Chronic Pain Lifestyle

Live Life Backwards...A Lesson from Su Doku

      Remember the Seinfeld episode when George does everything exactly the opposite of what he thinks he should do?  Just like living backwards, he does what he thinks must be the wrong thing, but his life instead of crashing is perfect and every decision he makes ends up being exactly right.  This is the episode when he gets the job on the Yankees.

     I was struggling today with a Su Doku puzzle when it occurred to me that I might have the wrong idea on working out the solution.  I was trying to find the boxes in which the 4's could go.  Then I thought, wait I'm doing this all wrong.

     I was about one third of the way into the puzzle, so about 33 of 100 boxes were filled and I was stumped.  So instead of saying 66 boxes remain and 7 4's have to fit somewhere into these 66, I took a different tack: NOT, WHICH BOXES CAN THEY GO INTO, INSTEAD I SEARCHED FOR THE BOXES THEY COULDN'T GO INTO.

     My search became much easier.  Simple process of elimination--get rid of the boxes where the 4's can't go,  and about 70 boxes, filled and empty, were almost immediately eliminated; a little thinking got me to 20.  At that point, it was obvious that 5 of those remaining 20 boxes couldn't hold any other digit except a 4. I filled the automatic 5, 4's, and moved on to my next toughie: 7's, same process, same result.

     By the third digit, enough of the original 66 empty boxes were filled that the rows and columns began filling themselves.  The puzzle solved itself in about 15 minutes.

     Think about this method in the context of a multiple choice exam.  4 possible correct answers, only one of the 4 is correct.  The right answer is already there.  All you have to do is eliminate the incorrect. The remaining answer must be right.  If in this example, you could eliminate the first 3 of 4 possible answers, you wouldn't even have to read the fourth.  It would have to be correct.

     As to our lives, simple problem solving suggests the elimination of those choices that can't be correct, what remains is true and correct.  I think I'll talk more on this subject later. Night all, Colin

Overtime, Strippers and After Shave

Note: The following story is about my former co-workers. Some of the terms like COBRA refer to insurance paperwork. You don't need to really know what those things mean to understand the story. The important thing is that we all worked together. This story is about friendship and teamwork, which is something we all need whether or not we are able to work. We all need to feel like we are part of a group. If we're lucky we will make friends and become part of a group again. I believe that friendships and teamwork with our health providers is an important part of our recovery. We need a team in order to conquer this disease, no one person can do this alone.

Remember just a few years ago when we all still worked together in the old billing department? This time of year was crazy. We were just catching up on transmittals from the end of the year rush, teachers were retiring faster than we could send out their COBRA forms. We were all anxious to take time off and savor the summer Fridays as much as possible.

Before we knew it September would hit us like a blizzard in March. We wouldn’t recover from the influx of mail until sometime in late October or early November. I can remember being very excited if I started working on September mail, in September. That was almost out of reach most years.

We worked a lot of overtime back then and we had a lot of different strategies to help us relieve the stress. Most of them involved picking on Rose.

Remember the company in-service where you could sign-up to learn about a different job? And Rose was giving the talk on being a billing account rep so they gave her a sign to put on her desk so folks could find her?

For years after that, I would tape signs to her ruler and tape that to the back of her chair. Then of course I would raise her chair all the way up when she was away from her desk.

We had a lot of team work back then. We all participated in things, granted they weren’t necessarily work things, but we participated nonetheless. And it brought us closer together. We really functioned like a team, one for all. When one of us was behind on something, we helped that person until they were caught up. No one person was responsible for the success of the department, we were all responsible. We all did what we could to help out.

I remember one year in particular. We had been working a lot of overtime and this week it was no different. We decided that since Thanksgiving was coming up, we should all go out to the Ponderosa in McFarland to see the male strippers they hired for deer hunting widows.

So we all went. Shirley, Rose, Dar, Debbie, Trappy, Me, Shirley’s daughter, Julie Davis, Vickie and probably more folks than I can remember.

