Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

It’s been a roller coaster ride September 14, 2023

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 5:00 AM
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“The Legend,” one of a few remaining wooden roller coasters, located at Arnolds Park Amusement Park in the lakes region of northwestern Iowa. Built in 1930, it is the 13th oldest wooden roller coaster in the world. (Photo courtesy of Arnolds Park Amusement Park Marketing)

SOME 2 ½ MONTHS AGO, I boarded a roller coaster for the first time since I was a teenager screaming my lungs out while riding “The Legend,” a wooden roller coaster at Arnolds Park Amusement Park in Arnolds Park, Iowa. It’s not that I decided this would be a fun activity to try again in my late sixties. Rather, the choice was made for me, as part of my vestibular rehab therapy.

I warned my physical therapist that I don’t like amusement rides. But my comment didn’t deter Ryan. He determined that riding a virtual reality roller coaster on a June morning might be exactly what my brain needed to retrain itself. Since January, I’ve struggled with neurological-based issues resulting from a viral infection, suspected to be COVID, even though I twice self-tested negative for the virus. In early April, I started physical therapy and have been working hard ever since to manage my many debilitating symptoms.

Fast forward to today. I am in a much better place, even while on a VR roller coaster, a tool I’m using to build my visual, auditory and spatial tolerance. Early on I had doubts about my therapist’s plan. Initially, I couldn’t tolerate the VR roller coaster for long (less than a minute) before symptoms flared. After minimal exposure, my head hurt, my eyes hurt and I felt utterly exhausted. When I experienced a health setback mid-summer with vertigo returning, Ryan abandoned the amusement ride therapy for therapies less taxing on my brain.

ROCKS, RABBITS & A ROLLER COASTER

Slowly, surely, I started feeling better and Ryan decided it was time to pull out the VR headset again for another go on the roller coaster. I did not enthusiastically hop on board, only reluctantly agreeing to give it a try. I lasted 25 seconds on a roller coaster ride where boulders tumbled off rocky mountains toward me. Rabbits loping under the track proved the only redeeming feature. I hold a fondness for rabbits, my high school mascot being a White Rabbit.

That was two weeks ago. The following week I did better, albeit on a less visually-stimulating ride, this one under the sea in a darker environment. Still, I could manage only bursts of riding before needing to pause.

NOT ONE, NOT TWO, BUT THREE ROLLER COASTERS

Five days later I was back at therapy, knowing full well that I would again be riding a roller coaster. Make that plural. Three roller coasters. I started therapy Wednesday morning with the least stimulating under-the-sea ride. And just to make that more challenging, Ryan asked me to stand, rather than sit. He allowed me to place my hands on the back of a chair to ground myself. I successfully finished the ride, then took a break before re-boarding, this time without touching the chair. Success again. Time to up the challenge.

Ryan pulled out the rabbit-loping, boulders-falling themed ride. This time I completed the ride, which was visually much more exciting with dynamite and fire and a whole lot more coming at me. Once again, I tolerated the roller coaster twice while standing and without needing to stop.

I felt my confidence grow as each roller coaster ride became more sensory challenging. I could do this. But when the next ride began with a garish parrot getting in my face, I questioned whether I could manage a tropical-themed roller coaster with worn vivid red and yellow rails. (Was it even safe to ride?) It was a lot—the bold hues, the squawking flapping seagulls, the palm trees, the steep climbs, the height, the sharp turns. But I made it. Twice on that roller coaster curving toward the ocean.

DOING GREAT, BUT I HAVE MY LIMITS

My brain was adjusting, learning, retraining itself to take in more visual, auditory and spatial input. Ryan praised my success, both of us somewhat surprised by how well I’d tolerated those roller coasters Wednesday morning.

But before I left therapy, I wanted Ryan to know one thing. If he planned a field trip to nearby Valley Fair Amusement Park next Wednesday for a ride on a real roller coaster, I wouldn’t be showing up for therapy.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Quite the ride June 28, 2023

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 2:41 PM
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This battery-powered T-Rex was my son’s toy. It roared, turned its head, moved its arms and flashed its red eyes. My grandkids were terrified of it at one time. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

IF YOU HAD JUST DISEMBARKED a roller coaster only to see a T-Rex chomping up the tracks and roaring towards you, would you trust that you would survive?

So what does this have to do with anything relevant to today and, well, to me? Lots.

Last week my vestibular rehab therapist changed things up a bit. He led me from our usual private meeting room down the hall to a more spacious room with a large screen TV, a table, chairs, toys, a dollhouse and some type of exercise equipment I couldn’t identify.

“Yeah, I get to play,” I exclaimed to Ryan.

WE’RE GOING TO DO WHAT?

He had other things in mind. “You’re going to ride a roller coaster,” he said. I looked at him in disbelief and then with fear as he pulled out a virtual reality headset.

“I don’t like roller coasters,” I stated. That is true. The last one I rode was nearly 50 years ago. The Woody at Arnold’s Park in Spencer, Iowa. They called it The Woody back then for a reason. Built in 1930, this is the 13th oldest wooden roller coaster in the world. And this amusement ride was, for me, absolutely terrifying as the cars clacked up and down and around the tracks.

I also have minimal exposure to VR, having tried my son’s headset once and experiencing great difficultly in navigating anything. Simply being in a virtual world proved uncomfortable and disorienting.

So when Ryan mentioned roller coaster and VR in the same sentence, I felt my angst rise. But I recognized that he was serious and that this was just one more effort to retrain my brain by exposing me to motion and to noise in an attempt to manage symptoms resulting from vestibular neuritis, Meniere’s Disease and peripheral sensory neuropathy.

REMIND ME, WHICH BUTTONS DO I PUSH?

Alright then. Ryan set up the computer program, tightened the headset on my head, then handed me the controls, instructing me on which buttons to push. He told me to point the laser at the triangle to start the ride. I couldn’t even manage that as my hands shook. I failed at multiple attempts to use the hand controls, so eventually my patient PT took over. Young people can manage tech stuff far better than aging Baby Boomers like me.

Soon I was on the dreaded roller coaster, riding up and down and all around while noise roared. It was a lot of visual and auditory stimuli as intended. Curves and the roar of a waterfall proved the most challenging. Almost immediately I asked to sit. But when I grew more comfortable, Ryan had me standing with my hand touching the back of a chair to help me feel grounded. I took multiple breaks.

OH, NO, THERE’S MORE!

When I thought a roller coaster ride was surprise enough, yet more awaited me. I soon noticed dinosaurs lurking in the background. Then a Tyrannosaurus separated from the herd and began chomping the track, moving at a ferocious pace directly towards me.

“My granddaughter would love this,” I said in the midst of all that chaos, then corrected myself. “Well, maybe not.” Isabelle, 7, loves dinosaurs but even this teeth-baring meat eater might scare her.

In the end, I survived. Both the T-Rex and the roller coaster. Ryan was pleased with my ability to mostly handle the stimuli. Now I wonder what he has planned for physical therapy tomorrow?

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling