Five Years Ago

Some years ago when I was teaching, I was talking to an eighteen year old who was having some problems.
“ Remember how you were five years ago and think how much you have changed. In the next five years you will change just as much and you will look back on this time and recall all the silly and cringe-making things you said and did.”
One is inclined to believe that, as an adult, ideas and opinions no longer change a great deal over a five year period. However I think I have always been able to look back five years and remember foolish thoughts and opinions held and stupid and crass things said.

Five years ago I would have had little time for the idea that counselling was of much use in helping a person with their problems. The idea that talking about one’s personal troubles and fears with a complete stranger could be beneficial, did not seem likely to me. Surely one must confront one’s problems, endeavour to sort out those that one could, and learn how to cope with the rest. And yet, a couple of years ago at the suggestion of my doctor, I found myself "on the couch" as it were. At first we jousted verbally but she, being more used to these sort of games, soon got the better of me and it wasn't long before I was pouring everything out. She did recommend at one point that I went on anti-depressants but I wasn't going down that road. After six sessions (that's what the NHS allows you for free) I acknowledged that we had made progress and realised I was going to miss our monthly get-togethers.

Five years ago I regarded acupuncture as a weird ancient Chinese practice, which, like faith-healing and African witch-doctory, could only work if you were a "believer". This summer, after three weeks camping and driving in France, I returned with a stiffness in the back and shoulders which would not go away. When the doctor diagnosed polymyalgia rheumatica and prescribed some sort of steroid tablets for the next two years, I went straight on-line and panicked when I saw the list of potential side-effects. These ranged from indigestion and weight gain through to acute suicidal tendencies. My daughter suggested trying acupuncture and/or massage so I gave it a go. Thus, much to my amazement, two weeks ago I found myself stripped to the waist, flat on my back while an enthusiastic young woman called Gabrielle administered needles all over my body. I had one in each foot, one in each thigh, one on either side of my navel, one just below the breastbone, one between the eyes and two in each ear! Gabrielle kept taking my pulse and assured me she could feel the energy surging round my system.
Although it did little to relieve the pain in my shoulders and upper arms, I'm sure I did feel better "in myself" for the next couple of days.

Five years ago my understanding of massage probably was limited to the vision of soft lighting, lush furnishings, aromatic candles and warm sweet-smelling oils gently applied by nubile Oriental maidens.
A week or so ago I found myself, again stripped to the waist, this time face down, being pummelled and probed by the same vigorous and enthusiastic young lady who had earlier applied the needles. At one point the isolated and intensely fierce pain in my lower back caused me to accuse her of having a sharp fingernail on the end of the strong, bony digit embedded deeply into my back. Gabrielle informed me that the digit in question was, in actual fact, her elbow. Again, the same problems remained but the unravelling and stretching of muscles and tendons was really welcome.

Eventually, after one night when I literally had no sleep at all (from 3.00 until 5.00am I watched a recording of Australia v South Africa, a cracking game,) I succumbed and have started taking the steroids. No nasty side-effects so far, and the doctor says that, when we start to reduce the dose, some sessions of acupuncture could certainly be beneficial. I may well try that. But I will certainly go for another massage in a couple of months.