Change through the Prism of Skiing & Supershaped Head Opioid Skis
‘The measure of intelligence is the ability to change' -Albert Einstein
The ability to change…For those like Albert Einstein, they understand the power and significance of being able to possess the ability to change. As the greatest minds have discovered, change is as essential to the evolution of life as water is to cure one’s dehydration. However, as a society, we are often taught to fear change. That change is something bad and those that disagree have not experienced so called “real change”. Quick side note, there is no such thing as “real change” but that’s a different post. These same people argue that the antidote for change is routine, get a 9-5 job with 2.323 kids then retire at 65 and you will never have to suffer through change. So, who is right, Albert Einstein or society, is the ability to change needed to be able to evolve into a higher intelligence or is change something to be fought against, something that only brings chaos and frustration that can be cured by establishing a safe and reliable routine to one’s life. Here is my chronic pain and patient perspective on the topic of change.
Let’s start with my diagnosis of the lifelong illness, rheumatoid arthritis. Current literature argues this is a life altering diagnosis for which it is expected that I will need to morn my “old” life, whatever that means. Correct me if I’m wrong, according to the latest research I need to make space for this life altering event before I can begin to move forward with my new life as a rheumatoid arthritis patient. To be perfectly frank, not only don’t I understand this logic of making space, but I also believe the foundation of this approach is routed in society’s belief that change is a bad thing.
Change, through the prism of skiing might help me explain my train of thought. One of the hardest things to learn and teach new skiers is the idea that most runs require you to never make the same turn twice in a row. Snow, fall line changes (if you are not familiar with this term a fall line is the path a tennis ball would take if you rolled it down a hill), crowded runs, obstacles in a run (for an example, trees), and weather can cause a skier to have to adjust what type of turn they need to make in order to remain in control in order to finish their current run. Now think of skiing a run as analogous with life. Having to change my turn shape due to a fall line change is equivalent to receiving a rheumatoid arthritis diagnosis at some point in my life. Just like I can’t change runs in the middle due to a fall line change, I still must live my life with my new rheumatoid arthritis diagnosis. If the run and my life are the same, then nothing has changed. I’m still required to get to the end of both regardless of what happens during.
If you have never skied, please understand there is a reason why idiots like me become ski instructors; it isn’t rocket science which is good because neither am I. Skiing is quite simple when you break it down, it consists of is an edge, flat ski, then the other edge. Congrats, you are now as smart of a skier as most experts. The actual ski is a tool to help one go from an edge, flat ski, back to an edge.
Continuing with the unplanned use of skiing to help share the idea of change from a chronic pain perspective, think of my choice of skis as like my choice of using opioids as a pain management tool. Since skiing is nothing more than edge, flat ski, edge, one might think that one pair of skis is the same as all other skis. One pain medication is no different than other pain medications. Yes, all skis turn right, turn left, go straight, and if you are a ski instructor, can go backwards too. The X factor is the ride through the turn.
A pair of beginner skis, for example, are softer and shorter than skis an expert might use. By being softer and shorter, they are easier to turn which can help build a beginner’s confidence and learn different turn shapes which helps with speed control. To put it in patient terms, a pair of beginner skis are equivalent to taking 2 Advil or Tylenol for pain. I know there are people in the chronic pain community that will tell you Advil and/or Tylenol does not work for chronic pain, they are wrong. A more accurate statement would be Advil and/or Tylenol did not provide enough relief for patients like me to be considered a good life, I tried this route which is why I’m confident in making such a definitive statement. This is very similar to the statement a pair of beginner skis do not provide enough performance and stability for me to make an epic run at my local ski resort.
Yes, I could spend $200 for a pair of beginner Head skis and go skiing. Yes, I could ski all season on them. No, they would not provide me with the same quality of life that a pair of $1,200 supershaped Head skis would. The reason is the beginner skis would feel like noodles under my feet the faster I went. Since the beginner skis would shake, rattle, and roll while I tipped them on their edges, more than likely I wouldn’t be able to ski on icer conditions or in the bumps with them for example. The shaking and rattling would prevent the edge from engaging. At the very least, I would feel so insecure on ice or in the bumps that I wouldn’t want to ski in any conditions with them. Advil and Tylenol would be like a beginner ski for me. Yes, I could get through or cope through life on Advil. Yes, I might even be able to become accomplished on these over-the-counter pain relievers. However, it would not be easy or a high quality of life; I would still be in higher amounts of pain and would probably need injections even more frequently than I already do now. Opioids would be more analogous to the $1,200 supershaped Head skis. Not only will I be able to enjoy the run more, but I would also look considerably better while skiing (looking good is how the girls will notice me). In addition, I would be able to work on improving my skiing ability instead of just finishing a run or coping through life.
