The remains of King Richard III, found beneath a Leicester car park. Photograph: University of Leicester/Corbis
The
discovery of the bones of Richard III, lying quietly under a Leicester city council car park for 500-odd years, is historically fascinating and imaginatively compelling. But, inspecting the newspaper photograph of those meticulously laid-out, gingery and desiccated human remains, I am startled by another sensation: that of raw, physical connection. Because Richard and I share not only our height – a surprisingly tall five foot eight – but also our skeletal deformity:
scoliosis. Though his was far more pronounced (and therefore disabling) than mine, still, just like him, my adult life has been dogged by an "S" curvature of the spine.
I was in my late teens, an energetic ballet and swimming type, when one day without warning my back went into spasm and I found myself crunched over in agony. I think I saw a chiropractor and that was that. Except that over the next few years, it only took one wrong move – sneezing, laughing, reaching for a drink of water – and I'd be suddenly skewed, immobile and in pain for days.
At 28, I had a baby. Then – rather quickly – another, and another. By the time the smallest was a few months old, I rarely had a day when I could move freely and without pain. Life went on – I still went to work – but I was a different person, rarely upright, never far from a bag of frozen peas, entertaining my children from the bed or the floor.
Finally, I had an MRI scan. The consultant grabbed a plastic spinal column off his desk and, with one vicious twist, bent it out of shape. "This is you," he said, demonstrating how my "mild to moderate" scoliosis was wearing out my vertebrae. I swallowed and asked him if swimming might help. He shrugged: "Not a lot. You'll find you get progressively more immobile as you get older." I was 31 years old. I sat in the hospital car park and cried.
In fact, I was lucky. An insightful friend insisted I try Pilates and today, after more than 20 years of twice-weekly classes, my scoliosis is hugely less pronounced – mild rather than moderate – and my fear of immobility mostly laid to rest. On a bad day, one shoulder and one hip will be noticeably higher than the other, and I'll ache a bit (all right, a lot). But I stretch every day – every hour if I have to – and at 52, I rather like that I'm now comparatively supple for my age.
And though over the years my scoliosis has frightened, exhausted and (frankly) enraged me, I now wouldn't want to be without it. It's taught me patience and – in constructive and unexpected ways – about pain. It's taught me to observe myself with curiosity and kindness, rather than tension and terror. More than anything, though, it's taken me on this wild, uncompromising journey through my body, and shown me how to relish the light, unthinking joy of movement. The truth is, I don't mind being like this. My deformity has become my friend.
Still, looking at what's left of the poor Plantagenet king, I find it hard to view that ancient, twisted snake of vertebrae without a shiver of empathic pain. Our bones are everything, the very core of us. They carry us through life – far more viscerally individual than those other pumping organs we can scarcely visualise. And because they (literally) create the shape and poise of us, even long-dead ones seem to contain clues of the living people we once were.
I know enough about living with scoliosis to understand that a curve like his would have informed and warped every moment of the day. He would have woken stiff and skewed, only to have to negotiate his way through a day of disability and paralysing spasm. Poor man. It touches me deeply to see his deformity – his and mine – lying there visible and exposed and still somehow pungent, when everything else has been rinsed by time and decay.
, a series of tools for Scoliosis prevention and treatment. The set includes his book
. Dr Kevin Lau is a graduate in Doctor of Chiropractic from RMIT University in Melbourne Australia and Masters in Holistic Nutrition. He is a member of International Society On Scoliosis Orthopaedic and Rehabilitation Treatment (SOSORT), the leading international society on conservative treatment of spinal deformities. In 2006 I was awarded the "Best Health-care Provider Awards" by the largest Newspaper publication in Singapore on October 18 2006 as well as being interviewed on Primetime Channel News Asia as well as other TV and Radio. For more information on Dr Kevin Lau, watch his interviews or get a free sneak peek of his book, go to:
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Seeing Richard III's skeleton, I felt a shiver of empathic pain. Scoliosis twisted both our spines
By
Julie MyersonThe remains of King Richard III, found beneath a Leicester car park. Photograph: University of Leicester/Corbis
The
discovery of the bones of Richard III, lying quietly under a Leicester city council car park for 500-odd years, is historically fascinating and imaginatively compelling. But, inspecting the newspaper photograph of those meticulously laid-out, gingery and desiccated human remains, I am startled by another sensation: that of raw, physical connection. Because Richard and I share not only our height – a surprisingly tall five foot eight – but also our skeletal deformity:
scoliosis. Though his was far more pronounced (and therefore disabling) than mine, still, just like him, my adult life has been dogged by an "S" curvature of the spine.
