Category: Life

There’s nothing like a near-death experience to change your perspective on life. I had one right in the middle of my swim trek in Greece. (The Milos Explorer trip.) Before going, I knew that we would spend most of the day either on the boat or swimming in the ocean. I sometimes get seasick. I’d tried an over the counter anti-nausea medicine once, years ago, and it made me so sleepy I missed most of the fun I was trying not to feel sick for. The logical answer was to take the less-drowsy formula and all would be fine. Or so I thought.  On day 3 of our swim trek, I took one with breakfast and felt fine all morning. We boated for about an hour or to a neighboring island. I had a splendid morning swim, a crossing from one island to another, which is my favorite type of open water swimming. When I swim out in the “deep end” of the ocean, I feel as though I’m in another world. I’m in a bottomless, magical blue abyss and I absolutely love it. I felt great that morning and swam in a fast, silky smooth zone.

After we all finished the crossing, we boarded the boat and headed toward another island to enjoy lunch at a local open-air café. While on the way, I laid down on a bench to rest. About twenty minutes later we stopped and dropped anchor. I got up quickly and suddenly felt nauseous. I was annoyed because I had taken a pill that morning to avoid this very feeling, but went to the side of the boat. I then felt dizzy as well, so I quickly scampered to the end of the boat where I could sit down on the edge and throw up if necessary. The next thing I knew I was in the water with Bruce, one of the swim guides, and totally disoriented. I kept asking why I was all wet and couldn’t figure out how I got in the ocean. Bruce calmed me down and said I had fainted. Fainted? It sounded so Victorian-age. Bruce later told me he had gone to the back of the boat just in time to see me fall into the ocean and sink like a rock. At first, he thought I was just goofing off and was annoyed because it was lunch time, not play time. But, luckily, he jumped in after me and somehow got me back to the surface.

I was still disorientated while trying to climb back on the boat. The next thing I knew I was in the dingy, sitting with my head in someone’s lap (I think it was the other swim guide, Coll.) I tried to sit up so I could throw up over the side but David (the British doctor who was also a Swim Trek participant) told me not to sit up. I obeyed and promptly threw up in the dingy. I felt a little bad about that but they said it didn’t matter. I’m not sure if the Greek boat captain felt the same way since he was the one who had to clean the boat. We got to shore where Coll and David helped me walk to a shaded chaise lounge, conveniently placed at the waters edge, just for me. Actually, my feet hardly touched the sand so I’m pretty sure Coll and David did all the work of moving me. I felt like everyone was fussing a little too much and that I was being a drama queen. At that time, I didn’t realize I had passed out more than once. I hadn’t even considered the ramifications; those thoughts came after lunch on the boat.

The next dingy-load of people included my sister, Audrey, who was horrified that she was lounging around at the front of the boat, enjoying herself, while I dropped into the ocean. She joined us while I followed David’s strict protocol of remaining horizontal for a full twenty minutes, then sitting up for ten minutes before I could walk. David kept taking my pulse and watching me closely. By the time I joined the others for lunch I felt fine, albeit a bit shaken up.

This photo shows the main characters in my drama.  Dr David is at the far end of the table, Swim Guide (and rescuer of sinking swim trekkers) Bruce is in the back, left side wearing an orange shirt. Audrey is in the blue shirt in front and I’m sitting across from her. The other swim guide, Coll, who half carried me up the beach and to this cafe is at the head of the table. Isn’t he handsome? (Almost as handsome as Hubby.)  I’ve got to admit, all the male attention I received was kind of fun. I’m sure they were all impressed when I puked in the boat. I’m pretty glamorous that way. The other people are our fellow adventurous swim trekkers. The food was awesome and I felt much better by the end of lunch. Which was a pity, since no one had to carry me back to the boat.

After lunch we relaxed a bit then boated to our next swim spot. Bruce told me to stay on the boat and skip the afternoon swim. Audrey stayed with me. I was fine with that because by then I had started processing it all. What had happened? What did this mean? Should I quit open water swimming? (Unthinkable.) Should I quit driving? (Inconvenient.) Was I okay? Was something bigger coming? Audrey calmed me down and made me laugh when she said that if she had gone home from Greece without me she would be in big trouble with the rest of our family. I focused on the positives and even felt a little pleased when Bruce said I sank like a rock. (Sinking means I don’t have too much body fat on me!)

