Healing with Capoeira
Just before surgery to fasten a metal plate with 27 screws along the length of my femur
Saturday, August 16, 2014
My morning began before sunrise, practicing capoeira on Newcomb Hollow beach, Wellfleet, Cape Cod, MA.
Later in the day, after shopping at the Wellfleet Flea Market, I was heading north on Route 6, to pick up my mom and friend for a swim in a pond.
I woke up with a medic kneeling over me asking me my name, address and date of birth. I replied clearly and intentionally, knowing that something serious occurred. I was in a peaceful realm and knew somehow that everything was going to be alright. I saw that a huge piece of my arm, the size of a hamburger, was hanging upside down from my forearm.
"You were in a head on collision. Your arm was cut open and your leg, badly smashed. You are flying in a helicopter to Mass General Hospital in Boston," said the medic. I wonder if he was surprised that I was awake and coherent. I was impressed with the body's capacity to function in a state of trauma.
I woke up again at Mass General Hospital with the surgical team surrounding my bed. We were waiting for the Operating Room to open up. I found my cell phone and managed to call my brother Ricky, who was traveling with his wife and son in Vermont. "I was in a head on collision. I am at Mass General in Boston. Call mommy," I told him.
In a few minutes my cell phone rings. Mom. I must have been drugged with pain killers, I had lost a lot of blood, and was in a state of shock. She is hard of hearing and the cell phone connection was poor. Our conversation, between mom and injured son, must have been a scary and confused mess, especially for her. She was waiting since 3:00pm for me to take her to the pond for a swim and it was now around 6:30pm. Ricky's phone call to her was the first she heard about me.
In the operating room, the surgeon cleaned out the gash in my arm and sewed it up. Pins were screwed into various pieces of femur and secured with bigger pins up and down my leg to keep them in place. Five days later, back in the operating room, surgery removed the pins and properly set the bones in my leg, screwing the pieces into a huge titanium plate (the largest plate they could find in the hospital). My doctor, Dr. Lowe, a leading trauma specialist, handled the initial care of many of the most seriously hurt people injured in the Boston Marathon Bombing. My injuries, though serious, were in his range of experience. I am in great hands.
Ten days after scraping me out of the car, ten days of critical care at Mass General Hospital, I am accepted to Spaulding Rehab Hospital. Spaulding is one of the top rehab facilities in the country. Here, after the Boston Marathon Bombing, many folks injured by the bomb, are fitted for prosthesis, and taught to move around and walk again.
I am here at Spaulding almost two weeks. The rehab hospital is new, less than two years old. Built on the old Boston Navy Yard, the area is surrounded by water with views of Boston Harbor, passing boats, ships, sail boats, seagulls, walking trails. I'm now able to get out of the building on a wheelchair. Pushed and accompanied by my mom, I've seen the diverse views of the water and surrounding area. As she said to me, "It's been 53 years since I pushed you in a chair with wheels."
I am grateful for:
surviving a head on car crash
surviving the blood loss and getting the best care in the quickest time possible
being at one of the best trauma hospitals, being accepted to a leading rehab centers under the supervision of great doctors, nurses, therapists, and care workers
having my family by my side, to massage my leg and participate in the conversations and choices
having friends in Boston and New York who came to make me smile and to bring me delicious things to eat while my appetite and sense of taste is dormant and twisted
good fitness and health towards a "speedy" recovery
capoeira for cultivating positive thoughts, visions and energy, for teaching me about healing from the inside out, for innumerous real stories of people overcoming enormous obstacles and overwhelming odds to move, to flow, and to play inside the capoeira circle.
I looked forward to the healing. I had physical and occupational therapy three hours a day. Making progress through the pain. I'll get there! It may be months before my leg can be weight bearing enough to walk. Then ginga. Slow and steady. Ginga, capoeira’s base, is full of swing and swagger. More challenging to re-learn are aú, a “cartwheel,” and rolé, a roll to the ground and back up.
Bless our art, our practice, and our community. Be grateful for every move you can do and every move you "can't do," yet.
Love and Light,
Michael Z. Goldstein
Mestre Ombrinho