Not dead yet

How sauna gave my life back to me

Summers in Illinois are oppressive. I didn’t know this when I moved here from South Carolina, thinking I might get a break from the heat. Instead I found myself lying on the floor of my living room where it felt the coolest, listening to the radio blather on about how many people had died of heat related deaths that day. Not cool, Illinois. Not cool at all.

And when you step from an air conditioned building into the hot, thick air of the outdoors, the humidity groping at you in its unwelcome and invasive way, someone just might say, “It’s like a sauna out here.”

Saunas definitely have an image problem if they are being compared to Illinois summers. Up until a year or so ago, I had the vague idea that pretty much only people in fluffy, white bathrobes with more money than sense would sauna regularly. And crazy Finns, of course. Being neither of those (and not a fan of humid summers), I never considered it.

Then everything changed. My life as an active mom started a slow decline into an illness that refused to fit into any of the boxes that doctors thought it should. What started as lethargy progressed into exhaustion and muscle weakness. Then the muscle spasms started. Head nodding tremors, tongue tremors (Didn’t know those were a thing? Me either.), limb jerking and a strange gait as my legs seemed oddly beyond my control. My legs were weak and unreliable and I started using a cane to walk.

Tasks I didn’t have to think about before now needed intense concentration to complete. Brain fog became so thick that sometimes after just a few halting words , I would be reduced to simply staring at people, open-mouthed. The sentence that I could see in my head refused to line up and march out of my mouth.

It is stunning to me now how bad it got. I could not take care of my family, spending much of my time unable to get out of bed. I was so weak that I sometimes didn’t have the strength to sit upright through an entire dinner time, let alone cook it and serve it. When I would start to list dangerously starboard in my chair during a family meal, I knew it was time to get my cane and shuffle to my room where I could finish the strenuous business of eating while resting between bites.

I thought I must be dying. I mean, everybody is, but somehow I ended up on the fast train to Decrepit-ville. You can imagine my great relief when after years of decline, I finally got a diagnosis. Central Inflammatory Response Syndrome due to mold toxins. Or, by acronym, “CIRS”. Turns out that genetic testing isn’t just for cancer risk any more. Blood testing confirmed that I have really crappy genetics. The “inability to eliminate common, everyday biotoxins until they build up and make you a cripple” kind of crappy genetics.

One thing you learn when you hang out in the online communities of the chronically ill, is that we will try anything to feel better. Anything. Ionic foot baths are wildly popular. Diets consisting of mostly potatoes and positive thinking have their avid proponents. Coffee enemas are commonplace.

Lots of people seemed to swear by their infrared saunas, and I thought it would be worth a try. Saunas didn’t seem as repugnant to me as they used to, likely because my illness had also caused my internal thermostat to go haywire and I was cold all the time. It wasn’t unusual for me to be under a pile of blankets, yet unable to feel warm.

I read everything I could google on saunas and detoxification which is mostly a wild mix of infrared marketing and Scientology drug detox testimonials. Seemed like everyone I found who had detoxed successfully and wasn’t a drug addict had used infrared saunas. But I didn’t have access to an infrared, so thought I should give the “traditional dry sauna” at my local gym a try.

I launched gung-ho into a sauna routine. I went every day the first week, and spent between 2.5 and 3 hours in the sauna, taking a cool down break whenever I felt uncomfortable. I wasn’t trying to break any records, but it was intense. The detox reactions were brutal. My neck was so stiff and painful I dreaded every movement. I would fall into an exhausted sleep most of the rest of the day after sauna sessions.

I really can’t say I recommend starting sauna this intensely, but my instincts said to go for it, and I did. After that first, crazy week, I cut back to half hour sessions 3–5 times a week. Within a few weeks, I started to feel better after a sauna instead of wrung out. I began to experience post-sauna improvement in both pain and the next day’s energy levels.

