Even Doubled Over Isn't Over Enough

Sensei gave lots of verbal instruction and demonstration tonight, so I was able to relax about keeping up. I learned a whole lot of great points about Saifa kata and bunkai. I consider Saifa my best kata, so a while night devoted to it was a treat!

It was especially a treat because this is my first day up after five days doubled over on the couch from gastroparesis pain. I've gone to work and slept, and that's it. Anything to keep the pain down. Nothing touches the pain. It's impossible to breathe without pain. If tonight had been a night to practice Sanchin I'd have been dead in the water.

I learned about how, when your body turns to do the knee-kick, your head turns because you are changing directions, so you need to continue facing the opponent.

In Bunkai we always push the opponent away after an application of the kata. It's a good base strategy to have, but it also signifies awareness (Zanshin) that the opponent is certainly going to attempt to counter your move.

The elbow break move is one of the most interesting bunkai I know. It's so simple, and it would be instantly effective on me, but I don't see myself ever developing enough strength to break the joint on someone else. Still, if I ever get control of my tai otoshi (body drop), maybe I can at least jar the person well and gain control of the limb.

While I rested I watched my karate family practice kakie (push hands). The black belts were more methodical in their movements while the -kyu belts were more aggressive. I enjoyed learning what I could from both groups, and comparing what I knew to what I saw.

It's always a struggle not to cry out in pain. Sometimes I can't help but let out a moan, which is frowned upon in self-defense, because it lets the opponent know you're hurt, and opens you up for further damage. When he's hurt Higaonna-Sensei says, "Thank you very much!" and continues on. Will I be able to cultivate that discipline? I don't know, but it's a good target.  Sometimes the strike or movement is tiny, but it sends a shock through my body like I've had a limb severed. Other times I take a direct hit and I giggle effortlessly. I don't understand nociception (pain perception) in EDS.

I did what I could tonight and was super careful not to push myself. There will be better days for going all out.

It would be arrogant of me to assume that Sensei did so much technical instruction and demonstration just so I could be included, but I can't help but think it delights him every time he sees me get up off the bench. I think most people in my dojo like watching me succeed as much as I like watching them succeed. (Well, maybe not that much--I'm a bit overzealous when they level up!)

After five days on the couch, karate is the first place I could think to go. There's nowhere I'd rather be. I think I've written it before that, die when I may, one of the rooms in my heaven will be just like my dojo. I don't have a lot of expectations for heaven, but it won't be heaven without this room.

Adapting Gekisai Dai Ni Kata

https://youtu.be/0Uydn4yEXe4

Gekisai Dai Ni is my hardest kata. It's extremely hard on my joints because of the rounded techniques, which take place on all three planes of motion: coronal, sagittal, and transverse.

For Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, movements on one plane of motion are best. Movements on two planes of motion are okay. Movements on three planes of motion are a no-no because they most strongly force the joint into a closed-pack  position, with the highest congruency. In plain English, they mash the joint into its socket or capsule the most tightly, which gives it lots of opportunities for the stabilizing tissues to snap, tear, break, sprain, and so on.

Coincidentally, in a hypermobile person, a position at the end ranges of motion, with the most joint congruency, is often the most comfortable: everything is as tight as it can get. Many EDSers enjoy sitting with our legs contorted in unusual positions because, if we pin our legs down as far as they can go in any direction, we at least know where they are, and that they're tight. It gives a false sense of hope that our limbs will stay put. Over time, repeated activity at the end-range of motion will lead to further laxity and weakness. Then, when we need to do normal things in more reasonable ranges of motion, we fall apart easily and don't know why. (Well, now you know why.)

All kata in Okinawan Goju Ryu Karate feature rounded movements ("tripled" movements, when referring to planes of motion). It's one of our fundamental ways of moving, and for some applications it is indeed the most stable and effective.

With EDS, I reduce a lot of my dislocations by simply reducing my range of motion to five degrees fewer than the average person would move (which is 15-20 degrees fewer for me, and I'm EDS Classical Type, not even Hypermobile Type). It took six months to learn to walk this way, and six years to learn to live this way.

In karate, I reduce my stances, especially Sanchin-dachi (Three Battles stance), by just a few degrees. I have three goals with my stances:
1. Don't dislocate
2. Get the same functional outcome
3. Get the same aesthetic outcome

There are times when, curiously, I lose control of my legs. I can be standing, but unable to move. My fellow karateka will sometimes remind me what to do or encourage me to take the next step because the delay is very noticeable, but I'm stuck! EDS is given to neuropathy and radiculopathy, but I've never seen research on momentary paralysis. (Perhaps it's a Chiari-I Malformation thing. I haven't jumped down that rabbit hole of research because I don't have it yet.) I finish the exercise and then take a break. Lack of control of major muscle groups is at least a sign of fatigue.

