I want to finish by outlining two aspects of therapy I have come to use and trust. First is EASY REPETITION, and second is BODY AWARENESS.
From the outset, repetition is a mainstay of neurorehabilitation: sit-to-stand, GRASP, both drill the message home. Do it, do it again, do it forwards, do it backwards, don't stop, stopping is for cowards. Now let's try that one more time. It's relentless. And it works.
Taking the repetition regimes home when you leave hospital puts you in a spot. Many carry on, with various exercises tailored to their own needs. But to make it stick for the long term, you need to find a routine you can live with. Many soon get bored because, hey, it's, like, a bit repetitive...
My own method is to work out what works for me. Shoelaces were impossible to begin with, got to be frustrating after about 2 years, then settled somewhere between irritating and annoying. But I never once thought of giving up on them, selling out and stepping into slip-ons. Now, after five years, they are still a nuisance, but an easily tolerated nuisance. The same is true for washing my hair in the shower. At first it was dangerous, now it is a 'bilateral 'pleasure.
So the trick for me was to find fun, or at least a curious interest in the things I knew I'd need to do for the rest of my life. That way I will not only continue the repetition but find enjoyment from doing it. I have become really quite good at emptying the washing machine with my left hand.
Body Awareness for me came mainly from the repetitive exercises I do in the gym: discovering that a session on the recumbent bike to strengthen my legs was also a chance to poke my shoulder blades into the back of the seat. This exercises your subscapular muscles, I'm told..
Once discovered, these moments of comfortable compatibility with therapy, when doing beneficial exercises doesn't actually seem like exercising at all, can take some getting used to. Walking with a tight core, pelvis sticking out front, can feel self-consciously strange. The word 'mincing' springs to mind.
But once you know how to spot the signs, the invitation to better understand your body and its movement can be genuinely revealing. Not long ago I was getting some balance therapy at London's National Hospital for Neurology and Neurosurgery (NHNN). I did something called 'Tandem Walking', which involves walking heel-to-toe in a straight line. It was tough for me, until I tried it at home, whereupon I started to cheat by using my walking stick lightly to stop me tippling over. I confessed this at my next therapy session and Hannah, the physio, staightaway drilled me in 'Tandem Walking With A Stick'. This, I now understand, will one day result in 'Tandem Walking Without A Stick', but for the time being I am enjoying my 'Tandem Walking'. One cheeky young member of our family calls it my 'Supermodel Catwalk'. I transferred the routine to the treadmill in the gym and a once-boring exercise machine is now my personal dancefloor.
So it is goodbye to Neuro Billy and welcome Scrapbook Billy, where my neuro activities will sit side by side with everything else I do: writing a diary, drawing and painting, travel, teaching, and anything else that comes along. I see this moment as some sort of progress, which I suppose is how it's meant to be.
Body Awareness for me came mainly from the repetitive exercises I do in the gym: discovering that a session on the recumbent bike to strengthen my legs was also a chance to poke my shoulder blades into the back of the seat. This exercises your subscapular muscles, I'm told..
Once discovered, these moments of comfortable compatibility with therapy, when doing beneficial exercises doesn't actually seem like exercising at all, can take some getting used to. Walking with a tight core, pelvis sticking out front, can feel self-consciously strange. The word 'mincing' springs to mind.
But once you know how to spot the signs, the invitation to better understand your body and its movement can be genuinely revealing. Not long ago I was getting some balance therapy at London's National Hospital for Neurology and Neurosurgery (NHNN). I did something called 'Tandem Walking', which involves walking heel-to-toe in a straight line. It was tough for me, until I tried it at home, whereupon I started to cheat by using my walking stick lightly to stop me tippling over. I confessed this at my next therapy session and Hannah, the physio, staightaway drilled me in 'Tandem Walking With A Stick'. This, I now understand, will one day result in 'Tandem Walking Without A Stick', but for the time being I am enjoying my 'Tandem Walking'. One cheeky young member of our family calls it my 'Supermodel Catwalk'. I transferred the routine to the treadmill in the gym and a once-boring exercise machine is now my personal dancefloor.
So it is goodbye to Neuro Billy and welcome Scrapbook Billy, where my neuro activities will sit side by side with everything else I do: writing a diary, drawing and painting, travel, teaching, and anything else that comes along. I see this moment as some sort of progress, which I suppose is how it's meant to be.