When we got inside we all ordered soda. After all we had to work early the next day and I think we had already put in a lot of hours that week. We would be lucky if we could stay awake to watch the show.

We all sat at a table on the right side of the stage, about half way back. There were two younger women sitting to my left. They were doing tequila shooters and telling each other how much they loved each other. We nicknamed them Flopsy and Mopsy. They were pretty drunk.

The show started out mildly enough. A man came out in a tux, told a few jokes, and then it happened. He started to take his clothes off. I don’t know if any of you have ever been to a male strip show and I’m not sure that this is the normal reaction, but we all started to laugh. I mean laugh, stomach hurting, peeing your pants laughing. All of the stress from the overtime was coming out and we were laughing so hard we were crying.

Every time another dancer came out and started to strip, we would start laughing. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed that hard in my life. It felt so good.

Shirley’s daughter and I had our eye on one of the dancers. Funny or not, he was very handsome. We whispered plans to each other about going up and “tipping” this guy. You know, putting money in his g-string. But we had to do this quickly because Trappy had a camera and we sure didn’t want our picture taken.

So when this guy came out and started dancing on one of the tables, we signaled each other,jumped up and ran to the table. She tipped him first and then it was my turn. At this point I want to say that pictures do not always accurately reflect an actual event. In other words I know that it looks like I’m making change for a $20, but I wasn’t . Yes, Trappy got my picture with my hand in a g-string, but I swear it wasn’t as bad as it looks.

After I tipped him, he kissed me. I turned my head so he kissed my cheek. I wasn’t married, but I was living with Jerry and raising his children and I wasn’t interested in ruining a good relationship for someone who uses more hairspray than I do.

During the evening a lot of funny things happened. At one point, one of the guys was dancing on our table and he thought that Dar grabbed him. That almost broke out into a fist fight and believe me that guy would have gotten his butt kicked.

Then we all pitched in a couple of bucks and paid one of the dancers to give Rose a special performance all her own. I didn’t think she was ever going to forgive us for that one.

All in all it was a great night. Flopsy and Mopsy were on a crying jag by the end of the show. I can’t imagine how many shots they had, I’m just glad that we were drinking soda and coffee. We all had to work the next day, very early.

So we went our separate ways and we went home. Jerry was in bed and I was trying to be quiet. I was still kind of laughing about what had happened. Then I got in bed and leaned over to give Jerry a kiss goodnight and he said “Who in the Hell’s after shave is that??”

I guess the stripper guy had a lot of after shave on, and when he kissed my cheek it rubbed off. I remember when I got in the car I thought that I smelled after shave, but I was a smoker so when I lit up in the car, I didn’t smell it anymore.

Jerry wasn’t too happy with me. I guess I can’t blame him, I would be upset if he came home smelling like perfume. Anyway, he wasn’t mad the next day and we put all that behind us. I was still laughing about it for weeks afterward. That is until the company Christmas party, when Trappy passed the pictures around our table. I swear it looks like I’m digging in that g-string for change!!

It’s still funny. I don’t think I’ve laughed that hard since. I doubt very much that any group of co-workers were ever as close as we were. That closeness is what helped us succeed in completing mountains of paperwork each year and taking pride in our work.

I think about that teamwork and the friendships a lot. You feel good when you pull together to get the job done. We kept that feeling of teamwork for many years and it showed in how well we did our jobs. I miss that. We’ve since moved on, we don’t all work together anymore, some don’t even work for the same company anymore. But at one time, we were as close as any friends ever were and that’s a memory I’ll cherish forever.

And just what happened to those incriminating pictures?

You won’t believe this but Trappy’s home was hit by a tornado and the pictures are gone. But not to worry, I don’t think I’ll ever forget that night, neither will my husband.

My Enemy, The Bathroom Scale

There it is, right in the middle of the kitchen. My mortal enemy, the bathroom scale. I’d call it the kitchen scale but then you would think I’m weighing my food and that is just too "Richard Simmon's" for me.

