Taking Risks

Because my Sensei taught me how to do knuckle push-ups correctly I can use that skill to get up from the floor without dislocating my fingers, hands, and wrists. This is why it's important to let vulnerable people try new things and take risks that directly affect them. Instead of getting hurt, I got better, and I solved a very big problem in the process.

A month will have passed since I last attended karate class because I'm moving to a new place, a car load at a time, each day. The ridiculously slow pace of moving has worked out well for my body and kept me able to work the next day. The help has made all the difference, as I am not required to risk lifting or stair climbing with my hands full.

I am trying hard to keep this blog about karate but other elements leak into it. Let's see where this goes. I promise to bring it back around.

If I get hurt in karate I can afford medical care to respond and recover. This enables me to take risks and learn new skills that improve my life. I fall less, bump into doors less, dislocate less, exercise more, and I am more compliant with meds, physical therapy, and splinting. I manage my fatigue more efficiently, participate in social activities, and have a greater overall sense of wellness, all thanks to karate.

Without ACA I am worried about my health. More accurately, I am worried I won't be able to afford my health. It cost me $28/day for saline infusions before ACA, not including my other meds and care. ACA has helped me stay alive, get healthier, and live more independently than ever in my life. I know changes will help some people, but I'm afraid for myself.

People say "[Trump] will probably leave the disability part alone" but if he's repealing maternity care stipulations I'm not so optimistic. It's not even possible to plan for how catastrophic it will be if I lose Medicaid. Before ACA I had to liquidate my retirement to pay medical expenses. I was considering the guaranteed poverty of SSDI and retiring on disability because it was cheaper than working full-time as a tax-paying contributor.

We'll see what happens. I'm trying not to panic, worry has never done me a lick of good. But planning has, and I have no way to plan for what will be financially irreconcilable, based not on fear-mongering about how bad a President Trump will be, but on past experience of how bad things can truly get.

It's bound to have an impact on my karate. I feel like I've got one more year to try everything I want to try, and then I'll have to practice like I'm made of porcelain. Therefore, I'd better hurry up and finish moving so I can get back to the dojo.

In life I've learned not to avoid fear, but karate has honed my skill to also not be unrealistic about what fear is trying to show me. Fear is trying to show me that something may change, that if I can prepare, I should. But if I cannot prepare, I can at least be ready to respond. There is always good work to do, there is always a positive way to respond--even when I'm not happy about it, which is when it matters the most.

Change is a given. It is said to be the thing people fear most. Therefore, as a veteran of change on all levels of life, I am not afraid of much. But I am afraid of the ACA repeal. So what can I do? I can practice zanshin, residual awareness. I can be ready to respond, even if I'm not sure to what, or how to do it just yet.

Trump is taking a gigantic risk, and he's gambling with other people's money, health, lives. In karate I take risks with my own health, not on others'. But my risks are good risks, carefully considered and closely monitored by outsiders with more experience. Even then, I still consider how others will be affected if I get hurt while working with a partner, or on a team. They may feel sad for me, or worry that they hurt me, and that can cut deeply for people with high sensitivity.

There is no silver bullet to fixing health care in America, no matter what side you're on. We have to work through it together. Seeing things get worse will only strengthen our resolve to make things better, but there will be many casualties in the process and I hope I will not become not one of them.

It will be okay. But first, and perhaps for a long time, it will be not okay. How to get through will be a matter of trial and error, like the thousands of kicks it takes to get one great blow, and even that one can be improved.

Swimming In Zanshin

Higaonna-Sensei says in an interview, "when I get a knee injury, one would normally think, what to do? [...] One should learn to live with it. [...] Stress is a person's biggest enemy."

This is a very hard lesson to get behind, though I understand his point. Learning to live with it is easier when the injury doesn't change and is localized. I suppose if I had one bad knee, with pain that didn't change much in severity, or didn't require an immediate and improvised adaptation to my day, I probably wouldn't get choked up.  This is something to work on.

But Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome does change, and it changes from moment to moment. A lesson that speaks to me more is the concept of Zanshin. This is not a word we shout for a stronger punch. It is not a kata, a level, or a formality at the beginning and end of class. It is not a part of our uniform, or a move, or an application. Zanshin is integral to our very way of being, and translates to the concept of residual awareness. That is, after a match has ended, or after a kata has finished, one still does not let one's guard down. Zanshin is the concept of always being ready for more, never being unready when the next adventure begins.

Zanshin can be overwhelming for me to follow because I get tired. I get physically, intellectually, and emotionally tired, of always having to take care of my body. If it's possible to have clinical compassion fatigue for one's own body, I've waxed and waned through that state of mind like ocean waves change with the weather and tide. Those waves range from gentle, rippling nonchalance to thrashing, wild swells that can even drown me in their whitecaps. My world becomes very small as I dive into managing my needs. Luckily, at some point I always manage to come up for air. It is in those moments when I break through to the surface that, even with all the air I need, I am forever preparing myself for the next time I will go under. All people experience certain aspects of their lives in waves. With EDS it can be rapid-cycling, or lingering, or stormy for a long time, so it is best to be ready.

What can we do? We can practice the best habits as often as possible: eating well (or managing our tube feeds/TPN), staying hydrated, managing our energy levels, keeping in contact with a healthy support system, and so on. We can educate ourselves: read an anatomy and physiology 101 book, learn basic medical terminology so we can communicate with our doctors, get proper testing to establish baselines for our most vulnerable body parts and systems.

No enemy is going to worry about whether I am ready for the next blow. No ocean concerns itself with the swimmer. The more I learn, the less effort it takes to be ready. Knowledge is power. Zanshin is the practice of being ever ready to use that power when necessary. Zanshin is how one learns to swim through the waves.