Archive for Occupational Therapy

My Second OT Visit

Note: For information about my first OT visit, see my previous post.

For my second appointment, I showed up slightly less of a wreck than I did at the first, but still in need of some grounding. This time, the OT used the Thumper, a big vibrating machine that she ran back and forth over my back. The vibration was so strong that I could feel it inside my ears. It was another piece of heaven.

Once I got more grounded, we talked about how the past week’s activities had gone and discussed new activities to try in the coming week.

Therapeutic Brushing
After hearing about my negative experience with the brushing, the OT agreed that I should discontinue it. Instead of the brushing, we tried using soft bean bags and tapping them on my arms and legs. It felt okay at the office, but when I tried it at home, it felt distinctly like hitting myself, which is a trigger. She had also mentioned that I might try using a soft fabric that I find comforting. I have tried using the velvet fabrics I have, and they feel okay on my arms, but I still resist the whole activity. Trauma stuff, I think. Anyway, I do what I can.

Drawing an Infinity Sign
When I told my OT how frustrated I felt drawing the infinity sign, she suggested that I just imagine a large one on the wall and track it with my eyes. I’ve been doing that every day, and it feels really great. I can actually move my eyes without moving my head! After 50 years of doing it the other way, that really amazes me. I even find myself playing around with the exercise at work. I’ll look at something, and then shift my eyes to another object without moving my head. Everyone is so busy looking at all the objects in the store that no one notices the strange woman in the linen department doing eye exercises.

Learning the Cross-Crawl
At this visit, my OT taught me something called a “cross crawl,” in which I lift my right hand and then use it to touch my upraised left knee, and then use my left hand to touch my upraised right knee. The point is to cross the center line in my body in order to get comfortable with the parts of my body working independently. I find this particular exercise very easy, as it reminds me of various karate exercises that also work with crossing the body’s center line.

Singing
After hearing that the vibrations from the Thumper felt like they were inside my ears, the OT told me to sing every day. She said the vibrations would help to activate and soothe my vestibular system, which controls balance and movement, and is based in the inner ear. I always sing when I work out anyway, so this has been an easy one to practice each day. I also want to relearn Torah cantillation. In fact, the book and a small keyboard have been sitting in my loft, beckoning me for months. I’m hoping to add cantillation to my OT routine at some point.

Proprioceptive Activities and Late-Night Snacking
As I mentioned in an earlier post, the propriocetive system provides information about the relative positions of the parts of the body. Engaging the proprioceptive system includes how we feel the joints in our body and the kind of pressure we put on them. The right amount of pressure is very soothing. 

I find that I do a number of activities to engage the proprioceptive system, such as using a weighted blanket and weighted vests, bicycling, taking walks, doing my artwork, and fidgeting with whatever object is handy. I wondered whether my tendency to eat a lot before bedtime is also related to my need for proprioceptive activities. My OT said that chewing on things engages the joints in the jaw in a powerful way, which is why I like chewy, crunchy things at bedtime. I’m using them to calm myself down.

I don’t particularly like using food for this purpose on a regular basis, and she suggested that I try a different proprioceptive activity when I feel food cravings without being hungry. It’s going to take a while to work out of the habit of using food to calm myself at night, but the amount I eat seems to be diminishing as I do other activities. Last night, for instance, I spent some time doing my artwork and ended up eating a lot less than usual before bedtime.

When all is said and done, I’m enjoying the process of occupational therapy. Because of my executive dysfunction, I’m still having difficulty consistently working the exercises into my daily routine. But I’ll get there.

2009 by Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg

My First OT visit

Since my sensory assessment, I’ve had two visits with my Occupational Therapist, and they have been unlike any visits I’ve ever had with a health professional. No matter what state I’m in when I arrive, I know that she will offer me ways to ground and to feel held.

For my first appointment, I ended up on her doorstep feeling really crummy. I was having a flare-up of a very painful condition that no one has been able to explain. Perhaps once or twice a year, I get a terrible pain in my bladder, like I have a urinary tract infection, except that when I use the bathroom, the pain radiates from my bladder, right up through the center of my body, down my arms, all the way to my hands and the tips of my fingers. I yell and cry until it passes. I’ve been checked many times for UTIs, and it’s not a UTI. No one seems to know what it is. (If anyone reading this knows what it is, please tell me!)

