Somatic Geek Out Alert: I Got To Be the Polar Bear

Please note that this is a personal share and is not to be considered medical or professional advice. Each person’s situation is unique and worthy of personalized, individualized care.

For the last few years, I've been showing a particular video in class 1 of my Somatic Certificate series. Well, earlier this week, I got to be the polar bear, releasing acute trauma via neurogenic tremoring. (Video at the end of this Musing.)

Context:

Late November 2024, I had a C-section style hysterectomy due to two ginormous fibroids (non-cancerous). One was 6 x 5 x 3 inches, the second was 2 x 2 x 2 inches. Removing all this required an 8 inch slice horizontally across my low abdomen, plus slicing through three layers of abdominal muscles.

I start coming to while I was getting wheeled out of the operating room and become aware that both my legs are tremoring and shaking ***uncontrollably***.

The nurse at my feet asks, "Are you cold?"

Me (I shit you not, this is what I said): "No, this is the neurogenic tremoring of the body releasing the trauma flight response. I'm fine, this is normal."

I continue: "It's kinda cool actually. I'm a somatic trauma therapist and in my classes, I show this video of a polar bear that gets tranquilized and when the animal comes to, you see the bear completing the flight and fight responses. I'm the polar bear!"

The nurse at my head says: "You should come back to the OR and teach this."

Me: "I bet you see this all the time, huh?"

"Yes!"

Enroute to my room, I tell them that I need to pee, badly. I get ignored.

The next nurse comes and checks all my vital signs. I tell her that I need to pee badly. She tells me that I have a catheter in and that it's draining, and that it is likely that I am experiencing increased bladder sensitivity as a result of the catheter. She leaves. And I lie there pondering my dilemma. I need to sleep so badly, and I also feel like I need to pee really badly.

My beloved has arrived and takes a seat in one of the chairs near-ish the bed. I actually had no idea that he'd arrived. He's good like that - giving me space to just be.

The next nurse comes in. " I know that there's a catheter in. But here's the deal: I cannot override the sensation of badly needing to pee in order to get the rest that I desperately need. Is there something that can be done?"

"Let me go and speak with your surgeon."

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She comes back and assists me in getting the catheter out. It was surprisingly unpainful, but that's how local anesthesia work.

I get help walking the ten steps to the bathroom and sit down on the toilet, leaving the door open. Once sitting, I became aware that my pelvic floor / pelvic diaphragm was a solid brick. That brick sensation that accompanies overriding the need to pee. That brick sensation that I now know accompanies my body into protecting myself from threat and danger, even when under anesthesia.

My body knew exactly what to do, and my training in trauma and body allowed me to trust the wisdom of the body.

I released my jaw and started to slowly make sounds to release my pelvic floor. I could sense a softening, relaxing, releasing. My upper lip started lifting and curling under, my nostrils started flaring. Snarling, growling, hissing became incorporated into the soundscape. (Completing the trauma fight response!)

Suddenly, my thoracic diaphragm lurched into release, just like the polar bear! I gently slowed down the thoracic release so that I wouldn't hurt myself.

A few dozen more snarls, and my body was complete.

There was no pee.

There was more range of motion available to me as I was assisted back to bed. And the thought "gotta get TF out of here" that had been running on repeat in the back of my mind since coming out of the anesthesia was gone.

I then mostly slept the next 24 hours before I got discharged (just like the polar bear!)

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In those 24 hours, I didn’t need any pain medications. Nor did I need them in the time since then.

There were times, particularly during that first week post-surgery, when the dull pain would increase in intensity. I’d lie down and let my body tremor. When the tremoring was complete, my pain would be gone.

A reminder once again that this is a personal share and is not to be considered medical or professional advice. Each person’s situation is unique and worthy of personalized, individualized care.


Here’s that polar bear video:


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