Long Night's Journey - Part six

Continues...

I discovered the therapists had succeeded with brain trauma victims previously and welcomed the challenge of working with someone coming out of coma.  They preferred to work as a team initially to intensify the remedial benefits.  We scheduled the first session for late morning.  I met the couple outside the ICU and we proceeded to Carolie’s bedside.   

The prospect of a hands-on healing intervention filled me with anticipation.  Little could I know what a profound thing would occur.  The couple began at either end of her body, using their hands to ‘feel’ vibrations and determine the extent and nature of damage wrought by haemorrhage and remedial procedures. Their respective ‘read’ of the body was illuminating.  They moved their hands to key points and appeared to tap into her vital energies. 

After a period of gentle application of the hands to the head the samvahan therapist said, “This is not a brain in coma; it has been tired for a long time and has suffered some distress in recent years - now it is sleeping”.  My mind immediately cast back over many years of overwork and poor workplace support. It had taken a massive toll on Carolie.  I had worried about her body rebelling and frequently nagged her to have more down time.  While not a direct cause of the aneurysm, her weakened metabolism and reduced energy levels were a backdrop to her slow recovery from surgery and induced coma. 

The couple continued to work systematically on pressure points and other sympathetic tuning areas of the body.  Suddenly Carolie’s eyes opened fully.  Two big blue eyes were looking at us.  The couple introduced themselves again, this time to an awakened consciousness.   

What manner of alchemy was this?  An overwhelming relief flooded over me.  I had been trying to communicate through the subtle vibrations of familiar music - playing her Vivaldi, Rachmaninoff, Satie and the sublime sounds of Shivkumar Sharma’s santoor through an iPod – but these skilled practitioners had reached her via her own vibrations.  For me, it ranked alongside the great ‘awakenings’ from the annals of induced coma. 

Over the following days, Carolie was able to sit for a period.  She awoke for increasing periods, engaging eyes and squeezing hands.  The samvahan practitioner had another session with her two days later.  This time she was awake throughout, and appearing to respond to his touch.  His ‘read’ of her body picked up little overall damage in areas such as speech and long-term memory.  My relief was visceral.  I found the following a comfort:

Our bodies were designed to work with flexibility and ease, but sometimes bad posture, intense stress and a hectic lifestyle can trigger a series of painful reactions ranging from muscle strains, stomach cramps and migraine, to ankle injuries, wrist injuries and back pain.  These types of ailments, as well as imbalances created by major illnesses, can be treated through Samvahan.  All people are unique in how they create and hold vibrations.  Each organ, tissue and cell in our bodies is like an instrument in an orchestra.  Just as there are different frequencies, overtones and peculiarities unique to each instrument, the same applies to the body.  Every instrument has to be tuned for optimal performance and to suit the entire orchestra’s harmony.  The therapist works as instrument technician and music conductor to help the client…create the best possible balance, vibrancy and long-term vitality.*

The nurses appeared equally impressed by the sudden improvements.  Her blood and IC pressures settled.  The second EVD became redundant; they started to talk about moving her to the ‘ward’ and thence back to Canberra. We had daily visits from speech pathologists, who take a pivotal role in preparations to remove a tracheostomy. They manipulate an external balloon mechanism to inflate and deflate the internal cuff that seals the airway, and monitor the prevailing pressures carefully.

A strict trialling protocol ensures the patient is not under too much duress.  The pathologist deflated the cuff for increasing periods to test her capacity to breathe unaided. A meticulous process, it seemed like marking time.  

 I was impatient to know whether her speech was impaired and to hear her talk for the first time in over a month.  A whistling throatiness would signal a build up of fluid in the airway, cleared by the usual oxygen suction. The gurgle was alarming at times and I would anxiously alert the nurse if she went away from the bed. This process commenced in the ICU, and continued for some time in the high dependency neurology wards of both hospitals.  Carolie would go back to Canberra with her tracheostomy still in place.

Another noticeable change was the nurses’ keenness for Carolie to be out of bed.  On one occasion, two joined me on an excursion to a private area of the old hospital.  A convoluted path took us down corridors and through doors to an old area under new development. A tiled fountain lay unused at the centre of an elegant heritage garden courtyard; a one time residential hall for staff was my guess.  

 It felt like we had emerged through a wormhole to an earlier time. I half expected nurses to appear suddenly with winged starched hats and buttoned down uniforms; generations of giggling girls whipped into shape by formidable nursing sisters.  The current day nurses could not shed any light.  Unfortunately, the chaotic cacophony of a nearby building zone intruded on this genteel time warp, but it was a blessed relief to have her out of the building and enjoying the light of day.

We had turned a huge corner of the labyrinth.  Nurse Managers prepared me for moving Carolie to the ‘ward’.  We were awaiting a bed near the nurses’ station, as a patient with a tracheostomy remains at high risk of airway complications and infection.   

Close monitoring is required, preferably in a single room. I was full of anticipation that this was a good thing; a bridge back to Canberra.  This was a light before us, dimly at the end of a long corridor.

  

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*              http://www.samvahan.com/articles-body.htm