I was in my late teens, an energetic ballet and swimming type, when one day without warning my back went into spasm and I found myself crunched over in agony. I think I saw a chiropractor and that was that. Except that over the next few years, it only took one wrong move – sneezing, laughing, reaching for a drink of water – and I'd be suddenly skewed, immobile and in pain for days.
At 28, I had a baby. Then – rather quickly – another, and another. By the time the smallest was a few months old, I rarely had a day when I could move freely and without pain. Life went on – I still went to work – but I was a different person, rarely upright, never far from a bag of frozen peas, entertaining my children from the bed or the floor.
Finally, I had an MRI scan. The consultant grabbed a plastic spinal column off his desk and, with one vicious twist, bent it out of shape. "This is you," he said, demonstrating how my "mild to moderate" scoliosis was wearing out my vertebrae. I swallowed and asked him if swimming might help. He shrugged: "Not a lot. You'll find you get progressively more immobile as you get older." I was 31 years old. I sat in the hospital car park and cried.
In fact, I was lucky. An insightful friend insisted I try Pilates and today, after more than 20 years of twice-weekly classes, my scoliosis is hugely less pronounced – mild rather than moderate – and my fear of immobility mostly laid to rest. On a bad day, one shoulder and one hip will be noticeably higher than the other, and I'll ache a bit (all right, a lot). But I stretch every day – every hour if I have to – and at 52, I rather like that I'm now comparatively supple for my age.
And though over the years my scoliosis has frightened, exhausted and (frankly) enraged me, I now wouldn't want to be without it. It's taught me patience and – in constructive and unexpected ways – about pain. It's taught me to observe myself with curiosity and kindness, rather than tension and terror. More than anything, though, it's taken me on this wild, uncompromising journey through my body, and shown me how to relish the light, unthinking joy of movement. The truth is, I don't mind being like this. My deformity has become my friend.
Still, looking at what's left of the poor Plantagenet king, I find it hard to view that ancient, twisted snake of vertebrae without a shiver of empathic pain. Our bones are everything, the very core of us. They carry us through life – far more viscerally individual than those other pumping organs we can scarcely visualise. And because they (literally) create the shape and poise of us, even long-dead ones seem to contain clues of the living people we once were.
I know enough about living with scoliosis to understand that a curve like his would have informed and warped every moment of the day. He would have woken stiff and skewed, only to have to negotiate his way through a day of disability and paralysing spasm. Poor man. It touches me deeply to see his deformity – his and mine – lying there visible and exposed and still somehow pungent, when everything else has been rinsed by time and decay.
is the founder of
Health In Your Hands, a series of tools for Scoliosis prevention and treatment. The set includes his book
Your Plan for Natural Scoliosis Prevention and Treatment, a companion
Scoliosis Exercises for Prevention and Correction DVD and the innovative new iPhone application
ScolioTrack. Dr Kevin Lau is a graduate in Doctor of Chiropractic from RMIT University in Melbourne Australia and Masters in Holistic Nutrition. He is a member of International Society On Scoliosis Orthopaedic and Rehabilitation Treatment (SOSORT), the leading international society on conservative treatment of spinal deformities. In 2006 I was awarded the "Best Health-care Provider Awards" by the largest Newspaper publication in Singapore on October 18 2006 as well as being interviewed on Primetime Channel News Asia as well as other TV and Radio. For more information on Dr Kevin Lau, watch his interviews or get a free sneak peek of his book, go to:
Website -
http://www.hiyh.info.
ScolioTrack Website -
http://www.ScolioTrack.com.
Facebook -
https://www.facebook.com/HealthInYourHands.
Youtube -
http://www.youtube.com/user/DrKevinLau.
Twitter -
http://www.Twitter.com/DrKevinLau.
