It was April 1985. I distinctly remember scooting over into the bucket seat of the 1972 Mach I Mustang that my then boyfriend was driving. I had just come home from working at my new job in Great Adventure...and although I was only 16, my boss had kept me late because we had limited coverage, and thus I was "late" to meet my boyfriend and go to a party that he wanted to attend. You get it - he was in, "a mood." My attempts to console him that it was okay to only attend the party briefly and still return me in time for my curfew, fell on deft ears. He hit the gas and we went sailing down the road. I slid back into my bucket seat, and remember tucking the lap belt back into position due to the slack that I had on it after trying to move closer to him. I remember looking out the window into the dark night when suddenly my evening - and my life - changed forever.
The incident happened quickly. Perhaps too quick to remember in detail. There was a slam, a harsh bang, and lots of metal and glass breaking around me. The next thing that I remember was being upside down, hanging from the lap belt. My boyfriend was pulling my passenger side door open and trying to move me out. I was in shock. I hadn't registered what had happened yet. I was unable to talk or move...until I felt the pain...and then I found my voice.
The compression fracture to my spine at Thoracic 12 led to a hospital stay. The plastic brace that I was issued needed to be worn for several months to establish enough integrity in my body to keep my spine upright without pain. I was turning seventeen, I was young, and I "healed" quickly according to the doctors. Because I knew everything there was to know about the world at that time in my life, I thought that I had moved on from this incident, and I wanted to forget the past, forgive, and forget. That was my seventeen year-old-self's master plan.
By my mid-twenties I had developed severe and chronic back pain due to the fracture. Doctors threw around the word "surgery," and I ran like hell away. I tried physical therapy - multiple times. From suggestions of others I tried working-out at the gym, chiropractors and acupuncture. Eventually, I even went to yoga (and you know how that turned out). I am now 50 years old. And the 50-year old with the physical limitations and arthritic back from the compression fracture that still remains does not want to accept that this is it. The yoga teacher in me still seeks alternative methods of rebuilding this injury. And the little girl inside still wants to forget it all ever happened.
I am fully convinced that had I not found yoga, I might be in a wheelchair. Don't ask me why or how I know...I just do. And while yoga has kept me going, it hasn't "fixed" the problem. I am still broken, quite literally. Some days I feel some pain - some days I feel great. The weather plays a great role in that, and I am sure that a life in NJ will one day no longer exist for me as I search for a dryer, warmer climate. I cannot avoid my physical and verbal response when driving in the car with a man who wants to go fast - its in my cells no matter who the man is. And, the emotional attachment at the fracture site is something that I tip-toe through from time to time, but never fully dive into. It is just too much sometimes to bear.
Three years ago when I was in India, I spoke to the highly recommended Ayurvedic doctor in the Sivananda Ashram. He asked me what was wrong and I explained my T-12 compression fracture. He looked at me quite confused. He said, "usually we do not see compression fractures in the thoracic region. There is really nothing I can do for you."
I appreciated his honesty.
Thailand: 2019 yoga retreat. I LOVE Thailand. You know this if you read anything that I write or follow anything on social media. The land is in my blood somewhere and on my mind a lot. I love everything about Thailand, and I love even more that I get to share it with others. So, there I am on a yoga retreat with eight lovely woman, sharing the Thai culture. We had just returned from service work at a school for 650 orphaned and hill-tribe kids. The mood was somber and we had the evening off. I decided to head to a local place that I frequent where (at least before) they taught Thai Massage. My friend went with me.
The lovely woman who began to work on me gently and sweetly asked if she could walk on my back - a technique used in the villages called yam kaeng, but one that I had never had before. Something in me said, "ok." She seemed like such a sweet, gentle lady.
HOLY SHIT! The pressure on my back near my fracture was mind-blowing. I asked her to stop repeatedly. She said it was tight and needed to be worked out. I said, yes, because it is broken! She giggled. Thai people giggle a lot when we Americans say funny things. I tried to breathe through it, but eventually I told her that she had to stop. Well, maybe it was over anyway. I don't remember. It was a 2-hour massage...and the part around my back was intense.
Just as soon as I sat up, I ran into the bathroom and vomited.
Interesting.
