can also cause depression, over and above the normal depressing feeling of having the communication system fail and your limbs refusing to take orders. I have to consciously think about things that I used to do without thinking, like blinking my eyes. Then again, a little too much Dopamine in your system and you're at risk for obsessive/compulsive/impulsive behavior and dyskinesias; in other words, not having total control over your thoughts and actions.

This has made me think a lot about who I am. It's a little like the game of peek-a-boo that I play with our grandson. “Where's Mattheus?” I say, looking around the room. When our eyes meet, he starts to giggle. “There he is!” I exclaim as he runs into my arms for a hug. Lately, I've been trying to look through all the complex chemical and electroneurological reactions that control our personalities and moods and wondering, “Where am I? Where is Terri in all of this?” It's a strange game of peek-a-boo and I'm trying to catch a glimpse of myself.

Am I the manic-depressive wife who alternates between working non-stop on my craft projects and then crashing for several days at a time? Am I a needy person who, at times, depends too much on my friends? Am I the neglectful daughter who should be taking better care of my parents? Am I trying so hard to control my physical body that I end up trying to control everything and everybody in my life? Am I an awful person? Do I need more dopamine? 

In the midst of this self-flaggelation, there were three friends of mine who stepped up, out of the blue, to let me know that I had been a role model to them. None of them knew what I was going through. They were each from a different part of the country, too, and didn't know each other. It was humbling. My first reaction was to feel ashamed. Why would anyone choose me as a role model; especially now? Each one, however, had gone into some detail as to why they chose me. I could't argue back. I was forced to conclude that I must not be all bad.

It's terribly humbling to have to take a good, hard look at myself and embrace both the good and the "needs improvement" parts of me, those aspects that I find hard to love. Yes I am all those people I described and probably more as well; which is to say, I am human and fallible and complicated.  Knowing this is one thing, believing in myself is quite another altogether.

The experience in my yoga class the other week was a good exercise. Lying on the floor, all twisted up, I didn't want to disturb anyone else. I didn't say anything and wasn't noticed till the lights came on. I knew exactly when my teacher saw me when I heard him say, “Hmm.” He found it interesting. He finds everything interesting.  He came to help and that alerted Chris to what was going on.  The good exercise part of this was that, until Chris came to my rescue and helped me to gradually straighten my twisted arms and legs, I managed somehow, even in pretzel form with my feet painfully cramped, to find that inner quiet and peace. It's an experience I'll never forget. 

I was able to say to myself, “Here, I am.”

CAFFEINATED!

(With apologies to the late Gene Amole, former columnist for the Rocky Mt. News, and his Idea Fairy.)

The jitters were still affecting me last night after having that cup of coffee at 9:00 am. I know, at 7:30 pm, it should have worn off long ago, but it hadn't, which was why I was still enthusiastic and excited, and why I was looking through business papers and paying bills, planning my next step for the business, and writing with long run-on sentences with lots of commas, regardless of whether they are needed, or not. The only problem was that it was hard to focus; which is why it took me awhile to notice the fairy that was sitting on top of my computer screen, looking down onto my work. I decided to be polite.

Me: Who the hell are you and where did you come from?

Fairy: I'm the Opinion Fairy. I've been watching you for awhile and thought I'd come and tell you what I think of your work.

Me: Isn't that supposed to be Idea Fairy?

Opinion Fairy: That's my cousin. She's nice. Now, are you going to tell me? What are you so excited about?

Me: I made it through the meeting with my vocational/rehab counselor and it went well, in fact, it went even better than I expected, especially as he started by telling me what I hadn't done that I was supposed to be doing, and which papers I hadn't turned in.

O.F.: You're doing it again.

Me: What?

O.F.: Speaking in long run-on sentences.

Me: But I'm excited! Just listen. I blew him away with my promo video and how clear I was with what I wanted to do with my business and how much I had sold already and my connections with wholesalers and authors, and how practical I am.

O.F.: You don't sound practical now. You sound manic. What's going on?

Me: I had a cup of coffee this morning. I said that already.

O.F.: This morning? Come on. I drink coffee every morning and it doesn't do that to me.

Me: But I don't drink coffee.