I told my OT what was happening, and she said, “What would you like to try? The big heavy blanket? The Thumper?” I went for the big heavy blanket and immediately felt comforted. As I was lying on the floor, enjoying my little piece of heaven, the OT asked me a number of questions about my sensory diet. For some reason, I was able to rattle off a list, even though I hadn’t made one on paper yet. Here’s my sensory diet, so far:

1. Using a 15-lb weighted blanket when I get home from work and when I go to sleep at night.
2. Using a 4-lb or an 8-lb weighted vest when I need to ground.
3. Holding onto a velvet skirt and scarf, touching them with my hands and rubbing them on my face.
4. Bicycling on a stationary stand.
5. Playing with a gyroscope on a wire track, watching it spin around and around.
6. Playing with a magic wand that has spinning lights.
7. Watching my spoon mobile spin around and around.
8. Working on art projects–bending wire, putting things together and taking them apart, and watching them spin and sparkle in the light.

When I started feeling better, I got out from under the blanket and we worked on some exercises for me to do at home. These included therapeutic brushing, drawing an infinity sign, and lying on the floor watching a spinning mobile.

Therapeutic Brushing
My OT told me to try therapeutic brushing, twice a day, on my arms and legs. The purpose of the brushing was to “wake up” the nerves in my extremities, with the aim of helping to reduce my tactile defensiveness. She warned me that if I have any trauma issues, the therapeutic brushing might start unlocking memories in my body and generally erode my defenses. The brushing can also be very over-stimulating, even though it is supposed to be calming.

At first, the brushing at home seemed to go well, but very quickly, I began to resist it. I felt myself getting more and more anxious and over-stimulated as the week went on, and I began to feel somewhat raw and undefended. I came to the conclusion that after many years of trauma recovery work, I’ve stripped off as many defensive layers as I need to. The remaining ones are necessary and I’m not willing to mess with them. So, I stopped the brushing midway through the week.

Drawing an Infinity Sign
We worked on having me draw an infinity sign, tracking the pen with my eyes without moving my head. I found this exercise a bit frustrating. The purpose was to help me train my eyes to work independently of the rest of my body, with the aim of diminishing the dizziness from my gravitational insecurity.

I noticed that I when I used my left hand (my dominant hand) to draw, I tended to stare at the dot at the center of the sign and track the rest with my peripheral vision. When I consciously tried to track, my eyes seemed to go faster than my hand. When I switched to my right hand, however, I was able to synchronize my eyes with my hand, perhaps because I had to concentrate harder when I used my non-dominant hand. It’s also possible that my left brain is my visual center. I am the left-handed daughter of a left-handed mother, and that can mean that the typical functions of each hemisphere are switched. In any case, drawing with my right hand seemed to click.

Watching a Spinning Mobile
I was supposed to lie on the floor in my loft, watching my mobile spin and tracking the circle without moving my head. I tried it. Once. I immediately got nauseous and dizzy. I didn’t try it again from the floor. I can watch it spin nicely at eye level, so I’m sticking with that.

© 2009 by Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg

My Sensory Assessment

Today, I met with my OT to discuss the results of my sensory assessment. Her report was full of very helpful information. Things that have mystified me all my life began to make sense. 

I’ll share the highlights.

Here is a list of the assessment tools she used:

Interview
Developmental/Sensory History Questionnaire
Adolescent/Adult Sensory Profile (Brown & Dunn)
Quick Neurological Screening Test-II (QNST-II)
Gravitational Insecurity Screening Tool (May-Benson, AJOT 2007)
Subtests from: PEERAMID-2 (Levine)
Ocular Motor Control Screening
Clinical Observations of gross motor, fine motor, and balance skills

In her report, she defined a number of terms that were helpful in understanding how my sensory processing system works. I’ll use her definitions as I discuss how they relate to my particular situation.

Sensory Processing
“Sensory processing is the continual process of the brain filtering, interpreting and organizing sensory information from the environment and from our body. We use this information to determine what is going on in our environment (external stimuli) and in our body (internal stimuli) and how to respond in just the right way for the situation. When effective, we can filter and prioritize incoming information and determine if it should be noticed or disregarded and respond in an adaptive, purposeful manner.”

Needless to say, I have difficulties with “filtering, interpreting, and organizing sensory information.”

Sensory Processing Disorder and Sensory Modulation Disorder
“Sensory Processing Disorder (SPD) is the impaired ability to interpret, organize and make sense of various simultaneous sensations entering the brain. The brain may not filter the stimuli or it may misinterpret the stimuli resulting in various reactions including fight, flight, freeze and/or fright responses. Sensory processing disorders have subtypes: sensory modulation disorder (sensory over and under responsive types and sensory seeking), sensory discrimination, and sensory-based motor disorders.” (Note: SPD is not yet an official diagnosis, though many OTs are working very hard to make sure that it appears in the DSM-V.)