For upper body movements I have the same goals with my thumbs, shoulder blades, and wrists.  It's even harder with my upper body and I stand a good chance of being sore in the clavicles and ribs for weeks if I ignore those goals. It can interrupt my breathing, and make me even more susceptible to blacking out. I'm getting pretty good at managing it, though. I keep my knees bent and my eyes open until my vision comes back. I don't fall over anymore.

Gekisai Dai Ni is my hardest kata. I took second place in a tournament two days ago, but popped my ankle in the middle of the first neko ashi-dachi (cat stance). Stupidly, I finished the kata, because I didn't fall over, and my head was in "the zone." When I stepped on my busted ankle for the second neko ashi-dachi, I knew I'd made a big mistake. I took care of it immediately after.

My ankle already been coming loose for days and I ignored it, since that's not uncommon. Rookie mistake. I was so pumped for the tournament that I didn't pay attention to my body, and that's where I went wrong. I splinted the next day, but the pain crept up into my knee and hip, so that the whole leg was wrecked by Saturday morning. I missed out on Spirit Training and the karate family Potluck, both of which are highlights of my entire karate life. Instead I'm in bed with my leg elevated, blogging about planes of motion.

For some joints I've learned to finish kata with a dislocated joint, and put the joint back in place later on. It just pops out again if I stop and try to fix it in the middle of a kata. My fellow karateka are used to hearing me popping bones around, so they don't freak out, which is great for my emotional health.

Gekisai Dai Ni is my hardest kata. I need to practice it. I need to modify it and practice that. I could always ask for a different kata, but I want to master it in my own way, even--especially--if I can get through it with adaptation. That's the name of the game.

The best part about my second place ribbon is that the person who took first place has been working very hard on his performance, and he's worked with me on kata a lot! He deserves that blue ribbon, and I'm proud to take second. What a great memory, to compete next to someone who has worked so hard, and for much longer than I have!

Be well.

Some Nightmares Come True, So Do Some Dreams

Five years ago I was facing cervical fusion, going into shock every other day from venous access, stuck to an IV pole for nine hours a day in a nursing station. I couldn't turn my head without passing out and the diagnostic process for Dysautonomia was cloudy. I underwent testing for Chiari-I Malformation, lived in my cervical collar, and suffered overwhelming amounts of physical and psychological pain 24 hours a day.

I didn't know how much time I had left to go on like this or who could help me, but it tanked my life. It bled my savings and retirement dry.

My (ex-)wife was miserable, I was miserable, I was just a few months away from graduating from college which had taken me ten years to complete. My family was furious and "disgusted" with my IV fluids, not convinced that drinking more water was not working. My work was very compassionate but worried about my ability to perform. My friends were scared. I was scared, and fed up. I could not continue pre-med studies.

Three years ago began refusing treatment and my doctor stood up for me (again) to tell my insurance that this was not working. I got my port 28 June 2012 and things got immediately better. By August I could get my port accessed once a week at the nursing station and run my IV fluids at home, during which time I rested, worked, and did physical therapy to rehabilitate myself. I still could not regulate my body temperature or stay conscious over 65°F.

I started practicing karate on 9 October 2012. That was the day my real life began. I could stay conscious if I ran fluids. By November 2012 I was able to access my port by myself (which saved a lot of money!) and I got an IV pump which allowed me to run IV fluids on the go with a backpack. I still follow sterile procedure like my life depends on it--because it does.

My physiotherapist told me, "While you have time, go live. Because when you're lying in that bed, you're going to want those memories."  I had wanted to practice martial arts all my life. No dojo would work with me because they were afraid of liability. Finally I met my Sensei, who let me try, and we were very careful. The rules were (and are) strict, to ensure my safety and success. Everybody was worried about whether I could do it, and I didn't care. I was on death's door with blood pressure collapses and had lost a hold of my dreams. What if this port thing was my last chance at living?

I wanted martial arts. I wanted EDSers to be able to protect themselves. A martial arts seminar showed me there were things I could learn to do; once I knew there was a dream within my reach I wanted it. I told myself that if I died after that, I would conclude that I had been a useful person in this world. I asked God to just give me this one dream, give me one merciful gift before I fell to ruins. I begged for strength, and my port was just enough to bring strength back to me.