Every day I torture myself by stepping on the scale. I track my weight in a little notebook that I keep on my night stand. When I was at work, I would keep track in my day planner that I kept in my pencil drawer. I can see my coworkers running for my pencil drawer right now, go ahead, I’m not embarrassed. You should see my old day planners when I weighed about 50 pounds more than this. Yikes.

Anyway, since i stopped working in January I’ve gained some weight. I’m the same size that I was when I turned 40. I feel comfortable at this size. I am not too big or too small. I think that I look healthy.

So what is the problem?

It’s that scale. It doesn’t matter how I look. it’s that blasted number on the scale!!

Every morning when I weigh myself, I feel like someone is throwing down a lance and challenging me to change that number. The scale is toying with my emotions. I haven’t gained that much weight, but I feel enormous. Why is the scale my enemy? And why do I even care?

With all of the other things that have happened to my body over the past 4 years, why does my weight even matter? What is inside my head, that makes me believe I am not ok?

The answer of course does not have anything to do with the scale. The scale is not really what’s bothering me. In fact, it doesn’t have anything to do with the scale or the number or my weight or anything else to do with diet.

It’s my life. The number on the scale is where I’ve transferred my attention instead of addressing my real problems, I’m focusing on my weight which really isn’t a problem.

I’m addressing my weight because I’m pretty good at dieting. Even at this age, I can lose weight and get the satisfaction of changing the number on the scale. My weight is something I can control.

It’s the things I can’t control that are the real problem. I can’t control the pain, I can’t control the limits on what I can do. I can’t control the fact that housework is too hard for me and the most I can do is dust and clean sinks. And I can’t control how hard it is to give up my independence.

I love my family and I know that they love me. I think it’s great that they are willing to help me by offering to take me places. But it is really hard for me to give up control. I’m an adult, I should be able to do things for myself. But like most people with AA I can’t.

And do you know what the absolute worst thing is??????

I CAN’T GO TO WORK!!!!

This is a hard day for me. Because I was not able to return to work today, full-time, my employer can post my job vacancy. It’s been 6 months since I worked. I never thought this would be so bad, but it is. I didn’t just lose my job, I lost my independence today. I lost my self-worth and I lost the one thing that I’ve counted on to get me through even the worst of times.

My job has been a saving grace for me. It made me feel good about myself and it made me feel like I mattered. My coworkers were there for all of the good and bad times over the past 19 years. They are more than just friends to me, they are my family. They hugged me during bad times and helped me celebrate the good times. I know that I’m not a lawyer or doctor or anything, but I felt good about the things that we accomplished together. I was a part of a big wonderful family, I belonged.

Now I am a part of a bigger group. The disabled young adults. My Dad was part of this group too. He only worked until he was 40. I can’t imagine the depression that he lived with over his inability to work. He was a postal clerk and his diabetes made it impossible for him to continue working. I never even thought about how hard that must have been for him. Besides enduring constant pain, there is the depression that he surely must have felt. How did he ever get through it? What did he think about and what helped him?

I wish I could ask him now. I wish I would have asked him back then. More than that, I wish I wasn’t here right now. I wish I was at work, with my friends.

I guess that bathroom scale isn’t so scary aferall. In the big picture, the bathroom scale is not nearly as frightening as the “life scale”. The measure of what you are and what you do is much more frightening than any number from a bathroom scale ever could be.

Winds are Named Whence They Came

      Sometimes I read something, like Anne's essay about shoes and people watching, and I wish I'd written it.  Snippy and snide, Anne opens a door and through that door I see her love of ordinary people.  Too bad everyone doesn't feel that way.  By way of response, Anne, these are some of the things I hold close.