After we returned to the hotel that afternoon, Audrey, Bruce and I took a taxi to the medical clinic on the other side of Milos. It was a clean, modern facility without a wait. The nurse took my vitals and then the doctor sauntered in. It appeared as if someone had pulled him away from an afternoon on the beach. His flip flops, sunglasses and loose, casual shirt went well with his long, beachy hair. He asked me questions, listened to my heart and my lungs and then pronounced me well with two thumbs up. It was definitely one of the most casual and enjoyable doctor visits I’ve ever had.  When we checked out, the receptionist said there was no charge. If you’re ever sick, Milos is a good place to be.  We celebrated with chocolate cake that evening after dinner.

Later that night,I  talked to my twin sister, Suzy, who did some internet research and found other people had reported blacking out after taking the same medication I had. That made me feel much better. It felt great to have a reason for such a bizarre event.

Dr. David read the label and said the active ingredient, Meclizine, was rarely prescribed in England because it’s a “dirty” drug with numerous side effects. The non drowsy version was a completely different  drug than the original formula. This reminded me that even if something is available over the counter, it doesn’t mean that drug is safe for everyone.

The next day, Audrey and I stayed at the hotel. We spent a nice day exploring the fishing village, hiking, reading by the ocean and swimming in the bay. I thought about all the little miracles that happened and how grateful I was that things turned out as they had. I’m grateful Bruce had come to the back of the boat just in time to see me fall. I’m grateful I didn’t “come too” when I was underwater. I was so disoriented that had I been underwater I’m sure I would have filled my lungs with water and drowned. Since Bruce was there, I’m grateful I passed out into the ocean instead of in the boat where there were many hard surfaces to bump my head, break my nose or knock out a tooth or two. I’m grateful that Dr. David was on that trip and was willing to help. I’m especially grateful to be alive.

I don’t drink but I was happy to buy Coll, David and Bruce a drink to celebrate my continuing life.

Two years ago I was in Greensboro, North Carolina for the Master’s swim meet. While browsing through a small shop I fell in love with, and purchased this card. I hung it on my office wall, where is still hangs today.

I hope I didn’t jinx myself with the card! Thankfully that day didn’t come in Greece. After our day off, Audrey and I re-joined the swim trek group and enjoyed more beautiful ocean swims without further incident. We did miss the cliff jumping adventure so we may have to return to Milos sometime.

We all know about the benefits of receiving a great massage; they’re well documented. If you’re a massage junkie, like me, you’ve got firsthand knowledge. But have you ever thought about the benefits that the therapist may be getting? (Other than wages and tips.) I used to think massage was purely about the therapist giving and the client receiving. Which is pretty great when you’re the client. Then I heard the story of the reluctant massage therapist, Ryan Osguthorpe, of Melted Massage in St George, Utah. I asked him how he got into the business and this is what he told me:

I had never thought about being a massage therapist. I wanted a different job, but I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I told my friend that working at McDonald’s was sounding better than my current job. He was a massage therapist and told me I should become one. I thought, there’s no way I’m touching people and people are NOT touching me. It was gross. That was my opinion. But out of desperation, I was signed up one day later. I’d never had a massage before then.

When I was in class I felt like the biggest outcast. There were thirty-nine students and when we were going around introducing ourselves everyone was saying things like, “I’m a natural healer.”  Or that they were there because they had had a great experience with a massage therapist. They’d been giving massages to their family members since they were little, and I had never even hugged a family member. When it was my turn I said, “I’m here for money.” And they said, “oh honey, you’re in the wrong career.” I thought I was too. I literally was going to quit so many times. I hated it. I did not have good experiences on the table.

Of the thirty-nine students, five of us were guys. For my very first massage I was so nervous. I did NOT want a guy therapist. I was like, please no guy. Of course, I got a guy. It was so awkward-the worst experience. But he eventually became my favorite therapist.

I didn’t drop out. I just kept sticking to it because I didn’t know what else to do. Then somewhere about five months into it I realized it was the most peaceful job I’d ever had. I did have a couple of good massages by then too. But it was when I was with my clients, massaging them, that’s when everything changed. All of a sudden it was like zen to me. Like a meditation. The connection to another person is really what it’s all about.

It changed my opinion of people. I really got to know them. I saw them for who they are. When we first meet people, we are so judgmental. I discovered that people have reasons for the things they do. Everyone has a story. People that I used to think harshly about, I don’t anymore. I don’t look at people the same way as I did before.

(I will add here that I am grateful Ryan got over his feeling of “ickiness” and became a massage therapist-the world is a better place because of it.) His story was eye-opening for me. Ryan said he became a calmer and more empathetic person after becoming a therapist. Did this mean that when I got a massage I was helping improve someone’s life in my own, small way? Or that when I got a massage I could count that as my good-deed-of-the-day? Win-Win! My curiosity was piqued. (Plus, I’m always on the lookout for more rationale to support my massage habit.)