O.F.: You just said you did.

Me: I was invited over to have coffee with someone this morning and it was, like, coffee. Usually when I go out for coffee, I have tea.

O.F.: It'll take me awhile to work that one out. So, you had coffee this time.

Me: Yeah. She poured a cup of coffee and handed it to me. I thought, “I'm an adult. Adults drink coffee. I can do this.”

O.F.: You've never had coffee before this morning?

Me: Of course I've had coffee! Thirty-two years ago, we went on a road trip through the midwest, in August, and we left at night so we wouldn't have to drive through the heat. I drank a half cup of coffee with lots of milk and sugar in it, just so I could stay awake.

O.F.: Meaning, of course, that there must have been a whole tablespoon of actual Java in there?

Me: Yeah. Something like that. I have weird reactions to things. My family still gives me a hard time for getting tipsy from drinking an O'Doul's. Don't worry about me. I'm okay now. It's starting to wear off. I'm calm. I'm calm.

O.F.: Calm!? You're like a chipmonk that's just gotten off a roller coaster, a hummingbird on speed, a person with Parkinson' disease who's forgotten her medication.

Me: Okay, now that's getting personal. I'll have you know I've taken all my meds today.

O.F.: If this is calm, what were you like earlier?

Me: Well, when I got home from my visit, my husband had to take me for a walk.

O.F.: A walk is good.

Me: Yeah, except I was walking backwards...

O.F.: Backwards...?

Me: ...and sideways.

The Opinion Fairy raised one eyebrow. She wasn't going to comment on that one. I was impressed. I've always wanted to be able to raise just one eyebrow.

O.F.: I'm glad you made it through. Now, can we get on with your writing? It's just that, I've got another gig tonight and I shouldn't be late.

Me: Someone more important than me, I suppose.

O.F.: That's classified information; and don't feel sorry for yourself. Now, I see you've got several ideas for articles written down there.

Me: Leave it to me to get an Opinion Fairy. Okay, I've narrowed it down to three – “choosing the right kind of pillow”, “the benefits of an afternoon nap”, or “sleep-a-thon raises money for Parkinson's research”.

O.F.: Sounds like you need another cup of coffee. I'll tell you what. There's another idea here that's worth exploring. “The benefits of low dose medical marijuana for Parkinson's patients”. I'm sure a lot of people would be interested in that.

Me: That's a good idea. Of course, that means I'll be coming out of the closet and admitting that I use it. There's still a stigma to that, you know, even if you just use it now and then. People don't realize that you don't have to get high or stoned. If used as a medicine, it's a medicine.

O.F.: Yeah, and it controls your startle reflex, takes the edge off your dystonia, and can knock out a migraine. People just need to be educated about it, you know that. It even has fewer side effects of any other drug you take for your Parkinson's.

Me: Including coffee. You have been watching me, haven't you?! I suppose you'll want to get credit for the idea?

O.F.: No, no. You'd better leave me out of it.

Me: Why? You don't trust my writing?

O.F.: Well, it's just that, if you tell people that a fairy helped you to write an article about medical marijuana, they might not take you seriously. At least, that's my opinion.

I sighed and admitted that she was probably right.

Making Friends with the Mirror

My dad has a wonderful attitude about growing old. He tells his doctor that, with all his aches and pains, he doubts he has more than twenty good years left. He just turned 87 last week. When he feels his age more than any other time, is when he looks in the mirror. Then he wonders who that old man is looking out at him. It's a shock, realizing that he is looking at himself. He doesn't feel that old. 

During my first year of kindergarten teaching, I had a young boy in my class whose father could do anything, at least according to his young son. I had the task of reading a story to the nap time group every afternoon and, no matter what the story was about, as soon as I finished reading, this boy would say loudly, “My dad can do that.” As his dad just happened to be one of my colleagues, I had a delightful time imagining him, in his white shirt and tie, fighting tigers, climbing high mountains, and capturing alligators.

In my own way, I tell myself the same thing all the time. When I saw home made brooms for the first time, I was immediately intrigued and looked hard at how they were made. My first thought? I bet I could do that. The same thing with binding books or sewing a diaper stacker for my new grandson. How are they made? I bet I could do that. I've gotten myself in trouble from time to time because I commit to doing something that I've never done before, assuring myself that “I know I can do that” before I realize what I'm doing or how large of a job I've just taken on. 