     Here are the ten best things about growing up in Boston:

1. The Red Sox transcended all gaps.  Political, religious, generational.  It seems that every Summer the SAWX brought it's fandom to the brink.  But we were smart; we loved them, but didn't trust them at all.  It's just like...
2. Boston Irish Brothers who love one another but wouldn't wouldn't lend so much as a button, quarter, to a sibling.  Money was a funny thing between us.  We freely give, and share even our best...
3. Winter Shorts, knee-length Madras short pants, worn without sox, feet covered in 6 inch Timberlands, topped by a grey hoody and a down vest, completed by a Red Sox baseball hat that had been run through the washing machine until shapeless.  Dishwashers changed that, the top shelf being perfect for conditioning a cap.  Don't forget an elastic, rubber band, securing beneath the brim...
4. An empty Coke can.  Coke was a generic term for any carbonated soft drink.  Root beer, was a root beer coke and orangeade was an orange coke.  Soft drinks were called tonic by really old people, who were addressed as...
5. Mr. and Mrs. Always.  All adults were Mr. or Mrs.
6. Townies, real Bostonians are friendly to strangers when addressed by them first;  the thought being that you'd naturally want to be left alone, not bothered by the locals. The locals of course don't want to be bothered by you either though a certain allowance is made for out of town adult.
7. The smell of my grandmother, Nana's, house.  She's passed, now; but man could she cook.  She was cozy, just like her house.  She had a spinning wheel that was several generations old, I love her. Some of her friends from high school outlived her, though Nana confided to some that many of these folks had "wandered".  My mother is called...
8. Mum, as most mothers in New England.  New England...
9. has four real seasons.  The only crummy one is Spring, which is chilly, windy, and rainy.  Winter and Fall are magnificent.  Summer is hot until August nights, when you can smell fall on the air.  The sky takes the color of lead as Fall breaks to...
10. Winter.  My Favorite season.  As a child we skated on our pond, played pond hockey, lost thousands of pucks, shoveled driveways. And day or night, turned our chins into the first storm of the year.  We'd face whence the wind came, Nor'East.

I wonder if my kids will ever feel this way about where we live now?

You Can Tell an Awful Lot About a Person By Looking at Their Shoes

Over the weekend, I was lucky enough to have a prime “people watching” spot and the time to sit and enjoy it. While I was enjoying my “people watching”, I noticed that you can tell an awful lot about a person by looking at their shoes.

There’s the "Cowboy Boot Guy". These guys were mostly over forty, full head of silver hair, work shirts and jeans. There are a lot of men that fall into this category and it’s interesting because these men dress this way, in dark jeans, boots and shirts on a day when the temperature was over 90. And they didn’t look too warm. I wonder if they have a built in cooling system?

I noticed another category among men. It was "Topsider Guy". These men normally drive Corvettes, Porsches or BMW’s. They also wear gold chains, chew gum, wear polo shirts and either docker pants or docker shorts. They wear their Topsiders with no socks. This is definitely for summer wear only. They wouldn’t be caught dead putting socks on when wearing their Topsiders. These men are either professionals or upper management types and normally they don’t own a boat, but they have friends that do.

There were a lot of women that passed by me this weekend too. First I noticed "Sandal Mom". These women wear t-shirts or polo shirts in a pastel color, embroidered with a little palm tree, or little stars. She is also wearing matching capri pants and sandals. The sandals are either canvas or leather. They have about a 2 inch wedge heel and they walk past, with a “slap,slap,slap” of their shoes.

Sandal Mom is pushing a stroller, wrestling with a diaper bag and a purse all the while trying to catch up with her oldest child now 4 who is running through the crowd of strangers toward the ice cream stand. She is overworked, but yet manages to wear a matching outfit and decent shoes.

She has a name like Kathy, Mary, Julie,etc. She is a nice person, she dresses comfortably and is able to multitask to the point of being an inspiration to the highest paid executives and project manager. Many people are impressed by the number of tasks and the responsibility that these women handle with ease. One Mother’s Day a year is not enough to appreciate what they do.

Then there are the “City Women”. You’ve seen them, they always look like they just walked right off the Carolina Herrera runway and straight to the boardroom.