“Sensory modulation refers to one’s responses to stimuli. When one is not able to regulate the intensity and types of responses to stimuli (internal or external), this is called a sensory modulation disorder. One may over respond, under respond to stimuli and/or seek stimuli.”

The assessment shows that I have sensory modulation disorder of the sensory over-responsivity (SOR) type. In other words, my nervous system is highly sensitive to visual, auditory, and tactile stimuli, as well as to movement. No surprises there.


Dyspraxia
Dyspraxia is “a deficit in the ability to plan, sequence, and execute a novel motor task.”

The evaluation concludes that I have mild dyspraxia when doing fine motor tasks, such as knitting, and that I have moderate dyspraxia when doing gross motor tasks, such as karate.

To learn to knit, I used the instructions in a beginner’s knitting book. I found it difficult to figure out from the drawings how to hold the needles, how to place the yarn on them, and how to do the various stitches. It was hard to translate from the picture in the book to what was happening in my hands. Fortunately, I am a tenacious person, so I just kept reading the instructions and trying each task until I got the desired result.

Once I’ve learned a skill, I can repeat it. I sometimes get out of practice, but after a few tries and mistakes, I generally remember what to do.

As far as learning karate goes, I had a somewhat more difficult time. Fortunately, I learned karate from some very patient senseis who respected the way that I figure things out. For example, I was not able to learn a kata (a sequence of moves) just by watching and copying my sensei, as most people did. The process I used was comparable to the one I use to translate visual information from a picture book. I learned the katas by doing the following tasks:

1. Film someone doing the kata (or buy a video if I felt too shy to ask).

2. Watch the video at home and write down all the steps in sequence in a list.

3. Create a mnemonic for remembering when certain sequences are repeated or changed.

4. Diagram the directions in which I needed to move on a piece of paper, with items in the dojo noted so that I could orient myself properly. (All katas require that you face in each of the four directions. Sometimes sequences are repeated in each direction, sometimes sequences are slightly altered, and sometimes, new sequences are added.)

5. Practice the form at home while imagining that I was in the dojo.

When my sensei asked me to perform the kata while facing in a direction different from the one I had in my mind, I quietly panicked. For example, if when I practiced a kata, I imagined beginning the form by facing the window, I would become very agitated if my sensei asked me to demonstrate the form by starting in the direction of the door. Sometimes, I could do it, but it took a lot of practice to get the kata in my muscle memory, and I never lost my anxiety about having to begin in a different direction.

Gravitational Insecurity
From our discussion today, I learned that gravitational insecurity denotes a condition in which one cannot determine where one’s head is in relation to the earth. A person with gravitational insecurity is afraid of having his or her feet off the ground, and of having his or her head tipped backward. 

The evaluation concludes that I have severe gravitational insecurity, and that I rely to a very great extent on my vision to orient myself in space. I am particularly averse to any kind of rotational movement. I’ll let the report speak for itself here:

“A gravitational insecurity assessment was administered. She attempted and completed the following tasks: jumping, jumping over a line, swinging laterally on a platform swing, rocking herself laterally on a peanut-shaped physioball, stepping on and off a tilt board with little hesitation or cues and little to no emotional responses. Rachel quickly becomes dizzy when she stands on a chair and jumps from a chair with her eyes closed, and attempts to stand in tandem with her eyes closed. She was able to lie supine on a physioball and look up at the ceiling for a moment before needing to kneel and then lie on the floor due to severe dizziness. A weighted blanket was placed over her for 4 minutes as a grounding technique so that she could recover from this severe dizziness. Rachel stated that she became “nauseous” watching this therapist demonstrate rolling prone on the physioball and this task was omitted from the assessment assuming that her response would be aversive.”

Yes, I got nauseous just watching the OT tip her head backward!

Understanding the concept of gravitational insecurity explains a world of difficulties I’ve had with very simple tasks. For example, I generally resist any activity that entails having to move up or down, because when my head is in motion, I have a very difficult time orienting myself as to where the ground is. So, for example, I don’t like swinging up and down on a playground swing, but I can swing from side to side on a swing that I can stand on. When I swing from side to side, my head is in the same plane with the rest of my body and my feet do not move up or down.

Another example: As I write this post, the sun is going down, and I am going to have to get up and turn the light on. There are actually times when I sit here in the dark, using only the light from my screen to read the keys, because getting over to the light switch feels like such a production. I’m sitting on a futon on the floor, and the light switch is on the wall to my left, about two feet away. I can’t reach it from where I am, so my usual strategy is to move over toward it along the futon, staying in a sitting position, with my head remaining as still as possible. I then try to reach the light switch without getting up. It’s physically impossible for me to reach it from a sitting position, but that doesn’t stop me from trying. Because I’m writing about it right now, I’m conscious of the impossibility factor, and I’m aware that I’m going to have to find some other way to turn the light switch on.

