Ann Arbor Healers: Staunch Stress, Seal Serenity

By Marie Noelle Duquette

I hurt my leg in mid-September while running with my dog, Nala. The air was cool, autumn-fresh, and Nala and I were enjoying our evening walk. I felt so strong that I broke into a light jog, without stretching. I am 61 and not a runner. 

About 50 yards into the run, I felt a pull behind my left knee. I slowed to a walk, thinking to myself, “There is no way that itty bitty burst of energy caused anything as serious as a sprain or heaven-forbid tear.” Still, my skin behind my knee was hot, the pain was real, and I quasi-limped home.

After wearing a brace on my knee for weeks, icing it daily, stretching it carefully, and getting an ultra-sound to rule out more serious causes, the pain behind my knee persisted. While researching therapies for leg injuries near Ann Arbor, I stumbled upon the Neurofitness Center website. Their website was convincing. I made an appointment to try everything they offered: Neurofeedback, the Salt Room, the Float Tank, and Cryotherapy.

My partner and I first went to Neurofitness to experience a Neurofeedback session and the Salt Room. Jack  Lark greeted us upon arrival. Knowledgeable and engaging, he would help us navigate the different therapeutic experiences. Neurofeedback, he explained, was a therapy in which he would attach a couple of electrodes to my ear lobes and one at my temple. Next, I would put on a comfortable pair of headphones—the kind with soft padding that cover one’s entire ears. Then I would sit in a comfy chair and listen to a recording of meditative music infused with nature sounds such as birdsong, steady rain, and wind rustling through trees. The recording was enchanting. It was easy to close my eyes and give my mind over to what I was hearing. Periodically, the music would skip, like a less-annoying skip of a record that self-corrects and lasts only a second. The ambient recording draws one’s auditory focus—the skips are triggered anytime one’s mind wanders beyond the music and birdsong. At first, the skips happened frequently. Soon, my focus on the audio became steadier and the skips were less frequent. The Neurofeedback session was like yearning to hear a beloved, melodic voice that is almost beyond one’s hearing. I stilled my body and leaned into the strings, rain sticks, flute, waterfall, and windchimes. By the time the session ended, I was ready to book a weekly session, my relaxation was so complete. Lark told me that Neurofeedback was a form of practicing mindfulness in a way that required less effort and more receptivity. As one who struggles with keeping my attention in the here and now, it succeeded beyond my hopes. 

If the Neurofeedback session was like yearning to hear a beloved, melodic voice the Salt Room was akin to sitting on a beach, inhaling fresh air. The Salt Room at Neurofitness is lit by infrared lights and is big enough for two people to sit in comfortably. The Himalayan salt is so deep on the floor that it looks like a remote beach of fine sand you can dig your toes into. Salt bricks are laid into the walls and a PVC pipe in the corner emits a burst of fine salt spray into the room every eleven seconds. Upon entering, I removed my shoes, pushed back in one of the zero-gravity chairs, and closed my eyes to focus on my breathing. I quickly fell into a meditative state and the half-hour session slipped away unnoticed.

The next day we returned to float. We had both enjoyed float tanks in the past and were familiar with the drill: enter the room, shower, enter the float tank, and either close the lid, if you are in the egg or turn out the lights if you are in the non-covered tank. Music plays if you are in the open tank, or you can float in absolute silence in the egg. In both tanks, you float in darkness that envelops you so completely that you cannot see the walls, the water, or your own wrist in front of your face. The complete lack of visual stimulation enhances one’s sense of touch so that the salt water, which holds you up without effort, feels like a cradle, the warm water giving a sense of being in a womb—a protected space created for your own nourishment and rest. A gentle recorded voice interrupts your reverie when the hour is drawing to an end. After floating, the colors and lights and sounds outside are more vivid and distinct. There is a newness to the world as if your very eyes have been cleansed—your senses reset. 

On Monday, I returned to Neurofitness for the scariest offering: Cryotherapy: standing, with minimal protective outerwear, in a sub-zero chamber for three minutes. Cryotherapy has been used for decades in Europe and Asia to promote athletic recovery. From the Neurofitness website, I read, “The use of liquid nitrogen in a safe and controlled environment provides a gentle but significant amount of cold exposure. The extreme cold stimulates the skin’s temperature receptors to activate the nervous, immune, and endocrine systems, leading to a reduction in inflammation and pain (hey athletes—this means quicker recovery!), elevating mood, and increasing energy. Clients often tell us they feel relief of symptoms including muscle soreness, arthritis, chronic pain, and inflammation.”

Lark, our guide at Neurofitness, was particularly helpful for my Cryotherapy session. He explained that the sub-zero temperatures would not feel quite as cold as I might expect, because it was a dry cold, not the wet cold that we know from Michigan winters. The Cryotherapy chamber looks a bit like a blue hexagon-shaped phone booth. The floor of the chamber is adjustable by adding soft, uniform pads that fit perfectly in the chamber’s footprint, so that no matter your height, your head is not enclosed in the chamber. Lark gave me special socks, shoes, gloves, and a robe and excused himself until I was ready. When he returned, he assured me that I was in control. Once in the chamber I could opt to remove the robe and at any time, or I could ask him to let me out. Still, he urged me to embrace the experience and try not to focus on how cold I felt. “That way, you’ll get the most out of doing it,” he said.

Once inside the chamber, I was not brave enough to drop my robe. The cold was not as sharp as I expected, but neither was it as comfortable as the other therapies had been. I endured the entire three minutes, trying to focus on the benefits. I emerged feeling like a victor. Immediately after Cryotherapy, I felt hungry, and then tired. As the evening wore on, and the new day dawned, I noticed that the pain in my leg was considerably subdued. I could still feel a dull ache where the sharp pain had been, but that continued to lessen in the days ahead. It has been two weeks since I braved the sub-zero Cryochamber and my leg has yet to hurt at the level of pain I endured before the experience. In fact, I’ve not worn my knee brace once since the big freeze. I’m going back for another session today, to continue the full healing of my leg, and to see if Cryotherapy will help heal two toes that I bruised badly yesterday when I wrapped them around a square, wooden chair leg. 

Neurofitness is an extremely clean facility. Lark is a helpful guide whose sense of optimism and wonder is infectious. The entire environment underscores that restorative healing and stress-relief is more than a nice occasional treat. It is something we need as much as medications, fresh food, and deep sleep. The therapies offered at Neurofitness act like boosters that enhance other healing practices. They helped me find a place beyond the trauma of life in which restoration of my body, mind, and spirit, is both inviting and efficient. 

In my first visit, I commented to Lark that I was pleased that Health Savings Account and Flexible Savings Account dollars offered by many insurance companies could be used for all their therapies. He said, “Of course! We are a health care center.” Indeed. 

Neurofitness is located at 6360 Jackson Road Suite A in Ann Arbor. To learn more or make an appointment, call (734) 206-2012 or visit them online at https://neurofitcenter.com.

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