My.Oh! Fay.Shull.

Dear goodness, is it Thursday night already?  My art professor told us that as we age, time goes faster.  When he said that, I was 20 years old. I thought he was kidding.  Now that I'm only a wee bit shy of 50, I see what he means. He was painfully serious.

You probably thing I've been sitting around doing nothing, but that is far from the case.  I've been getting my myofascials released!  

Now, you may or may not know what this means.  I'm having it done and I'm not sure I know what it means. I never really heard about myofascial release until our friends educated us, as related to my seeming-medical issue.  You would think I would know at least a little something, considering I own one of those foam roller things that people use for myofascial release. (I have the foam roller per the suggestion of Phlange-a-slam, who thought it would help with my IT band woes.  It did.  Guess I never thought about what the foam roller might be all about.  I just follow direction.)

Suffice it to say that all those little fibrous bands in my connecting tissue are just waiting for someone to release the tension and I have been led to someone who can do it.

Anyways, having your myofascials released is a complicated thing.

Okay, not really--I lay there on the nicely-heated table and listen to soothing music while my personal myofascial releaser (and the Universe) do all the work.   It's not complicated at all.   I don't even have to understand it.  I don't have to get undressed, I don't have to think, I don't have to do anything but be.

I can be with the best of them.

Since the miracles of modern medical science have done nothing to help me (well besides confirm that I have an actual problem that is visible on a CAT scan), I am enjoying this "different" route and embracing every minute of it.  It actually makes total sense to me: if there is the possibility that my issues are cause by (or at least exacerbated by) scar tissue or tension in my connecting tissue, something--besides surgery--needs to be done to release the tension from where it is tense. Since I had surgery in the area in question and since the issues I am having do indeed suggest issues with adhesions or some other scar-related issue. it makes even more sense. 

Still with me?  Good.

Lest you think I'm out frolicking naked in the woods (not that there's anything wrong with that), let me give you a clue about what happens when I go for a treatment: 

1.  Hop up on to the table that has been pre-heated ("What a treat!" as the wife would say.)
2.  Relax.
3.  Experience gentle massage-like pressure on the part(s) in question.  Yum.
3.  Relax more as your myofascial get stretched, kneaded, massaged.  Yum squared.
3.  Become one with the Universe.

See? How great is that?

After the first session, I felt like a million bucks.  Talk about relief.  It was the first true relief I've had in many, many weeks.  Unfortunately, the next few days were tough.  I figure this is quite normal--after all, my connective tissue has been a hot mess since the summer--it probably didn't like being told to go back to from where it came.  (I hate being told what to do.  I imagine my myofascial feels the same way.) By the time I go to the second session (yesterday), I was ready for more.  Today, I am experiencing a pleasant silence from the area of which has had lot to say over the past many months.

It's hard to describe what I mean when I say "a pleasant silence."  I thought trying to explain my vague symptoms to the doctor was hard--this is just as hard to describe.  A pleasant silence follows months and months of static.  It's like you've been living with this loud, irritating static noise in the background and it's always there and although you can keep on working and doing what you do, the static is always always always there and always at a low grade irritation and you.can't.make.it.stop.

So what happens when one is given the gift of a pleasant silence?  It is like heaven.  It is delicious.  It is appreciated. It give me hope.  It reminds me of what its like to take part in the process of healing.  It gives me gratitude out the wazoo.  It soothes my soul. 

Since I've lived with the "static" for so long, the pleasant silence is a little disconcerting; after all, I haven't had silence since July. I keep waiting for the irritation to return.  I then chastise myself for such thinking.  I go back to enjoying the silence.  Ahhhhhh.

I'll let you know how this progresses.  In the meantime, give a google if you need more info.  Until we meet again, I'm going to go enjoy my delicious, warm, golden, beautiful, glowing silence. 

Shhhhhhhhhhh.