After my first three blasts of amatsu, I’m now down to a visit every month or so. I reckon I should have called in after flying off of Ruby, but I was so relieved that my brain wasn’t dripping out my ears, and that I could still do simple maths, that I figured everything was okay.

Wrong.

So, amatsu: it’s a treatment that takes into account the entire body, from bones to organs; works to improve circulation, tone, and the immune system; helps to realign the skeleton and enhance co-ordination; and basically work out kinks and revitalises the body and mind.

I can say, hand on heart, that it does all of the above. And I wouldn’t have believed that I could actually feel my right kidney, but yesterday, as my practitioner was working it around, or down, or something, I felt a shift as easily as I would feel someone touch my hand.

I guess I didn’t try to get an appointment after falling on my head, well… because I fell on my head and I wasn’t thinking straight? Nah, pure denial. If I can keep going, then everything must be fine, which is as good a definition for the state of desperate pretending as I’ve ever come across [if I do say so myself.]

The tension in my shoulders, apparently, was remarkable. This makes sense, obviously, as the stress of the landing would have had repercussions. I was so intent, though, into making sure my brain still worked that I forgot about the rest of my body. Nothing was broken. The bits that should have hurt, didn’t, as I was so focused on my noggin. With time to relax, it was apparent, to a professional, the parts of my body that hadn’t entirely relaxed themselves.

David said that the state of my shoulders and neck was exactly the same as those of the rugby players that come to him.

Dudes that hit each other on purpose, with their heads.

Right.

The key muscle seemed to be on the left side of my neck. I got fair warning, and it didn’t take long, but once he ‘got in there’ and worked down the muscle, I couldn’t help but audibly — hmmm. Groan isn’t correct. Scream? Too dramatic, and I didn’t, really. I exhaled with force. But once it was done, holy smoke, it was as if my entire upper body had been removed from a vise.

I went in to this whole deal looking to improve my balance, and I think it’s working, and I know it’s not going to work any better than it is, even with intervention, unless I start participating more fully in the process [translation: do those poxy sit ups!] But since this horseriding caper is full of dings and bangs, and there’s a way to go an sort them out in an extremely direct fashion, I don’t see this therapy drifting out of my life.

Apart from my head, I had this nagging thing in my right ankle, I had been so wobbly on Reb last Thursday, I must have strained it. I mentioned it, it got attention. I walked around a bit to check it out before I left. It was still at me. Back up on the table, more attention, got off, walked, better.

I woke up this morning, and the nagging, tight, sore, don’t-walk-on-it sensation is gone.

I think the best thing about this is that my practitioner is obviously a sportsman himself, and I think a conventional doctor would, like, yell at me, and tell me to stop riding, or to not go for a while, or something ridiculous. When David asked me if I’d been back after the fall, I just rolled my eyes, and he laughed. [Fell Saturday, back Tuesday. Yeah?] I’m not stupid — I went to A&E to get checked out, on the day. But as far as direct contact and direct results are concerned, this is the only game in town.

Couldn’t recommend this stuff more highly.

Don’t bother trying to Wiki this, unless you’d like some info on Japanese mythology…

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