How I long for those lovely sky high shoes. You know the kind that Carrie had on “Sex and the City”? Beautiful shades of leather or fabric, with straps and buckles and heels 4 inches high at least. They make your legs look long and lean and they make you feel like a princess.

I know that with the right shoes you can feel elegant and sophisticated in a way that is not possible when you are wearing mere loafers. The woman you long to be in your private thoughts is just as far out of reach as the nearest shoe store. The woman you become would never drop her purse and spill the contents all over the lobby of a hotel including various feminine items.

The woman with the beautiful shoes doesn’t even need those things, she’s too good for that. And even if that did happen, men would hurl themselves to the floor to help her, causing a near riot in a scene reminiscent of a fumble at the Super Bowl.

City Woman has hair that always looks nice. She doesn’t worry about heat or humidity because her hair is bouncy and shiny no matter what. Her make-up doesn’t run and her clothes never wrinkle. She has a name like Sloane, or Jordan, or Kate. None of those average names will do. And she can use a fountain pen without looking like she has some fatal skin disease when she’s through.

You try to dislike her, but what is there to dislike? She is smart, well dressed and there are those shoes of hers...

Then there’s me. What can you tell by looking at my shoes? What do they say about me?

I’m the woman who gets lost, drops things, and trips. My hair is all over the place. My clothes wrinkle on hot, humid summer days and I sweat.

I wear good, sturdy, low heeled shoes. There is no mistaking why I buy my shoes, it’s because they are comfortable, have good support and are made well. I do not and can not look at them with any thought other than, how will my feet feel and what is this going to do to my back? It’s hard to fall in love with shoes with that description.

I prefer my bermuda shorts and wrinkled polo shirt with sensible shoes and just a dash of dog hair. I’m sure that the people who “people watch” me know someone just like me and are not at all surprised when I drop my purse. Men don’t hurl themselves to the floor to help me, and no woman has ever told me she envies me my shoes. Just call me “Sensible Shoes Woman”. I’ll wear that title with pride.

But take a look at my collection of purses and see other women start to drool. I may not have the most desirable shoes, but I can carry a purse and I have the collection to prove it. From the beautiful clutch, to the largest shoulder bag. I have a collection I am proud of. And I can assure you, I didn’t buy any of them because they were sensible.

I may not be able to teeter around in beautiful high heels anymore, but my purses can take the place of those lovely shoes anytime. Just like my health, I have back problems, but the rest of me is just fine. I can’t go to work or scrub my own floors, but I can do other things to be helpful and useful. Regardless of what City Woman is doing, I’m learning that Sensible Shoes Woman is to be admired for the many things she can do. I guess shoes don’t make the woman afterall. Purses either.

...To Fight the Unbeatable Foe...

      Bob Cowser, Jr. is an associate professor of English at St. Lawrence University in the Adirondack Mountains in upstate NY.   He'd already achieved by the age of 30, many things that took me another decade to complete.  For example, I write bad poetry, but by the time I'd graduated college had several of my poems published in obscure poetry journals.  I think one of them was named "Sluts and Slobs, quarterly.

     Cower, on the other hand, has a PhD. in creative writing and is regularly published in high tone magazines.  He's also written a book, which I haven't yet done.  I'm not resentful of any of that stuff.

      Cower's book, Dream Season,  is a diary of his misadventures as a semi-pro football player on the "Watertown Red and Black", the oldest semi-pro football team in the country that traces its' roots back to 1895.

      At the age of 30, he tried out, made the team, and played a season.  Unique to football is that it is a violent collision sport.  Anyone who's ever suited-up, and played knows the enormous physical demand 60 minutes of hitting heaps on ones body.  Even now, when their is more and better medical care, most profession football players die decades before the non-combatant peers.

     What I most admire about Bob Cowser is that he did what he wasn't supposed to be able to do.  He was committed to suiting-up just one more time. He needed to know if he could still play.  Truth stranger than fiction, an impossible dream is possible, is likely then is reality.

