January 2025 Still Point

I climbed the concrete steps to the house, trying to dodge the rambunctious rottweilers with heavy eyes and a tight back. When I reached the top step, the door swung open to reveal my madrina (Godmother) with open arms. As she wrapped me into a tight hug, I immediately felt lines of tears running down my face. “Ven mija, no te llores (come daughter, don’t cry)” she whispered, ushering me through the living room to the kitchen. Instantly I felt a rush of warmth wash over me as the gas stove burned to warm the pans. The smells of paprika, cumin and freshly made picadillo (meat and potatoes) wafted into my nose. The warmth of the kitchen eased my tense muscles as she beckoned me to join her at the large round bowl of masa. At her side, I watched her hands skillfully dig deep into the dough, kneading and molding it to her will. Her elbow gently nudged into my side as she nodded towards the bowl inviting me to help. I gently placed my hands into the bowl, pulling a chunk of masa into my hands to form the bread pocket of our gordita to be later filled with the picadillo. During each formation, I was brought back to my first osteopathic manipulative medicine (OMM) lab session. The memory sparked the thought of how similar it felt to use only our touch to uncover hidden objects in the palpatory lab to now fixing the edges of the dough with my fingers. Together we worked, me recapping the stressful week I had and her softly listening. The longer we worked, my mind began to still and my heart beat slow. Once everything had been prepared, she showed me to the kitchen table to eat, showing a plate of gorditas, beans and rice with lettuce and tomato on the side for topping. As my spoon scooped the rice and into my mouth, I was reminded again of the comfort of a warm meal and good conversations.

After feasting on the freshly made gorditas, I let myself sink deeper into the dining room chair and closed my eyes in content. The comfort of a warm meal healing my frustration and sadness. Minutes later, I awoke to the sound of clacking chanclas (sandals). I peered my eyes open to see her waddling down the hall. Concerned, my eyes quickly began to scan her leading to the realization that her feet were spilling out of her sandals. Recognizing my nervous look, “no te preocupes, estoy bien” (do not worry, I am fine) my Godmother tried to reassure me. But with each step her face contorted in pain.

The next day, I eagerly lugged a heavy OMM table into her small living room. At the harsh sound of rearranging furniture, my madrina entered. I beckoned her to sit on the table and explained I wanted to help with her leg swelling. In the same rhythmic pattern, we worked in the kitchen, my lymphatic set up circled like clockwork. From head to toe we opened her thoracic outlet, respiratory diaphragm and pelvic diaphragm, my hands skillfully working across each restriction. In the same way we pushed and pulled the dough I began to do the same with effleurage and pedal pump on her legs, kneading and pushing out the fluid to be drained. In the same way she eased my anxiety with the gift of her hands, I realized I could help alleviate her pain with the gift of my hands through osteopathic manipulative treatment. A reward that became apparent in the form of a joyous call into the kitchen the following day, my Godmother being able to put on her old walking shoes, something she shared she had not been able to do in weeks due to the swelling. A heartwarming experience as I recognized you can knead many things to help the soul.