Oct
12
Lack of Movement Creates Lack of Movement
October 12, 2009 | Leave a Comment
Lack Of Movement Creates Lack Of Movement
Years ago, I remember sitting on an old tractor, all rusted and aged, that sat at the edge of a field. How amazed I was when I was told that it still ran despite its appearance and that it was still one of the valued, working farm machines the farmer used. Much oil and constant care must have been part of its regimen to keep it moving along and preventing it from being hauled off to the outer corner of the North 40 where all broken-down and worn-out pieces of farm machinery were placed to rest. But to the kids who visited the farm, this graveyard of sorts, was a hands-on playground of exploration into the past lifeblood of the farm.
At what point does a worn tool or part become too costly to maintain, or too damaged to repair? When is the decision made to shut all operations down and put that particular masterpiece to rest – no longer able to do those things it was designed to do? And who ultimately makes that decision?
I can tell you one thing: That old tractor had a caretaker, whether it was the farmer or a farmhand, who valued it so much that it was oiled, lubed, and moved often in order to keep it running. If it ever had been neglected to the point of having its parts seized up, someone painstakingly, and most likely with loving care, brought it back to life by tending to the areas that had trouble moving in its aged and locked-up state.
With this in mind, I have a son who is looking to buy his first car, which will possibly be a thirty-year-old European four door beauty that has obviously, been cared for and loved through its days. In a throwaway society of excess and materialism, it is wonderful to see a sixteen-year-old boy value and see the beauty in this old car as the farmer did his old tractor.
I marvel at our own bodies that we are the caretakers of, and liken them to the machines that, at younger stages, ran without flaw, yet in their older state may not be cared for in the manner which these masterpieces deserve.
How often do we have aches, pains, or discomforts that stop us in our tracks? Do we tend to use those signs to allow us to stop operation without seeing if that lack of operation may lead to other areas going into atrophy?
In many cases, we have been conditioned into believing that if it hurts you must stop doing anything to make the pain go away. This belief, in my opinion, has lead to far too many individuals living out their latter years put out to pasture in the North 40, still living yet not moving and working in the manner for which they were designed.
Many years ago I had a life lesson taught to me, what I consider one of my greatest lessons of clarity, brought through the challenges of a ten-year-old boy, my son Landon. He had many scrapes and falls as a child with pain being pretty much an ongoing part of his life. However, we learned that his back pain was more than something that could be dealt with by a bit of rest and Motrin. After an MRI revealed that our perfect ten-year-old was not born with a perfect body, we started on a new journey of doctors, specialists, and more doctors to find answers to a very troubling diagnosis. To make a long story short, we were told that fateful day in September that Landon had the bad back of a 70 year-old with all of his discs dehydrated, 40% loss in some of them, 5mm tears in others, and that he would most likely end up in a wheelchair some day. As I sat in our van consoling this young child who had just been told he was no longer allowed to run, jump, or do any sports (other than swim) that young boys his age live for, I remember telling him that with all of the research being done on the spine due to Christopher Reeve’s (Superman) quadriplegic state he would possibly be the beneficiary of that knowledge, and it would keep him out of a wheelchair.
The story goes on to an eight-month period that followed that day and an office visit to the fifth doctor, an orthopedic specialist who a friend had referred. By this point, Landon’s condition had become debilitating, where much of his week was spent in pain confined to his bed or the couch. Within this short period of time, I saw my son go from a lively ten-year-old with periodic pain to an eleven-year-old with chronic pain most of his days. In frustration I remember sitting across the room of this new doctor, and after the review of Landon’s medical history, I stated, “I’ve decided that I’m firing my doctors! Their counsel has taken a lively, active child to almost a crippled state in a very short period of time.” I then let him know that through all my personal research I’d come to the conclusion that, by following the doctor’s orders to keep him still, “Lack of movement has created more lack of movement.” I then stated that I also had made a decision to give my son all of his activities back, but teach him to be the caretaker of his own body and to give him responsibility to manage it wisely. I figured that he was the only one who could be tuned in well enough to know what could hurt and what could heal. So, along with that, I prayed that he would have the maturity to take on this responsibility.
The months that followed were so revealing. Landon learned very quickly that he should not do activities that caused a twisting motion, such as rollerblading. Yet, skateboarding and biking were fine as long as he used his legs as shock absorbers. So, as he began to move, he gained strength in his core and became a reasonably healthy and happy child again.
It has been five years since that decision was made and to see him now you would never know that he has these challenges to manage. He has become an accomplished rock climber, mountain biker, and swimmer and has strength in his being that has brought a pain-managed life with little to no medication to help him in this process.
I marvel at the lessons of courage and strength given through this, now sixteen-year-old young man, who chooses never to complain of his trials. So, two days ago, as I was told by a neurologist, after a battery of nerve testing was performed, the chronic pain I feel in my left arm is caused by impedance to the nerves further up on my torso, and could most likely need corrective surgery. I smiled and said, “It is what it is . . . just another chapter in my story.”
So, I continue to use the arm and with motions and movement that I get through mountain biking, shadow boxing, push-ups, pull-ups, and stretching, I hope to break up any scar tissue or fluid buildup that may be the source of the problem. As I move my arm, the pain seems to lessen and, as I sit here writing my blog, I feel gratitude for my knowledge that “Lack of movement creates lack of movement.”
This body is far from being ready to be placed in the outer corner of the North 40, and I am tending to the areas that have been locked up and have trouble moving. Even though it isn’t exactly young, my body will be treated and loved as the treasure it is. I shall continue to move and gain strength and bring life back to my broken parts in hopes that they will once again work in the manner for which they were designed. In my case I fully expect that movement will create movement.