A Lesson on Chronic Pain from a Medieval Town

In June, I had the pleasure and privilege of visiting Finland and Estonia to present joint research on medical provider wellness at the International Council of Nurses Congress in Helsinki.

As a chronically-ill therapist, Helsinki really felt like one space made up of mini-accommodations around every corner from multiple seating options in every park to foolproof public transportation (photos to follow below for those of you who find joy in the otherwise mundane).

I also learned so much about provider and patient wellness from nursing professionals representing all parts of the world. For those of you who are trying to stay well in a chronically ill body, it can be difficult to assess exactly what your limits are in your body, especially during international travel.

If you’re chronically ill, this story is probably going to sound pretty familiar to you.

Part of my job as a therapist specializing in chronic illness is to explore the messages you’ve received as a chronically ill person:

1. Messages that your body IS capable even when it’s not - or at least not without accommodations (“You can’t be disabled, look at all you’ve accomplished” or “We never told you about your disability and treated you like everyone else”)

2. Messages that your body is NOT capable (“You can’t have a job/relationship with that illness” or “You don’t know your body’s limits like I do”)

Both messages have the ability to be helpful or not so helpful. In June, I needed to challenge that second message.

We spent most days at the conference in Helsinki, the capital of Finland, and then took a ferry to Tallin, Estonia, for a day trip. It’s a beautiful capital that has protected much of its historic city center. From 13th century towers and defensive walls to cafes and bookshops, we could have spent days exploring.

As with most older European settlements, the top of Old Town of Tallin requires an insane amount of stair climbing to reach (let’s be real, I’m originally from Florida where the highest mountain is “Space Mountain”).

The message I had internalized: “That’s not for my joints”.

And so I explored other parts of town, winding up through more back alleys, and old, slightly-leveled fortifications.

And to my shock, I somehow ended up at the exact lookout I had seen from the bottom that I had decided was not for me.

Sometimes we need permission to rest our bodies, and sometimes we need permission to test our limits without fear of damaging our bodies (“hug the bear” as Jason Therrien DPT says).

Here’s to expanding your body’s limits without the fear of expansion.

Thank you to the kind German couple that offered to take my picture where I’m still trying to work out how I ended up there.