I proved to myself I could do it, and set out to inspire others with EDS to learn what they CAN do. Today my dream came true, thanks to my Sensei, my doctors, and my friends.

Today, on 14 August 2015, I co-taught, beside my Sensei, a session on Self-Defense and Martial Arts with EDS and Dysautonomia. We showed people that everybody could do /something/. 

At first people were nervous about what they couldn't do without dislocating. Sensei dispelled their fear using the same basic techniques that I found so grounding: he started with curling the toes. So small a thing, but so simple. I watched a room full of antsy people wiggling little tiny toes, watching those toes intently, and succeeding. The tiny toes curled down into the floor, curled up, and down. The corners of mouths curled up and stayed up.  If only for a moment, a room full of people with EDS found a physical thing that they /could/ do.

It was like we'd unlocked a treasure chest, and the doubtsstarted coming: what about my ankles? What about my balance? What if I can't stand? What if I can't take my shoes off?

Within minutes, those doubts became wonderings: "How can I do this if my ankles are loose?" "Can I do it this way?" "Will it work if I do this instead?"

I understood for a brief moment that what I had done in pursuing martial arts was larger than just overcoming my Dysautonomia and chronic dehydration. Today I changed the way at least one person perceived their body.

Die when I may, I finally feel like I've made at least one satisfying change in this world, one real act of gratitude for all the kindness that has cushioned me along the ridges of a very, very hard life.

Thank you all for your help along the way, and for helping make my dream a reality. I think I  finally feel brave enough to dream again. Yes, I'm ready now.  Onegaishimasu.

Be well.

Stay Tuned

Topics to cover:
Finding a Dojo
Getting Started
"Am I cut out for this?"
"Can my kid do this?"
"Can I afford this?"
Dislocations during practice
IV Fluids during practice
When Injury Happens
Skittish Partners
Reasonable Accommodations / Doctor's Note
Adapting Specific Moves
Technique Is Power

Karate for Life, From Head to Toe

This morning I washed my hair in the sink, which I do when I want to use hot water, because I take cool showers to avoid passing out.  I felt the rug bunching up beneath my toes because I had been gripping it like we practice gripping the floor in karate!  I knocked one of my knees (gently) against the cabinet because I had been keeping my knees slightly bent as I'd practiced in physiotherapy!  This is fantastic!  A year ago I could not have washed my hair easily, and my hair had been shaven short.

Not everyone who practices martial arts will subscribe to martial arts as a lifestyle.  But everyone who practices martial arts will, at some point, observe a lifestyle impact.  Clearly, the lifestyle impact for me has been profound, by the cumulative impact of small changes.  For one thing, I don't fall so much anymore, which means I don't carry my cane so much anymore, which means my hands don't suffer so much, which means I don't suffer so much.

Sensei says it's when we are tired that we need to work the hardest to stay focused.  He also says it's important to focus on the small things, like foot positioning.  These points have worked out well for me, without having to be complex.  Goju Ryu can get complicated, but the most basic elements are straightforward, which helps me stay grounded, with my feet firmly planted, and my toes curled around the rug!

Be well.

When It Gets Tough

Doubling over in full spasm may make it seem like I did my best in karate, and maybe I did! But I missed a cue somewhere that it was time to stop, so I will work on it! It's hard to know when something like that is a one-off or if there's something wrong with what I'm doing.

Since achieving my 4-kyu karate has gotten particularly hard. It used to be challenging, now it's hard. My skin tears open, my feet get shredded from movement, and I am so tired after class that I have to go right to sleep when I get home. But I'm satisfied with my effort, I've had a healthy amount of social interaction, I've had fun, and I fall asleep happy.

Even though I seldom get through a class without breaks I love to be there, and I look forward to going. To manage the pain I take breaks to stretch, manage pain, and hydrate. This morning I had taken a stretch break, and perhaps it would have been better if I had stayed on the bench afterword, but I ask myself, how am I to improve if I don't challenge my boundaries?