Often in the sauna, my joints would become very hot and irritated. I started rubbing them with a towel and the increased circulation felt like what I needed. When I came across the sauna tradition of using a whisk of branches, it made complete sense to me. Vihta (or venik or vasta if you prefer) was like the answer to a question I didn’t think to ask. I ordered a birch branch vihta from Latvia right away. Using one feels right, and I was reminded once again that traditions are grounded in generations of accumulated wisdom, and should not be discounted lightly.

My interest in the traditions of sauna led me to try the cold plunge at a Russian banya in London. Well, my interest AND the unsmiling, grizzled Russian man who told me to. Even though the guy at the counter when I checked in told me to complete two sauna rounds before dunking the first time, apparently I am unable to argue with ancient traditions enforced by gruff Russian men, and went down the ladder into the frigid water with no protest whatsoever.

The cold plunge is amazing, like being reborn. The symbol of rebirth seemed particularly compelling since my own baptism took place in an unheated swimming pool on a brisk, fall day. I felt the parallel every time I went under the glacial waters, as if reliving the mark of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit on my head and rising a new creature with every dunk. I took pungent sips of kvass in between sauna and cold plunge sessions, and managed to get in 5 rounds before it was time to go. I left feeling both relaxed and invigorated, that state of being that characterizes an excellent sauna.

I have now been using the sauna regularly for 8 months. My sauna situation is far from ideal. I still use the sauna at my gym. There, they frown on both löyly (steam from the hot rocks) and vihta. The benches are never really clean and are assembled with phillips head screws so that you have to be very conscious not spread out carelessly or you will soon be sporting a nice, phillips head shaped burn.

Despite these drawbacks, my health has improved dramatically. I went from being an invalid to fully functioning; from desperate to thriving. I still sauna 3–5 times a week, often with my teenage daughter who inherited my crappy genetics (sorry, kiddo). She also has gone from difficulty forming sentences and holding onto walls for support while walking to nearly normal health.

Detoxification is a way of life for us, and we are learning that there are many stores and buildings that we have to avoid because their toxic load is too great. If we feel the physical effects of a place immediately and struggle for days to recover, it isn’t worth it. Sauna gives me the ability to try new places and have a way to reliably detox if it turns out to be laden with biotoxins. Sauna means I can go to church, restaurants, and birthday parties. Sauna gave me my life back.

In the increasingly toxic world we live in, I believe sauna is a practice whose time has come around again. Our world is ripe for a sauna renaissance. Chronic fatigue, fibromyalgia, and CIRS are being diagnosed in growing numbers, and these sufferers can benefit greatly from sauna. Sadly, I think some people who are part of the long time sauna community perceive those who start to sauna for health as being lesser, somehow. Sometimes, a militant sauna lover will get downright obnoxious if upon hearing the word “detox”, as if being motivated for health reasons makes one unworthy, and only the pure of heart can sit and sweat in honor.

The tradition of sauna is rich and deep, and not diminished in any way by what brings you to it. Even if you started to sauna because you have more money than sense, yet come to love it, that’s probably okay, too. Probably.

If you enjoy sauna and have a friend with a chronic illness, invite them to come with you. Who knows? You might be helping them back to a functionality they had given up hope of recovering. If you have a chronic illness and are wondering if a traditional sauna has health benefits, the answer is a resounding “Yes!”. Don’t hesitate to try it. Don’t think that it is an inferior version of infrared, as the infrared manufacturers seem to imply. It is not inferior, but a different and extremely beneficial modality.

Also, don’t think you need to have a perfect sauna setup to benefit. The saunas I have access to on a regular basis are far from ideal, and yet have changed my life for the better. When I open the door of the sauna and am blasted with a wave of hot, cedar scented air, I feel my whole body relax. It is as if my body has learned it has a good thing going here, and within moments, I am at peace. I am healing. And when the sauna expels me in that same cloudblast of heat, it is now with the ability to move, and live, and give again. Who knew sweating in a tiny room could be such a beautiful thing?