There is a stupid joke about how the only constants in life are taxes and death. I say stupid because the only true constant in life is change. Sometimes I need my opioid supershaped Head skis, sometimes I could get by with my Advil beginner skis, sometimes I might need a cognitive behavior therapy season pass to be able to choose which skis I might need for the day. The key is what do I need for today, not what happened yesterday. Just because I have a rheumatoid arthritis diagnosis doesn’t mean my dream of heliskiing in Alaska needs to die. It doesn’t mean one’s childhood dream of becoming an astrophysicist, or lawyer, or porn star needs to die. All my diagnosis means is that life has brought the need for different tools, ideas, benchmarks before I go skiing.
Since I’m on a roll, I want to touch on a subject that is controversial in the chronic pain community for reasons I’ve never fully understood by continuing to use skiing as a foundation. Cognitive behavioral therapy or sometimes called mindfulness. Mindfulness has been used longer and more successfully than opiates yet too many have seemed to adopted an opioid or bust mentality.
As I’ve mentioned throughout this post, skiing is not rocket science which is why morons like me enjoy it so much. Edge, flat ski, edge is not hard to understand nor requires great athletic skill, says the guy who routinely trips over his own shadow. One can learn to ski simply by trying, and trying, and trying again. In other words, experience. Experience is a great professor…if we are willing to actively listen. That said, I now know that I had no idea how to ski until I took an associate level certification prep clinic my second year as a ski instructor. Yes, before the clinic I could ski comfortably with just about everyone on the mountain at any given time or ability. That came from my experience from skiing 20 to 50 times a year for the previous 10 years. Robin Young, who was the prep clinic clinician when I took it, could ski. He could ski us, who were about half his age, into the ground despite the fact his knees were held together by duct tape and his smile. He was especially fun to watch in the bumps, dude could turn like no other.
In addition to his incredible talent and passion for skiing, Robin knew how to make a bunch of new instructors better. Robin could break skiing down to the point so we could work on our edging, then on our flat ski, then back onto a different edge skill set. He pushed us to think of the skill of balance in new ways, he made us finally understand the art of skiing and not just skiing so we could teach it to others. Probably most impressively, he created an environment where we learned how to only focus only on skiing while we made turns. Our lives could be on fire in the valley, but while we were on the mountain it was about becoming better skiers by finally learning how to ski like no other.
Cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) or mindfulness is taking an associate level certification class for chronic pain. In breaks down our pain so we can focus on what is needed now to have a higher quality of life. Instead of the art of skiing, CBT or mindfulness helps develop our skill set for the art of living. Yes, we can learn much of this through the experience of life. However, we can become masters of the art of living with pain if we can find a Robin Young to help us. Yes, that sounds cheesy or something from a Hallmark movie, but it doesn’t make it any less true. A life in pain is hard enough, why not bring in a ski instructor like Robin to make skiing or life more enjoyable and easier to do.
I probably should have made this declaration in my opening, but this look at this idea of change only pertains to my life and my life only. I write and share in hopes my vulnerability helps someone else while improving my own storytelling capabilities. This is not, I repeat NOT, a commentary on anyone else’s journey. There is no reading between the lines with this post. I’m doing nothing but trying to share my patient story and perspective as best as I can.
Time for the earth-shattering conclusion. Skiing is life, life is change. Change is neither a positive nor negative part of life, it is just life. Like skiing, it is just that simple. My diagnosis of rheumatoid arthritis, nor for that matter, my falling off a cliff while rock climbing didn’t change my life, they are events in my life. Life changed my life simply by continuing to life, my head hurts after typing and processing that statement. Maybe if I can continue to focus on today, this current run, instead of focusing on what a doctor told me many yesterdays ago, I can continue to have a great life while at the same time having the necessary opioid and Advil skis to get through the bad days. This is the true antidote to any change life events might send my way.