This is why I am now finishing numerous craft projects, starting a business, preparing to be a health mentor to a group of medical students later this week, and writing a novel. Can I do that? I have no idea, but that's not the point. If I don't try, I'll never know. 

Watching someone dance is beautiful, amazing, and awe inspiring, and it makes me squirm in my seat. I don't want to just watch, thank you very much. To be truthful, I am more likely now to say, “I wish I could do that”, but that's just my thinking. My arms and legs decide on their own and begin to follow along. I can feel it in my bones. My body decides it can dance and is just waiting for me to catch up. In my imagination, I look and move just as beautifully as the dancers whom I am watching.

Dancing in my Dance for Parkinson's class is even better than in my imagination because I'm really moving! I might miss a step or two and I might accidentally start walking the wrong way, but that's okay because I'm a dancer. I'm determined. I can do that. The music starts and I'm off. Plie, port de bras, tendu, brush forward, brush back. Even the words are beautiful.

Then we turn and face the mirror. Ohmigod. I don't really look like a dancer, do I? Who is that dumpy middle aged woman with Parkinson's disease, who is trying awkwardly to keep up with the teachers? Again I realize how much we, especially all of us females, are taught to dislike our bodies. Really, I don't look at anyone else and feel the need to be critical of their bodies. In fact, as an artist, I find myself savoring every wrinkle and all the wonderful oddities that make each of us unique. As a friend, I see you, not just how you look. I know my friends do the same for me.

Okay, my next challenge is to make friends with the mirror. That is who I am and I really wouldn't want to be any different. I rather like who I am right now. Along with learning how to dance, I'm taking on this bigger challenge. I'm going to learn to enjoy watching myself, as I am, moving and dancing, awkward as I may be, in the mirror.

I can do that.

This video is from our Rhythm and Grace dance class.  Thank you to the Parkinson's Association of the Rockies for the video and for sponsoring this class!!

Rhythm and Grace

A friend of mine once complained that his girlfriend had signed them up for a Jazzercise class so they would have something they could do together. My friend was less than thrilled. In fact, he ended up by saying that just about anything would have been better than a Jazzercise class. “If she had signed us up for ballroom dancing, that would have been okay. I would've done that, but not Jazzercise.”

I learned a good lesson from this. I had been going about things all wrong. Instead of suggesting, asking, or begging my husband to take a ballroom dance class with me, I should have simply signed us up for Jazzercise. Dancing would have been welcomed after that. I briefly considered telling him that I had done this, just to try it, but abandoned the idea quickly. He wouldn't have bought it. He knows my bladder wouldn't hold up to that kind of exercise.

Nevertheless, I have always been interested in dance, so when the Parkinson's Association of the Rockies decided to start a “Dance for Parkinson's” class in Denver, I was ready to sign up. Chris declined my offer to sign him up as well, out of the noble viewpoint that if he was to come, he would be taking up space that should go so someone else with Parkinson's. I accepted his noble excuse while noting the look of relief on his face.

Yesterday was the first class. I had looked forward to this ever since participating in the demonstration class last month. Because parking was limited in the area, I had the brilliant idea that I could drive to our school and take the bus back and forth to the class, arriving back at school in plenty of time to take our daughter home. In theory, this was a good idea. The bus dropped me off right at the door of the Colorado Ballet. After an hour and a half of vigorous exercise and another bus ride, I walked the two blocks back to where I had parked the car. I swear that each of those blocks must have been at least a mile long. It was my triathlon: walk, ride the bus, dance, walk, ride the bus, walk again. My timing was a bit off but, all in all, I didn't do too badly.

The class itself was incredibly fun! I can't even tell you what all we did, mostly because I can't remember what the steps were called. Our teachers, Private Freeman and Sharon Wehner, are professional dancers and we had a lovely woman providing live music for our efforts. And effort it was. I learned a lot of things yesterday.

