Heal from the Heart: Odyssey through Nature, Soul and Recovery from Multiple Sclerosis - Softcover

Schell, Norma

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0971050708 ISBN 13: 9780971050709

Publisher: Norma Schell, 2001

Synopsis

Heal From The Heart, Odyssey through Nature, Soul and Recovery from Multiple Sclerosis is one woman’s adventurous quest for life, as well as, recovery from MS. Schell relentlessly searches for answers to her unease. She breathes life into the meaning and power of her childhood of joy and pain on the family farm in Nebraska. Norma pursues academic degrees and travels the globe in her restless search. Then with the threat of MS, together with the fierce love for her young sons, she intensifies her explorative pursuit through depth psychology, the Chinese arts of the life force and the ways of the Lipan Apache. Her understanding comes alive as she learns the deep language of her relationships, body, psyche, spirit, and the earth. She comes to terms with life on many levels. At once practical and integrated, Schell’s approach to living leads to a paradigm shift and wellness.

With writing that is easy to understand, Norma Schell encourages those suffering from disease to become knowledgeable with the many healing forces that lead to integrated, healthy and joyous lives. Heal From The Heart is a rare story of recovery from multiple sclerosis that inspires hope, wellness and vitality.

About this title

About the Author

The author, Norma Schell, is a health professional with a Bachelor of Science Degree in Nursing from the University of Colorado and an Master of Arts Degree in Counseling Psychology from Lewis and Clark College. She is a Licensed Professional Counselor in Oregon and Washington, a Nationally Certified Counselor and a Nationally Registered Group Psychotherapist.

Schell’s adventurous international travels broke through her conventional approach to life. The beauty of the countries, as well as, the philosophies, the struggle and conflicting richness of their cultures inspired investigation of her parochial thinking.

Norma’s childhood of living on the land on the family farm in Nebraska, her continued study of nature, tracking, wilderness survival and aboriginal ways gives her perspective for life. Schell’s working relationship with the body, nature and the deep psyche teaches her awareness of the profound, deeply meaningful spirit and integrated totality of all things.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Diagnostic Crisis

As though it happened yesterday, I see that Oregon winter afternoon in 1982. The day was rainy, gray and gloomy like my prognosis. I hate the perpetual, ashen, Oregon clouds that arrived months ago. Like my disease, the sunless sky weighs me down. As I lie on my bed waiting for the meditation tape to begin, I watch the rain drops pound against the French window. The driving rain collects in tiny rivulets that stream, like tears, down the glass pain. With family duties and graduate school obligations, I have so much to do. Yet, I have to interrupt my day. I am compelled to rest, to meditate regularly if I want to live.

For years, I have pushed myself. When exhausted, I worked anyway. I know no different way to be. In college, I learned to work nights, attend day classes, ski or date in the late afternoon. I found I could go three days without sleep before crashing. I rely on myself. I must. As long as I can remember everyone has expected it. I don t want to take time to rest. To lie around is a waste of my time. Especially, I don t like to surrender to my runaway thoughts and painful emotions. I feel resentful, constrained and depressed by my prescription to stop, but I will myself to do so anyway.

I can t remember being free of muscle tension, weakness and spasms in my legs. Pain riddles my neck, shoulders and legs. Tingling plagues me day and night, like large ant colonies living under the skin of my limbs. Sometimes these feelings of paresthesia move to my face. The sensation often feels like electric fence impulses on the family farm. The tingling and numbness are uncontrolled. Nothing I do diminishes them. I know about this paresthesia because both my uncle and brother have multiple sclerosis and complain about this relentless, neurological distress. I can sleep only in short, fitful periods. The paresthesia awakens me. Lack of sleep exasperates me and leads to a cycle of chronic fatigue. The persistent aggravation and fatigue fuel my hopelessness and anxiety. If I stay busy, I can ignore my problems.

While I can t remember when I began to feel so sick, I clearly remember the day I climbed the stairs leading to the second story of the house. Too fatigued to go on, I sat down on the top step to recover. "I m having a terrible day! What s wrong with me?" I chide myself. "I can t get my work done. Now I can t even walk up the stairs." Depressed and hopeless, I look down at my shoes. The toe of my right shoe is badly scuffed. The damaged shoe is concrete evidence of my encroaching paralysis.

I knew I kicked my toes into steps when I was tired. Yet, until this moment, I had failed to see the dreadful pattern of my problem. The scuffed shoe shatters my psychological defense. Now I must face the painful reality of my physical deterioration. With a shudder of panic, I realize I chronically kick into curbs, and bump into doorways, corners and furniture with my unwieldy body. I finally acknowledge my right leg is very weak, and poor coordination and imbalance accompany my fatigue and tingling. Sometimes, I suffer flickering vision, an indication that my optic nerves are diseased. Years earlier, I suffered weeks of total numbness below my waist. Since then my problems have mounted gradually. With slow subtleness, unease turned into disease--and became my version of normal.

As a registered nurse, now I can no longer deny the poor condition of my immune system. Still undiagnosed, I frequently experience headaches, gastrointestinal upsets and upper respiratory infections. Persistent allergies progressively worsen, even though I take injections. The long list of symptoms crashes in on me. At last, I admit to myself I am not just having a bad day... I am seriously ill.

The neurologist kindly says he is sorry about what he has to tell me. His gentle personal demeanor is a stark contrast to his deadly pronouncement: "You have a classic case of multiple sclerosis." As I sit alone, he predicts I will deteriorate and die prematurely. My legs will go first. I recoil as he says the demyelinating sheath on my spinal cord and brain will interrupt the nerve impulses until I finally become paralyzed. My heart aches as the doctor suggests my respiratory system will be the last to fail. I am instructed not to live in a house with stairs or to buy a car with a standard transmission--in preparation for my paralysis.

Images of my deteriorating uncle and brother vividly flash through my mind. I see a fast-forward view of my uncle Carl s deterioration from cane to wheelchair, to bed, then death. My mind s eye views my brother s struggling walk and weakened body. At 47, he has suffered several disabling crises and is far from a healthy man. As the doctor speaks, my head buzzes and my ears roar. Everything in me protests. I attempt to block out his words and my sickening pictures. I want to scream for someone to stop this nightmare! Inside, I cry out this can t be my story! I feel desperate to survive it.

*Post-publication permission for excerpt from Thou Shalt Not be Aware, Alice Miller by Pluto Press

Edition details

• Publisher: Norma Schell
• Publication date: 2001
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 0971050708
• ISBN 13: 9780971050709
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 194