Now, there are two schools of thought here - one says, it was too much, too hard, and thus the warranted response. The other says, "wow, Tracey, some toxins in there, huh!?"
I'm not saying which methodology I subscribe to. But, for the next 24 hours I was extremely sick. I felt a purging in my body like one I hadn't felt in some time. The pain along my fracture felt like it had 33 years ago that night in April - excruciating. I may have been in the bathroom sick every few minutes, but the intense pain in my back was tied to the whole thing. Luckily that day I had secured a tour and I sent my group on it while I stayed back at the hotel - reliving the pain, the emotions, and the energy that I spent, well, 33 years perhaps, avoiding. I had advil on me, but I couldn't take it because I couldn't keep food down. And I just knew that I had to go through this...alone...feel, and just be with it. It just was what it was.
Th next day I felt a little nauseous. The Thai people even got me antibiotics (by the way, antibiotics, anti-nausea medicine and electrolyte packets cost about $3 USD there...just saying...). However, the pain was gone. That immense, intense, "just make it F-ING STOP!" pain, was just suddenly...gone. And, in fact, my back felt amazingly strong and open.
Two weeks later, while on the relatively undeveloped island of Koh Yao Yai, I met a man named Dr. Saad. He is a blind medical massage therapist. A third-generation medical healer, Dr. Saad has been practicing his brand of Thai Massage for 38 years now in this small straw cottage with no windows, overlooking a field with water buffalos and various other animals and birds.
I figured, "Why Not?"
Dr. Saad soon focused right in on my same fractured spinal area. He said the muscles there were very tight. He told me that sitting in the yogic seated position (Padmasana) was part of the problem - that the energy channels in the back get blocked by doing this. I got it right away. I had already deduced that this position was no longer serving me and my practice and had begun using Hero pose much more of the time.
After two weeks of feeling really good in my back, Dr. Saad went about moving some more energy out. It was painful, but not horribly so. Apparently, there is still some work to do there.
Oh, and Dr. Saad is also a bone-setter. I didn't realize this before booking the appointment. This is a form of chiropractic work that the old villages use in remote areas. Dr. Saad has it down. And I survived. But before leaving he told me that I needed at least two more sessions to "heal" the issue. And, of course, I was leaving in a day. I could have gone back one more time, but I decided not to. I decided to take my last full day on the island and enjoy it rather than the potential of more purging of toxins in my room.
The incident happened quickly. Perhaps too quick to remember in detail. There was a slam, a harsh bang, and lots of metal and glass breaking around me. The next thing that I remember was being upside down, hanging from the lap belt. My boyfriend was pulling my passenger side door open and trying to move me out. I was in shock. I hadn't registered what had happened yet. I was unable to talk or move...until I felt the pain...and then I found my voice.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
The compression fracture to my spine at Thoracic 12 led to a hospital stay. The plastic brace that I was issued needed to be worn for several months to establish enough integrity in my body to keep my spine upright without pain. I was turning seventeen, I was young, and I "healed" quickly according to the doctors. Because I knew everything there was to know about the world at that time in my life, I thought that I had moved on from this incident, and I wanted to forget the past, forgive, and forget. That was my seventeen year-old-self's master plan.
By my mid-twenties I had developed severe and chronic back pain due to the fracture. Doctors threw around the word "surgery," and I ran like hell away. I tried physical therapy - multiple times. From suggestions of others I tried working-out at the gym, chiropractors and acupuncture. Eventually, I even went to yoga (and you know how that turned out). I am now 50 years old. And the 50-year old with the physical limitations and arthritic back from the compression fracture that still remains does not want to accept that this is it. The yoga teacher in me still seeks alternative methods of rebuilding this injury. And the little girl inside still wants to forget it all ever happened.