     What is your impossible dream?  You will be surprised that some of those dreams are like Bob Cowser's; that those dreams are not just possible, but with the right mix of passion and commitment, also likely.  Hell, with enough belief in yourself, your dream might be inevitable.

     Step #15 to a better life is to write 5 of your impossible dreams.  Do you want to say hi to Paul Newman? Do you want to stand on the mound at Wrigley Field?  Do you want to see your screenplay on the "big" screen?  Do you want to see a Glacier?  Drink a glass full of water from the Amazon?

      What the heck do you want?  I make 2 promises:

1. Whatever you want, it's already been done.
2. The person or people who did it, before they did anything, decided to do it.

     I'm creating a new site dedicated to helping you reach these goals.  Not surprising, but it's a relatively simple thing to meet the President.  I'll create this site based on feedback.  If I get enough, I'll build the site and put your dreams with my own. It shouldn't surprise you, but helping you, helps me.  God bless, Colin

    

Don't Think Twice, It's Alright

      I was born in '59.  I think more occurred in these formative years than in many decades, ever.  I was a kid and by the age of 10, after a decade of life, these things had happened:

1. American kids were called to fight in the tiny country of Vietnam.  50,000 of them died. Most of them were poor, uneducated, young, and conscripted.  The nation was split, sometimes violently (Kent State), between those who opposed the war, and those who did not. The soldiers themselves were largely apolitical.  When the soldiers returned, dead disabled or otherwise, they were wrongfully blamed for the war.  As a nation we may not live down our heinous treatment of these men.  The war was on TV.
2. JFK was assassinated.  Martin Luther King was assassinated.  Bobby Kennedy was assassinated. Malcolm X was assassinated.  One of my first memories was of my mother crying at the kitchen sink, radio on, as the broadcasters talked about JFK.
3. We walked on the Moon.  Many times in grammar school I sat through interminable broadcasts of NASA events.
4. Hippies.  They were nice to kids.
5. Woodstock. Hard to imagine even in this day.  If you haven't seen the site in White Lake, NY (about 2 hours NW of NYC) then go.  Strangely it hasn't changed much. The roads are pretty, narrow and twisting to Max Yazgar's farm. Watch the movie, then marvel at the spectacle it must have been. Many of the locals are still alive.
6. The Red Sox played in the '67 Series.  Red Sox fans call the "67 Series" the "Impossible Dream."  It cost $1.00 to buy a bleacher seat, or you could wait until the 7Th inning stretch, when they opened the gates and a fan could walk in for nothing.
7. Music changed forever.  I mean all popular music. Topics that were just, "not spoken of in polite society", became fodder for all songs.
8. Race relations: When I was very young, much of the South was still segregated.  This issue was divisive enough that many leaders in the civil rights movement were always in danger of their lives.  Lynchings still occurred.  Among factions within with Black and White leadership ran from extremists, Lester Maddux and George Wallace, to the Black Panthers, all advocating violent solutions, to moderate voices. The issue still rages.  Many cities suffered the horror of race riots, Newark, NJ for example.
9. Generation Gap.  As Blacks and Whites fought for a middle ground, so did the young and the old.  The status quo from previous generations was under fire, typically at Democratic and Republican National Conventions.  These were also violent confrontations.  Students seized buildings at Universities, Columbia, for example; and were shot for their trouble-making ways (Kent State).
10. Do Your Thing:  Free Love, Drugs, particularly LSD, as a mind expanding experience.  This was a fundamental mantra of Hippie/Yippie culture, which spawned the creation of communes.

     There's a lot more to be said about all of these topics, and I'm sure I've missed a few.  My point is that the '60's were a wonderful time to be a kid.  It was the decade when everything changed.  We know this because Walter Cronkite told us.

     I was listening to some old Bob Dylan stuff, Highway 61, Revisited, and The Freewheeling Bob Dylan.  My kids liked it.  I tried to explain, but they didn't understand.

