Ecce homo

Strange how a phrase will sometimes resonate, reappear, echo.

Ecce homo - behold the man. These are the words said to have been uttered by Pontius Pilate when he presented the scourged Jesus, crowned with thorns, to a hostile crowd shortly before his crucifixion. Ecce homo is thus the title for a scene widely depicted in christian art. By coincidence, nearly a year ago (see October 23rd 2011), I blogged about attending a talk in the Barber Institute at the University of Birmingham on one notable example of this genre by the Flemish painter, Anthony van Dyck.

Ecce homo is also the name of the convent hotel in which we spent a few days when visiting Jerusalem (see last post). Run by the Sisters of Sion, we'd warmly recommend it for the location, the simplicity of the accommodation and the stunning views from the rooftop terrace.

And ............. it's a only a small step, a simple segue, from Pontius Pilate to Joseph Pilates, the inventor of the physical fitness system to which I am a recent convert.

In the years BC (Before Cancer) (or if you prefer, BCE - Before Cancer Emerged) I was sniffy about Pilates. As a rugged, some have said, quintessentially macho kind-of-a-guy, I couldn't quite see the point in exercises that involved minor stretches and minimal movement. Give me the vigour, intensity and sweat-staining exertion of jogging, playing a game of football or circuit training. This was the way to real fitness.

I don't think like that now.

If you recall, it was the onset of my mechanical and neurological back pain that led to the discovery of the kidney tumour and the metastases in the lungs. These conditions are separate, unconnected but the chemo treatment for the latter made it imperative that I make every effort with muscles which had already atrophied and would continue to do so. However, exercise, even walking for any distance, was made almost impossible by the back issues.

As you may also recall, the medics at the Royal Orthopaedic Hospital finally got around to referring me to the pain clinic at the QEH. The doctor there prescribed more pain killers - lots of them - but also referred me to physiotherapy - and thus began my current involvement with Pilates.

In addition to several, early, one-to-one physiotherapy appointments, I subsequently joined a class in the hospital. By this time I was committed acolyte, rising early, every day, to undertake my own 45 minute Pilates workout. And - here's the big news - I was gradually dropping those painkillers, anti-inflammatories and anti-anti-inflammatories that were filling my daily drug dispensers.

My intake has dropped from a daily peak of fourteen to six and I'm hoping to drop a further two in the near future, if things continue as they have. Apart from the physical benefits of reducing my drug intake, I have experienced an important and concurrent, sense of control and renewed optimism.

That was until about a week and a half ago.

I was ending the day, as had now become usual, running up and down the stairs to the first landing, seven times (nearly one hundred steps). You see, I could never entirely give up the old (Canadian Airforce Training) macho way of exercising. After five 'circuits', I felt a sharp pain in the back of my right knee - but continued and completed circuits six and seven in some difficulty. 'If it ain't hurting, it ain't working', I murmured through gritted teeth.

That night, throughout the night, it went on 'working' and I have struggled ever since with, what can only be, torn ligament fibres.

I had to restart some of the painkillers, anti-inflammatories and therefore, the anti-anti-inflammatories. I've dropped them again now and am once more rising early to condition my body according to the teachings of 'Pontius Pilates'. 

These blips aside - if only you could see the results - the restoration of long, lean muscles, the strong core, the admirable pelvic alignment.

Once more, those words reverberate.........

Ecce homo - behold the man.