Breathe in...breathe out

Several months ago now, after one of my physical therapy sessions in the warm water pool at Courage Center, I experienced a sudden flare-up of pain in my always painful knee, of new and incredibly epic proportions.  It had been hurting while in the pool, but for whatever reason, while walking on deck, and especially while I was showering off, the pain intensified, and despite my efforts to stretch the spastic muscles, it would not diminish.  As I tried to make my way from the shower to the lockers, I noticed an emergency button on the wall, and although I was extremely embarrassed to actually push it, I swallowed my pride and pushed it anyhow, then sat down to wait for help to come.

Up to this point, I had never gone to an ER for knee pain alone, but I was fully prepared to do so this time.  The help came quickly, including the physical therapist who had just been with me in the pool, and many other staff members from throughout the building.  Now you would think that as help arrived, I would feel less anxious about the situation, but strangely to me, quite the opposite happened.  As more people surrounded me, and the noise of their voices all mingling together as they thought out loud about the best course of action for me, my anxiety heightened, and pain grew worse.  Tears began to freely flow now, and I was secretly praying for an ambulance to come, for the paramedic to start an IV, and for pain relief to quickly flow into my veins.

But that didn't happen.  Instead, I was put in a wheelchair and taken down the hall and into one of the rooms in the doctor's clinic, which actually had a hospital bed in it, rather than a narrow, hard exam table.  They wrapped me in warm blankets to alleviate the chill from still being in a wet swimming suit, dimmed the lights, and even turned on soft, relaxing music.  (you won't find that in any ER I can guarantee!)  All but one of the people helping me left the room, and she took a seat by my side, and began to talk me through the pain and anxiety I was experiencing.  She said many things to me, but what I remember most were the words she used over and over...."breathe in Colleen, and breathe out. Breathe slow and deep"...I did as she said, and then she left me too, and I closed my eyes, and continued to breathe.  As I did, I noticed the pain and anxiety were diminishing, and much to my amazement, the desire for narcotic pain meds did too.

When I opened my eyes again, a new person was with me.  This time it was a physician from the pain clinic, one I had not yet met.  He was smiling at me, and very gently and patiently began asking me questions.  Amongst other things, he too talked about breathing to get through the pain, and encouraged me to get home to the comfort of my own bed, and continue to rest and breathe until the pain decreased enough to continue with the routine of my life.

Now I wish I could report that breathing was enough for me that day, because  it wasn't.  When I got home, I still resorted to taking some prescribed medicine I had on hand for such a time as that, but along with it, I did as the doctor instructed.  I can honestly tell you that the incorporation of breathing made the difference I know from experience, that drugs alone could never make!  Since that day, I have really worked hard at making this  exercise habit, not just in times of physical pain, but in times of mental pain and when stress is getting the best of me as well.  Even stopping to intentionally breathe deep when absolutely nothing but the routine of the day is happening, does wonders.  I'm not kidding.  Go ahead and try it for yourself.  Start when all is well relatively speaking, and add it in to your experiences of pain.  See and feel  how the act of breathing and pain management truly can go hand in hand.