I asked the owner of Melted Massage, Ryan Gallian, what he gained by giving a massage. Here’s what he told me:

It’s such an amazing experience when the person on the table and the therapist can both get into what I call ‘the zone’.  For the person on the table it’s a state where they are not really asleep, but not really awake-they’re in this zone. For the therapist, when they have that person in the zone, they are also in the zone. It’s like a meditative state. The peace and the calm that comes from that is amazing. A lot of therapist work off tips in this industry and that is one way to thank your therapist. But expressing gratitude afterward is also a way to fuel their passion for their work. Most massage therapist are givers. Giving fuels their passion and is a huge portion of who they are. It’s tremendously beneficial on a lot more levels than just getting a check. 

Ryan lives what he preaches which unfortunately translates to being booked out waaaaaaaaay in advance. Booking a massage was so much easier before the word got out. (Worth the wait.)

The best massage therapists I’ve had not only sooth my muscles, they sooth my soul. Sometimes I leave feeling relaxed and free of muscle knots. And sometimes I feel as though my heart needed that safe touch more than my muscles did. I remember one massage that nourished me when I was grieving the loss of my mom. When my dear friend, Sydney, was struggling with her own loss, I took her to one of the most nurturing therapist I know, Callie Christopherson, owner of Canyonland Massage in St George.

Sydney was hesitant at first because she had never had a massage before. I prevailed. (She will tell you just how obnoxiously pushy I can be.) Afterward she told me she felt so cared for that she cried during her massage. “I felt as though Callie was massaging all the sadness from my body.” It’s not just about working the knots out. A healing touch is powerful stuff. Callie told me that giving a massage like that gives her sense of purpose. “It’s my favorite thing to do-to help people in that way.” When I asked how she benefits from giving a massage she echoed Ryan Gallian’s sentiments. “I get the same relaxation that the client does. To me, it feels like a moving meditation. I get very centered, which is a healing place for both of us to be in.” In fact, Callie is convinced that massage therapy is a necessary part of an integrated approach to healthcare, rather than simply a pampering luxury. She feels so strongly about  this that she instigated a no-tipping policy at her massage business. “I think the best way clients can express appreciation is by sharing their love of massage and referring friends and family.” I just refer to her as amazing.

Finding your favorite therapist is a wonderful journey, but…we live in an imperfect world. Not all therapists are out there trying to make the world a more peaceful place. If you ever feel uncomfortable with a particular therapist, find a different therapist. If you ever feel REALLY uncomfortable during a massage, don’t even finish it. Use common sense and listen to your gut feelings.

And while I’m in warning mode, I must say: when you have a great therapist, and your muscles are encouraged to let go of tension, and you get some feel-good chemicals racing through your body, it’s highly addictive. So, make your body happy, make a therapist happy, make the world a more peaceful place and book a massage. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m late for my Massage Junkies Anonymous meeting.

                      One of the fellow residents at Mom’s home

Mom taught me how to be independent by example. She left her home country of Germany as a 17-year old and ventured off into a foreign land alone. She learned English by watching TV and was planning her next around the world adventure when she met my dad. Fast forward 50 years and five kids later. She’s an empty nester, socially active in her community, enjoying the peace and quiet she’s earned but trades in for time with her grandkids. 

Mom was an active, vibrant 70-year old when her life irrevocably changed in a matter of minutes. On 8/8/08 my parents came to visit us at my home in Panguitch. At 1:30 am my dad found her laying on the floor and was unable to wake her up. After a CT scan, Dr. Mooney told us she had had a stroke caused by a brain hemorrhage. It was humungous, he said in layman’s terms. The kind you don’t survive. She was suddenly dependent on machines to keep her alive. Terms like, “vegetative state” were thrown around with what I consider reckless abandon.  

But she showed them. A few months later she was speaking some, communicating much and slowly regaining some of the movement she had lost to paralysis. We were all planning the day she would be ready to walk out of the hospital, celebrate her recovery, and show the doctors that miracles do indeed exist. 

That day never came but humungous stroke number two did. Tube feedings, fresh tracheotomies and paralysis followed.

I do believe there is a critical link between nutrition and health. Unfortunately there is often a large gap of time between the two. As a senior in high school I had a pint of Baskin Robbins ice-cream every night for dinner on the way home from swim team practice. I’m feeling it now, thirty years later. Which makes me think that if I want to be a vibrant, independent 70 year old, I should prepare for it right now. 

                                 I love you Mom