Testing boundaries is something we all do from the time we are little and we learn the word "no." The way I grew up, everything was a boundary, the boundaries moved, and it was dangerous to cross those boundaries. The only residual part of that muss with EDS is that the boundaries change, relative to my health that day. But some of the fights and stamina exercises are starting to remind me of those days. It's an opportunity to let those feelings come up and to work through them in a safe and positive environment. However, working with a counselor helps me unpack those memories, so I don't have to worry about sorting them out during a workout. I can acknowledge that they're there, make a mental note to process the memories later, and get back to my exercise. A lot of people start karate because of a traumatic past, whether it be ongoing abuse or an isolated event. It's important to keep those feelings in check because they can make you vulnerable or distract you. I keep it simple by telling myself those are yesterday's feelings, and then I take a second to connect with today's feelings, all infinitely more enjoyable.

My feet and ankles hurt a lot in class. I stop often to put bones back in, or to give them a break. I try not to let it interfere with my kata, and I work through the physiology of kata movements to see if better precision with foot placement can help. It usually does, much to my delight!

Breakfalls are still scary.  I think strategically about whether or not to let my partner drop me to the floor, and most times they do so very gently.  I haven't thought of safe ways to practice falling, but I'll come back to it.

I'm not worried that I won't be able to get to a black belt level. I'll work hard on the technical aspects and do everything I can to maximize my moves. That will take practice, my meds put me into a stupor, and I can't always decide which move to do next. But I think I'm at the proper level at which anybody with my rank would be if they had my challenges, and I trust my Sensei's judgement. He wouldn't promote me if I didn't belong in that rank because it would be unfair and unsafe. We don't work that way in my dojo; egotistical risks are rightly frowned upon.

My greatest ally is my Sensei, of course. With all of this, he is well aware of my situation and he has an incredible way of helping me through. Not once has he ever cut me down, complained, or yelled at me for not being able to do something. If I bring it up he says to just keep coming. He never makes a big deal of it, and it's never been a big deal. I need that. I need a place where my health is not going to cause a big ruckus that comes down on my head unexpectedly.  My whole karate family is great about it.

Not the best blog post, but it's where I am at the moment. Other than that, food is staying down thanks to Phenergan and I've got a little bit of energy back. I just need to keep eating, which I never want to do. But if it helps my karate, I'm in. :)

On my way out of the dojo today one of our teens held the door for me and said, "Good job today." Then I knew that I was on the right track. I love working with our teens. Every time I see them I greet them with genuine enthusiasm and eye contact. They've all picked up on it and they now return the gesture. I love it! They are all working hard to grow into good people, and though my part in that is small, I'm thrilled to have one. They brighten my life, and that's one of the million reasons I love karate!

Be well.

Back In Action!

Since I started karate in 2012 this month is the longest I've gone without attending class. The meds have been too heavy and I have been too sedated to do anything satisfying, let alone the most satisfying thing in my world. I've kept up with my studies, practiced my kata, and made every effort to navigate the medical mess of Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome.

It's been seven years since I began refluxing everything that I ate or drank. I'll spare the details, but it's been a long road. I'm finally getting some answers, or at least a working diagnosis, which is better than having them throw handfuls of pills at me in ill-conceived, but well-intended, attempts at controlling the emesis.

When I read my own descriptions of what I'm going through this sound awfully severe. I've learned to get through it without really noticing, which probably makes it more tolerable. However, in karate we are challenged to face what is hard for us and to gain control of the situation. On some level, it is important that I stay aware and reflect on how my body is changing so that I may take good care of it.Tonight was the first night I got back to the dojo! It was very exciting, I get like a little kid! Karate is the thing to which I most look forward, and some people don't look forward to anything as much as I look forward to karate. I let myself appreciate it with every possible ounce of joy that I am capable of feeling.

My goal tonight was to get through warm-ups. Strategically, I had plans to manage my participation by restricting it to half of what I was asked to do. Imagine my delight when I figured out that a month off from karate has given several joints time to heal, increasing my performance! I did rest, but I also pushed myself. I feel great about it!

It's hard to know when to push and when to rest. There are so many benefits to be gained from both, and just enough danger in too much of either to keep me circumspect. This was a constant problem in physiotherapy. At some point my physiotherapist intimated that she had stopped trying to guess what was wrong, and jumped straight into helping me recover. That little bit of information has been quite useful, in that, I am finally using less brainpower to find the source of problems, and allocating that headspace to resolve, recover, and adapt.

One might consider me a highly sensitive person. As such, it can be so overwhelming go through my body's changes that I somehow detach from having feelings about it, just so I can get through it. That may not be a bad thing, because much of it is a sense of loss about which I can do nothing but grieve. Maybe grief will be useful later, but I don't see it helping me right now. Hopefully it won't creep up on me!