MSI Press Blog

  Balance was always hard for me, though I loved walking on the raised edges of sidewalks as a kid—and falling off, getting on again, falling off again. Not your most graceful "athlete"—no one would consider me an athlete (and I still don't, just someone initially enamored with the Ninja Warriors and now staying strong as a 75-year-old single mom of two disabled adults for whom I am physically and medically responsible. You might call me clumsy, at least until the U.S. Army got hold of me. Those morning calisthenics improved everything about my physicality, including my balance. And the obstacle courses—fun (except for the 6-foot wall—challenging for someone less than 5-feet tall)—really helped with understanding body and space. Proprioception —that’s the word. When Brittany got hold of me, she realized that I needed work on balance. Balance integrates proprioception, muscular coordination, and mental focus. She realized I needed help with all of these. We began with ...

  The following is a precerpt (book excerpt prior to publication) from Grandma's Ninja Training Diary (Leaver & Renz). "Help! I've fallen an can't get up!" I see articles all the time about people falling and being unable to get back up. It’s a common fear—and for good reason. I lived that reality when my 300-pound husband fell and I couldn’t lift him on my own. Strong as I am, I’m not dead-weight-a-foot-taller-than-me strong. Firemen came to help, twice in one day. That second fall sent him to the hospital, where scans revealed stage 4 Cancer of Unknown Primary—no symptoms beforehand. During his final months, falls became frequent. If I was out grabbing groceries or medicine, he’d be on the floor for long minutes before help arrived. He lost 50 pounds, but I still couldn’t lift him alone. It took neighbors, phone calls, and coordinated hoisting to get him back up. Now, my doctor frets over my own risk of falling, especially with osteopenia—courtesy of omepr...

  Times were tense. I was caregiving for my husband, dying from cancer and on chemotherapy that required multiple trips a week to a distant hospital, my spina bifida daughter in a city a half-hour away who had lost her caregiver during the days of covid, and a CHARGE Syndrome adult son living at home -- and trying to run a business at the same time. The son tried to help out as best he could with his own care, but he did not always have the skills to do so. To wit, the scene above that ensued when he tried to help out by making his own breakfast -- one that at least brought a moment of levity into a too-tense life. Speaking from personal experience, the spouse (in this case wife, but it really does not much which spouse is pressed into the role) who ends up as the caregiver for a cancer patient is in a no-win situation, emotionally and physically. The role of spouse is to support the spouse and to navigate through life together, IMHO. That complicates the matter of caregiving. The ...

Nearly everyone I talk to these days is feeling more anxious than usual, and what's "usual" now is already a state of mild tension. Worry is highly contagious, and while the gentle souls with sensitive nervous systems are particularly at risk, most people are at least slightly vulnerable. Worry is not just a side effect of what's going on in this world. Worry itself causes all kinds of health, mental health, relationship, and financial breakdowns. I am not suggesting you start worrying about how much you worry! But it's time we start talking about the importance of clearing out the junk in our minds and creating health and balance there instead. Read the rest of Julia's post HERE . Julia is author of Lessons of Labor.     

Tonight, husband Carl brought home three large bags of groceries and needed help bringing them up the stairs to our second-floor living space. I reached for all three. "Be careful," he said, pointing to one bag. "It is very heavy." I lifted it. "No, it's not," I told him. "Yes, it is," he insisted. Well, actually, no, it was not. It would have been a year ago, but not now. I easily carried all three bags together, two in one hand, and the supposedly heavy bag in the ohter, up our 17 stairs, held all in one hand to open the door, and then lifted them all easily onto the counter which is almost chest-high for me. If I needed an assessment, there I had it. Of course, though, I want something a little more formal albeit informal, meaning my own assessment. Beginning from this point, though, I think I will pull my trainer into helping me develop a formal assessment. She says that I have made significant progress, both vi...