I am fully convinced that had I not found yoga, I might be in a wheelchair. Don't ask me why or how I know...I just do. And while yoga has kept me going, it hasn't "fixed" the problem. I am still broken, quite literally. Some days I feel some pain - some days I feel great. The weather plays a great role in that, and I am sure that a life in NJ will one day no longer exist for me as I search for a dryer, warmer climate. I cannot avoid my physical and verbal response when driving in the car with a man who wants to go fast - its in my cells no matter who the man is. And, the emotional attachment at the fracture site is something that I tip-toe through from time to time, but never fully dive into. It is just too much sometimes to bear.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Three years ago when I was in India, I spoke to the highly recommended Ayurvedic doctor in the Sivananda Ashram. He asked me what was wrong and I explained my T-12 compression fracture. He looked at me quite confused. He said, "usually we do not see compression fractures in the thoracic region. There is really nothing I can do for you."
I appreciated his honesty.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
The lovely woman who began to work on me gently and sweetly asked if she could walk on my back - a technique used in the villages called yam kaeng, but one that I had never had before. Something in me said, "ok." She seemed like such a sweet, gentle lady.
HOLY SHIT! The pressure on my back near my fracture was mind-blowing. I asked her to stop repeatedly. She said it was tight and needed to be worked out. I said, yes, because it is broken! She giggled. Thai people giggle a lot when we Americans say funny things. I tried to breathe through it, but eventually I told her that she had to stop. Well, maybe it was over anyway. I don't remember. It was a 2-hour massage...and the part around my back was intense.
 |
| This is Sara - she is an amazing Thai Bodyworker and Teacher. She is NOT the woman I am referring to. |
Interesting.
Now, there are two schools of thought here - one says, it was too much, too hard, and thus the warranted response. The other says, "wow, Tracey, some toxins in there, huh!?"
I'm not saying which methodology I subscribe to. But, for the next 24 hours I was extremely sick. I felt a purging in my body like one I hadn't felt in some time. The pain along my fracture felt like it had 33 years ago that night in April - excruciating. I may have been in the bathroom sick every few minutes, but the intense pain in my back was tied to the whole thing. Luckily that day I had secured a tour and I sent my group on it while I stayed back at the hotel - reliving the pain, the emotions, and the energy that I spent, well, 33 years perhaps, avoiding. I had advil on me, but I couldn't take it because I couldn't keep food down. And I just knew that I had to go through this...alone...feel, and just be with it. It just was what it was.
Th next day I felt a little nauseous. The Thai people even got me antibiotics (by the way, antibiotics, anti-nausea medicine and electrolyte packets cost about $3 USD there...just saying...). However, the pain was gone. That immense, intense, "just make it F-ING STOP!" pain, was just suddenly...gone. And, in fact, my back felt amazingly strong and open.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Two weeks later, while on the relatively undeveloped island of Koh Yao Yai, I met a man named Dr. Saad. He is a blind medical massage therapist. A third-generation medical healer, Dr. Saad has been practicing his brand of Thai Massage for 38 years now in this small straw cottage with no windows, overlooking a field with water buffalos and various other animals and birds.
 |
| Sign inside Dr. Saad's place. |
Dr. Saad soon focused right in on my same fractured spinal area. He said the muscles there were very tight. He told me that sitting in the yogic seated position (Padmasana) was part of the problem - that the energy channels in the back get blocked by doing this. I got it right away. I had already deduced that this position was no longer serving me and my practice and had begun using Hero pose much more of the time.
After two weeks of feeling really good in my back, Dr. Saad went about moving some more energy out. It was painful, but not horribly so. Apparently, there is still some work to do there.
Oh, and Dr. Saad is also a bone-setter. I didn't realize this before booking the appointment. This is a form of chiropractic work that the old villages use in remote areas. Dr. Saad has it down. And I survived. But before leaving he told me that I needed at least two more sessions to "heal" the issue. And, of course, I was leaving in a day. I could have gone back one more time, but I decided not to. I decided to take my last full day on the island and enjoy it rather than the potential of more purging of toxins in my room.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
I am not sure what the long-term affects of the yam kaeng massage will be - nor my short visit to Dr. Saad. Perhaps the Indian doctor was right. Or maybe the Western doctors will host some visits for me in the future. I know not where the road to healing my back will take me - or if that is even possible.
Perhaps some things just need to be accepted. Perhaps anything can "heal."
My journey in this life has included this injury for a reason. It has made me a very compassionate teacher, for sure. And it has certainly proven to me the connection between the mind-body-emotions. What else lies ahead, remains a mystery. One that I am sure I will write about again.
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