     Take this Step #14, Don't think twice its alright.  Forgive them All.

Willpower, Medicine, and Warriors

         I remember first meeting Colin and his wife in my office. He stormed in with his wife and practically demanded to be treated even though I was just concluding a visit with another patient. The point of telling this is because Colin is a man of action who lives his life by proactively doing not trying. He either does or doesn’t and he lives his life that way.
          I felt Colin’s senses examining me when he asked for my explanation of how the acupuncture worked. I explained it to him in Chinese and Western terms, and he was of course as skeptical as his wife, who is a doctor. I explained my background and how and why I got into Traditional Chinese Medicine.
          I was also a martial artist since the age of 12, officially studying with my first mentor Shaolin Master Tsong yuan Ho in Pennsylvania. I loved the theories and principles involved in understanding traditional martial arts. I personally felt that to improve my abilities and kung fu levels, I had to understand the theories and manipulation of "qi", inner strength. The study of healing would lead me down this path. Thus, I became an acupuncturist and herbalist in addition to a martial artist.

        To further enhance my sensitivity to qi and healing I then dedicated my martial arts practice to studying "Taiji" under Master Zhang Yun. After completing my acupuncture training and becoming a disciple of the Yin Cheng Gong Fa internal martial arts family, I began my journey, as Colin would call it, as a warrior-healer. My warrior spirit doesn’t let me quit, my healer spirit tells me to slow down and pace myself. My taiji spirit often teaches me balance.
          Colin’s arachoiditis has been one of the most difficult lower back injuries to treat that I've encountered. He is always on severe pain killers, which have many side effects and he never gets complete relief from the pain.
Colin has tried many treatments and utilizes everything at this disposal; he even had an electrical device implanted in his hip that shoots electrical impulses into the nerves in his spine and he did it because he wanted to be more functional for his family. He is a father and husband and cares deeply about his inadequacies towards his family.
          When I began treating Colin, I had high hopes of being the "magic bullet" of his disease. Many, many times I am.
I incorporate every acupuncture technique on Colin from needling the his body to bleeding his toes to sticking ear acupuncture points in his ear lobe; everything helped but none of it had long lasting effects. We try and try and I admit even I get frustrated because my needles, my art, could not repair the spinal tissue of the arachnoidal membrane.
          When I treat Colin, I definitely give him clarity of mind and exceptional pain relief, however the effects of a session only last for a day. All the other days he is in constant pain. Sometimes Colin sees me 3 days of the week. I figure if he sees me 3 days a week for 52 weeks then I gave him a day without pain for almost ½ a year and this make me, and more importantly him, feel a little better.
          For now, this is our victory. It's good, but together, we'll do better. We keep trying; and he impresses me with his own warrior-like, unbreakable willpower to never give up!  Colin has put his heart and soul into a body that exists beyond all of our physical bodies. The website he created with Anne, has helped him to express and show his many abilities, which he has learned in his life that made him the powerful man which he still is today. I enjoy treating Colin because it feels like two different tribal warriors combining our wills and experiences to find amazing solutions.
          I treat many people in my private practice and I use Chinese medicine because it taps into the body’s natural healing tendency. What I do is figure out how to encourage the body to heal itself more rapidly.
         Chinese medicine has existed for 5000 years and before was only available to the Emperor of China and the elite upper classes. Thankfully today it is offered to everyone in China and now to the west. Here it is often considered an alternative therapy but in China it is considered THE therapy. People in China survive with less pharmaceutical drugs then their western counterparts because of Chinese medicine. If you had a very bad cold would you want a cup of tea or a cocktail of drugs replete with side effects.  What if you didn't have a choice. Those side effects are cause by poisons. Does Nyquil make you better, or does it just knock you out. It's loaded with alcohol, which of course is a poison when taken at high levels. It's tough to poison yourself with tea.

Sometimes the cure is worse than the disease.

