Finding a new balance

Michelle Mannion from Worcester was training as a psychologist when she was diagnosed with leukaemia three years ago, receiving a bone marrow transplant in March 2005. A mum to two teenage girls, she first heard about eurythmy when her younger daughter attended a Steiner school. When a family member was badly injured some years ago, she saw up close how successful the anthroposophic approach to rehab can be. She was delighted to be offered one-to-one eurythmy sessions at Park Attwood Clinic, as part of her personal programme of therapies.

“It didn’t surprise me that there was a therapy involving speech sounds and movements which is used in complementary medicine. I had seen a speech therapist working in a surprisingly concrete way with sound and speech patterns to help brain injury, even using sand to make a visible record of sounds associated with individual patterns and gestures. She explained that the reason we count the beats in poetry as "feet" is because the ancient Greeks used to memorise their poems by literally stepping them out. Over time, these therapeutic processes become physically part of us, helping our bodies and brains to re-learn old pathways or forge new ones. It made sense to me that this could have a powerful impact on my health. I needed to start on the road to recovery, and this felt like a step in the right direction.”

“The first 100 days after a bone marrow transplant are considered a crucial time medically. Chemotherapy has killed off the existing blood system, replacing it with a ‘graft’ of new donor stem cells. Vulnerability to infection is managed in hospital by isolating the patient, requiring visitors to wear aprons and gloves for a few weeks until blood counts begin to improve, then controlling diet and contact with potential germs for several months afterwards. However, these practices, although life-saving in the long term, have a paradoxically disruptive effect on normal human contact with the world, often leaving patients feeling alienated.”

“I was also coping with an extremely draining side-effect of treatment: my skin was producing new cells at an abnormally rapid rate, flaking off like severe psoriasis. My sweat glands were damaged, so I could not control my body temperature. Medical treatment involved powerful immune-suppressing drugs, which obviously creates risks of infection. So I was highly motivated to find something to address the symptoms in other ways.”

“But it was more than just physical symptoms. I no longer felt confident that I knew what my body was capable of. It was sometimes difficult to sense where my body began and ended. Our skin is the largest organ of the body, it gives us shape, and forms a sensory layer between us and our world, at once separating and connecting us. I sometimes felt disconnected from my surroundings, even threatened occasionally in unexpected ways.”

“Whereas many people turn to treatments and therapies to help them unwind, I needed help to wind myself back up again, to feel part of my environment and community. When my doctor asked me what my central reason was to come to Park Attwood, I replied without hesitation: "to gather myself".”

“I stayed at Park Attwood for a fortnight in August 2005, five months after my bone marrow transplant, arriving extremely weak and easily disorientated. I was prescribed eurythmy three times a week, alongside other supportive therapies - for example, I found hydrotherapy baths very beneficial for my skin problems. The oils in the water soothed my flaking skin, and enveloped in the water I could physically reconnect to the sense of warmth.”

“In eurythmy, we had to really pare back some exercises to very basic beginnings, scaling things down to a manageable level. The hardest thing of all was to simply feel my feet fully in contact with the floor. We began with a number of different sounds and verses, but the one I took away with me was a combination of the letter A (pronounced ‘ah’) paired with H (pronounced as a short, soft ‘ha’ outbreath). You begin standing upright, feet together, and then lean slightly forwards into "ah", opening your hands and arms. You step forwards, then rock backwards again, dropping your shoulders into "ha", then back to centre. To begin with I would frequently lose my balance. We reduced it to micro movements, just rocking my whole body onto the balls of the feet and back again.”

“I began to use the movement after my daily rehydrating baths. All changes are magnified without a working skin layer, and adjusting from the warm surroundings of bathwater to the cool airiness of the bathroom actually required some effort. So as I stepped onto the bathmat I consciously took time to rock forward onto the balls of my feet, then transfer my weight back into my heels, then forward again to find the midpoint and stand tall.”

“Practising the other gestures and verses, I was encouraged to feel the space around me, just opening my fingers and feeling into it, with a consciousness of its tangibility. Eventually it felt like slipping my hand into an opera glove, to experience the air around my hand, rather than the empty void to I had sensed before. Over time, these tentative movements developed into more definite experiences, addressing the ways in which I was unknowingly contributing to my own sense of isolation.”

“For example, my therapist pointed out that I would often close my eyes on the ‘ha’ outbreath, as if shutting out the world behind me. I was encouraged to keep my eyes open, not only to remain alert to my surroundings, but also to notice the points where I’d be tempted to switch off again. It was an important realisation. The eurythmy movements are gentle and pleasurable, and give a sense of wellbeing, so it’s no hardship to practice them at home - they are rather like physical "mantras" to suit the mood or need of the day. For example, during a period of steady reduction of my major medications, eurythmy therapy helped me to manage the seemingly endless stages of transition.”

“I return to Park Attwood every few months for a check up and a top up of eurythmy if necessary, as a day patient. My skin is back to normal, except for the sweat glands which I hope may recover in time. Interestingly I recently found my pared-down "Ah-Ha" movement recommended by Dr Miriam Nelson in her book Strong Women, Strong Bones (I discovered last year that my bones have been thinned by my treatment, increasing the risk of osteoporosis). Dr Nelson emphasises the importance of balance in avoiding fractures, and points out how it can be difficult after the age of 40 to close our eyes and stand on one leg even for a short while.”

“Two years on from transplant I am beginning to look further into the future again - just about to start a short course in computer graphics. It feels so good to be taking steps in a new direction now.”

Strong Women, Strong Bones by Dr Miriam Nelson is published by Judy Piatkus, 2000.

"Park Attwood demands and offers something completely different. It presents an opportunity to confront yourself and your illness. It can be incredibly difficult, - any distraction is preferable to shining a light on yourself. It can be lonely - but you are not alone. The therapists, nurses and doctors all seem to have enough time for you; with empathy and sensitivity you are held through each crisis - towards a deeper understanding. For those of us lucky enough to find Park Attwood it is the most creative way we have of approaching our illness."