Martial art offers chronic patient self-defense for body under siege Diagnosed with a progressive neurological disease, Ross Monson found new mobility -- and hope -- in Tai Chi Before his success with Tai Chi, Ross Monson says, he was told nothing would stop the progress of his illness.

At 46 years of age, Edmonton psychologist Ross Monson stumbled.

Then he lost his balance, literally. His speech began to slur, his co-ordination flagged. Simple tasks, like sliding a key into a door, became exercises in humiliation.

In 1996, he was diagnosed with a neurological disorder, spino-cerebellum degeneration, a progressive disease that can eventually steal away a person's ability to walk, move their limbs or feed themselves. He had to give up his job working with troubled kids and became bitter and depressed.

Today, his speech and gait are mostly normal, he can pick up a coffee cup with ease. More importantly, Monson's sense of optimism, his zeal for life, are back.

How did Ross Monson get from there, to here? How is it possible, suffering from a disease known to be degenerative, not regenerative?

Ancient Chinese secret.
Actually, it's not that much of a secret anymore. Monson's devotion to Tai Chi is far from unique in Edmonton, which has a number of clubs and outlets that teach the ancient form of moving meditation.

Tai Chi looks like Kung Fu in slow motion -- a martial arts ballet of graceful, flowing movement. Followers say it can increase mobility and bone mass, improve balance and circulation, while relieving stress and providing new vitality.

But treat illness?
Monson isn't the first one to find improved health from an Eastern healing tradition. Skeptics tend to write off stories like Monson's as evidence of placebo effect or an unexplained remission.

Monson puts it down to hard work. "When I was diagnosed, I was told the prognosis was that I would eventually be disabled, in a wheelchair," said Monson.

"There was no treatment, no medication and nothing that would stop the progress."

He was depressed, bitter, difficult to be around in the early months. He had trouble even talking, which made him anxious, which made talking even more difficult.

He tried going to the gym, but his condition continued to deteriorate. Finally, he decided to try something once suggested to him by a friend -- Tai Chi.

Early on, his movements at the Taoist Tai Chi Society classes were awkward and precarious. "I was the worst in the class."

But after the five-month beginner course, his classmates remarked on his progress. It gave him a boost and for much of the past five years he has practised for hours each day.

He's now getting out of the house to volunteer in the community. He recently led a support group for people with muscular dystrophy. It felt comfortable for the psychologist, who led groups in his former work life.

The progress has surprised his neurologist, but Monson himself isn't completely satisfied. He believes his health, balance and co-ordination can get better yet.

"I see it as a miracle," he says. "Three years from now I think I will be better than I am today. That, to me, is a miracle, to have that kind of hope."

Source: Edmonton Journal, Scott McKeen, Journal Staff Writer

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