Please email me at [email protected]  if you have any questions.
Sincerely,
Clayton Shiu
Check out more about me at:
www.harlemhealingarts.com

Your traditional chinese medicine Resource

As Colin's acupuncturist i would like to offer my expertise in a 5,000 year old eastern medical system and answer any questions which you may have concerning how Chinese medicine can improve your quality of life. Working with Colin has so far been an enriching and rewarding experience and i would like to broaden the experience with visitors from his site as best I can.  If you doubt my offer of help, I understand; please understand that my practice is limitted to about a ten mile radius North of NYC.  I'll answer questions from around the globe,

email me directly at [email protected]

Peace,
Clayton Shiu L. Ac.
Director of harlem healing arts wellness center
Sifu of Zhi Cheng School of Northern Kung Fu
www.harlemhealingarts.com

Step # 13 of 100 Steps to a Better Life: If You See What Could Be a Life-Line, Grab it.  If You're Wrong, Let Go.

Life is Not Like a Box of Chocolates

I have several confessions to make and I hope they don’t offend anyone, but it’s time for “the airing of grievances” as Frank Costanza would proclaim during Festivus on Seinfeld. I love Frank and Estelle, they yell when they are mad. That my friend is normal behavior by the way.

1. Here is a list of the movies I absolutely hate:

Titanic-too long, I didn’t care about Leo and I think he was too young to be the male romantic lead in an “epic” picture or even this one.

Forest Gump-Ok I get it, through a series of events and dumb luck he ends up in the end with a son and a “normal, happy life”, he succeeds at everything and it is really heart-wrenching. I thought it was just long and boring. I know it’s a sweet story, but come on, how long was that movie?

Dirty Dancing-I don’t get this movie. I am supposed to be cheering for a dance instructor who seduces a teenager and helps his partner through an abortion? I don’t think he is attractive enough for me to cheer about anything he did. Basically they were just a bunch of horny underpaid resort workers who didn’t have air conditioning. And give me a break on the “Baby” nickname. Enough already.

2. I really don’t think that those calendars with babies posed inside plants or dressed up like bunnies or any of those other cutsie things are all that cute. I think babies are cute on their own, they don’t need costumes and props to be cute and I don’t want them on my calendar unless I actually know the baby in question.

3. Am I the only one who can’t listen to an entire song sung by any one of the following singers? (and I use that term loosely). Mariah Carey, Christina Aguilera, and this is the worst of them all Barbra Streisand.

Their voices go through my head like a nail. I get a headache just thinking about Barbra and “Love, soft as an easy chair”. I know that song really well because it was my sister Mary’s wedding song. I love my sister, her wedding was beautiful but I have to be honest, I detest that song.

4. I think that women who pretend they don’t want dessert are phonies. If my husband takes me somewhere for dinner and I want dessert, I order it. I’m not afraid of my weight, I’m more afraid of not enjoying myself for as long as I can. If I don’t have diabetes or some other health problem and I want dessert, I’m going to have it.

5.I really can’t stand people that compile lists of things to complain about.

Gottcha........

I don’t want to be predictable and bore you guys and I don’t want to complain in everything I write.

I think it’s ok to complain as long as it doesn’t become your every day behavior. All of the things I listed above are true for me. But I don’t talk about it every day and I don’t mention any of these things to my family or friends unless someone asks.

I don’t want to become the person that complains about everything. I think that’s very easy to do when you are in pain and disabled. We even have a good excuse for doing it. I’m sure if I suddenly started complaining about everything people would let me get away with it for a while. Then if it continued, I would expect that people would stop wanting to see me, call me or talk to me. Eventually I would have the reputation as a complainer and it would cause me to lose touch with friends and family.

I need my friends and family now more than ever. So rather than becoming an expert complainer, I’ll just keep these things to myself unless you ask. Or unless I’m invited to a Festivus Celebration.

:) Anne

PS. Did I mention I detest the sideways smiley thing :)........