First of all, I learned that I function quite well from the waist up. Okay, I knew that already. I know right from left and my arms generally do what I ask them to do. My legs, on the other hand, have no interest at all in cooperating with me. They refuse to obey the simplest commands, especially if it entails knowing which is the right foot and which is the left; or it might have been that they were competing and each wanted to go first. It's not just a physical workout. It also requires that we pay attention to the other members of the group and how we are moving. I am proud to say I did not bump into anyone.

Then the music started and we danced from our chairs, behind our chairs, and then across the room. It didn't matter that we weren't perfect. I was moving to the music and I felt like a dancer! I credit the teachers for this. They treat us as though we are peers and they make it clear that our movements, even if they are limited, are beautiful to them. They didn't have to say this, it was obvious in every way they interacted with us. This could be another benefit of the class.  Maybe, just maybe, I'll start to see my movements as beautiful, too.

It's not surprising that the class is called “Rhythm and Grace”.

Strings Attached

Standing on the sidewalk, I looked down at my feet and wished, not for the first time, that I had some kind of strings attached to my shoes so that I could simply pull the strings to get my feet going again. I was stuck, or frozen, as my doctor calls it. “How often do you have freezing episodes?” he asked me earlier today. I resisted the urge to point out to him that it was 95 degrees outside and I was hardly likely to freeze; however, common sense and exhaustion got the better of me and I answered truthfully. 

It happens almost every day now, at least once, where I will try to walk and not be able to, or I will stop after a few steps and my feet seem stuck to the ground. Sometimes I can get going again by myself. Often I need someone to help me take those first few steps. Is it time to up my medications or is this just the new normal? 

As my own ability to move becomes more difficult, I find myself more and more interested in movement. I love my yoga class and can't wait to start in the Dance for Parkinson's class. I watch movies like “An American in Paris” and “Singing in the Rain”. I also enjoy watching Cirque du Soliel, Peter Davison (the dancer), and parkour, especially if our former student, Dylan Baker, is on the team. 

A few months ago, my son brought home a DVD from the library. It was a documentary about Igor Fokin, a Russian puppeteer who performed in Harvard Square for a number of years until his death in 1996. His marionettes came alive as they interacted with the audience. I would strongly recommend the film, “The Puppeteer”, to anyone and everyone. Just be sure to keep some tissues handy for the ending. 

Here was another way of looking at movement and it looked like so much fun! I had experience making and working with silk marionettes when I was teaching kindergarten, but I had never had the opportunity to work with more traditional marionettes. I was determined to try and make my own puppets and learn how to work them. Perhaps my daughter and I could practice enough to have a small show for the school fair at Christmas time? 

I've now made two puppets and I am working on two more. The newest one is a life size squirrel monkey. Making the puppets isn't so difficult. Stringing the puppets and creating a simple controller that will allow the puppet to move naturally, that is something else again. I have to learn how to create joints that work, how to balance the weight, and how it is that this particular puppet needs to move. It's a study in movement. It's not simply a matter of the puppeteer controlling the marionette. As Igor Fokin points out in the documentary, he gives the puppet just enough string to stand up on the ground and “They take care themselves. All I do is hold them up and lend a hand.” He makes it sound so easy. 

There is something magical about puppets. I brought Pippen, my first puppet, to school with me, right after I finished making him. I was with the second grade reading groups and it was the last week of school. There were three boys in my group who were more than ready for summer to begin and they had no intention of sitting still to read for 45 minutes. I brought out Pippen and these boys were so drawn to the puppet that they ignored everything else. I finally told them that if they promised to be very quiet, they could puppet-sit in the little coat room that was within the classroom. They were silent for the next 5 minutes. Then one of the boys came out with a book under his arm. “Mrs. Reinhart, if we promise to be very quiet and whisper, can we read to him?” Of course, I calmly replied. Looking in on them a few minutes later, I saw all three boys lying on the floor with the book between them. Pippen was sitting up next to the bookshelf and the boys were taking turns, as seriously and quietly as they could, reading to the puppet. Even without the strings, they're magical.

As for me, I'm still wondering whether attaching strings to my shoes would help me to get unstuck or if it would make me fall flat on the floor. Either way, it would be entertaining.

It seems I haven't figured out my controls yet, either.