Excuse me for a moment……

There, now it’s on. Guess how I did it? I carefully moved over onto my knees, raised my arm up, turned on the light, and then returned to a sitting position with a feeling of great relief. The entire time, my head remained in the same plane as the rest of my body. I made sure of it.

There are a number of other tasks that I resist doing because of gravitational insecurity: taking out pots or dishes from an upper or lower cabinet; emptying a dishrack and putting things away in an upper or lower cabinet; putting on my winter boots (because the task entails sitting, lifting my foot into the air, putting on the boot, and then crouching over my boot with my head toward the floor as I tie the laces); reaching up for my winter coat (because the peg is fairly high); taking showers (bath tubs are slippery and I have to close my eyes while I’m washing my hair); and other very basic things.

I told the OT that all my life, I’ve just assumed I was lazy. She said, no, I’m not lazy at all. To the contrary: For me to do these simple tasks is very hard work. It doesn’t look like it on the outside, but that’s what’s happening inside.

Amazing, isn’t it?

The report also made suggestions for treatment. I am going to begin seeing the OT once a week as soon as I can. I’ll talk more about various treatments as I go through this process.

© 2009 by Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg

Sensory Self-Defense

I learned something from my occupational therapist about sensory defensiveness that has proved very helpful.

Last week, before I went in for my appointment, my OT called to get some background information. At one point in the call, she asked me which senses get highly overloaded. I told her that I have a lot of trouble with visual and auditory stimuli, and that I also find light touch very difficult. For example, when my husband comes over to me while I’m writing and gently kisses me on the head, I feel like I want to execute a self-defense block and shout “Stop!” It’s the light touch combined with the fact that I also happen to be using another sense at the time that puts me over the top.

In describing the feelings of anger that rise inside me, I told my OT that I used to say to myself, “Girl, where is this anger coming from? You’ve got a lot of issues.” But now, I realize that it’s just my nervous system that can’t handle light touch or too much sensory input at once.

She very emphatically agreed, saying, “Yes, that’s right. It’s not psychological. It’s your nervous system defending itself.”

My nervous system defending itself.

Wow. That’s exactly right.

This morning, I had an experience in which, for the first time, I was able to watch this process and see the way it works. I was sitting down to breakfast and pouring water out of a Brita pitcher into a glass. I hadn’t realized that my husband had just filled the top of the pitcher with water, and that the water hadn’t gone through the filter yet. So, when I went to pour the water into the glass, all the unfiltered water in the top of the pitcher spilled all over the table.

I jumped backward, uttered an expletive, and got very upset. I found myself about to go upstairs and get angry at my husband, when I stopped and looked at what had happened. I’d been so startled by seeing the water spill unexpectedly, and by getting cold water on myself, that my nervous system was completely agitated. I thought, “Wow, I get it. This anger is just my nervous system defending itself.”

After cleaning up the spill, I walked upstairs and decided to talk with my husband about it. I said, “Honey, I think perhaps my nonverbal cue of leaving the top off the Brita pitcher when I first pour water in wasn’t direct enough. So, could you start leaving the top off the pitcher when the water hasn’t gone through the filter yet?  Or maybe leave the top on sideways, as a signal? I just spilled the water all over the table.” So we talked about it a bit and came up with some strategies, and that was very nice.

But I was still quite agitated. I was flapping my hands all over the place and lifting myself up and down on the balls of my feet. Before I left the room, I realized that I didn’t want my husband to think I was agitated because of him. So I said, “I want you to understand. I’m not angry at you at all. It may sound like it, but that’s because my nervous system is in overdrive. It’s not your fault. It’s just going to take a little while for me to wind down.” And then I went back to the kitchen and had breakfast.

What a change! In the past, a moment like that would have triggered an angry outburst. If it had happened when I was already overloaded and at my wit’s end, it might have turned into a meltdown.

So now I know that when I feel myself get angry over these small things, it’s no one’s fault. It’s just my nervous system defending itself.  I can just watch the feeling and listen to what it’s telling me. In this case, my nervous system was saying, “Hey! That was really unexpected, wet, cold, and messy. Please, clean up the spill, get me warm, and try to avoid this particular mishap again, because I really, really don’t like it.”

Imagine. If every Aspie in the world could verbalize that experience, and if other people could understand what it means. What a different experience of life that would be for everyone!

© 2009 by Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg