Starting with a shout out of thanks to those of you who sent energy and kind words my way this week: thank you. I mean this truly. When one feels lost and not sure why, it helps to have reminders that others are there with love, reminders that one may not really be lost at all. I am grateful for each and every one of you, for the messages of support you sent, the light you shone my way, the power you lent me when my own began fading. I believe that kinesthetic energy you created helped. Good thing, too, because any journey through our modern medical system serves, in my humble opinion, as a potent reminder of why we need to value traditional healing methodologies and why it is critical we expand our trust in Communion with one another. I needed that reminder. Its been a strange year. Losses aplenty coupled with alone time for introspection. I have been unsettled in my essence for some while. I strayed from my core beliefs about healing this year; this year that I am now beginning to think of as my own lost year, a year of psychiatric disaster and dis-ease. I strayed from things I believed in and know to be true with all of my heart. When you break down and become acutely vulnerable, you find yourself grasping at any straws offered, even those that your instincts tell you are questionable, such as mood stabilizers and psychotropics and all of those chemicals which wreak havoc upon your body. Our insurance and allopathic medical models tie ongoing treatment to compliance with these big Pharma influenced protocols and, since you are in a weakened state, not operating from your higher Self, feeling the need for an external set of expert ears, you comply. You forget to trust your own instincts, and that, my friends, is not a good thing. The laying on of hands is something which I, as a Reiki practitioner (rusty though I may currently be) have seen and felt the proof of. It is as old as time, comes from a genuine instinctive understanding of energetics, and is something that should be part of every course of healing. When we get an owie, we automatically touch it, hold it, sense it, with our own hands, right? We subconsciously send our healing energy into the wounded area, we protect it with our hands. So why then, did not one of the six male doctors I met with this past week and a half do that? I mean simply just touch, palpate, sense the energy of, lay hands (gloved, of course) upon whatever rampaging thing this is which turned first one, then both, of my legs into a bizarre landscape resembling that of a burn victims wound grafting? One woman doctor, visit four, I believe it was, did, in fact hover briefly above a larger patch of the deep red, fluid filled skin when I told her it was very hot. Briefly. She then said, Yes. It is very angry, and immediately prescribed the most powerful Sulfa drug available to try to head off further internal infection before it evolves into MRSA, words she spoke with a strange kind of reverence. Scared the shit out of me.... So at this point, I had been seen by a total of four doctors (three male, the fourth, this female--final two yet to come). I had been prescribed antihistamines, a five day course of antibiotics, Prednisone (which I refused to take, knowing that a manic episode would result), a powerful cortisone cream to rub lightly into the affected areas, and a potent designer medication meant to alleviate the symptoms and help me sleep. All of this with only one of those physicians actually touching my body in any way other than to take my blood pressure, temperature and pulse (and this, always done by the attending nurse before the doctor came into the room). Each of these physicians had a different idea of what was going on with me. Spider bites which got infected, allergic dermatitis, cause unknown, contact dermatitis, cause unknown, cellulitis resulting from a staph infection caused by some kind of insect bite. Each of them was willing to throw a medication or two at me to treat the symptoms, but none of them asked a single question about my lifestyle, my diet, my schedule. Which, as it turns out, has been very busy with some pretty high level projects and energy demanding activities, all being juggled simultaneously. But I began losing too much sleep by now due to the incredible itching. I also watched with dread as this undiagnosed rash climbed ever higher up my legs, both of them now affected. I was not functioning fully or well, and the medications-or something- began making me feel physically ill. Headaches. Joints aching. Nausea. Deep drowning fatigue from which I could barely drag myself up and into action. I canceled an important commitment, an appearance at a large national conference, and I do not do things like that. But I knew I had to make the choice to prioritize getting myself well. So I lobbied mightily and I finally got my primary care physician to refer me to a dermatologist. Which should have been done at least a week before. This is our medical model at work. I rushed to the specialists office, hoping for some kind of explanation. What in the hell is this thing and why is it happening to my body? Most importantly, how do I get rid of it? I had documented in writing the entire journey travelled thus far with it, dates, symptoms, medications prescribed then changed, physical reactions, etc. I had also photographed every ugly stage of it as though I were going to present to a forensic wound analysis conference or something. Old habits die hard :-) The specialist read my two page report. He looked at my photos. He laid his hands upon me, briefly, (at last!) but yes, he did gauge the heat and texture through touch. He then left the room for several minutes. He returned with his superior, the Big Honcho, the head partner of the practice: the Man They All Deferred To, an East Coast transplant, a man who announced to me that they wanted to do a biopsy, a punch biopsy. Because I believe we are looking at the sense of an autoimmune suppression syndrome going on. He did not lay on any hands. They did the punch biopsy. We should know the results in about two weeks. (That long, really?!) But they also told me to stop taking that Sulfa drug because they believed was not going to do me any good at all. They told me to stop using the cortisone cream, which had not been helping subdue anything. And then they prescribed yet a different cream, one even more potent, Only use the tiniest amount on each affected area. Do NOT use too thick of an application. This, to reduce the inflammation. They told me to come back in two weeks to have my stitches removed and discuss the lab findings. Not one question about my lifestyle, my stressors, my diet, my behaviors. Not even a semblance of root cause analysis. Allopathic medicine. The AMA. Big Pharma. This is how it works. Suddenly, I feel like my brain is waking up again. At last. On Monday morning, I intend to call back the acupuncturist who successfully resolved a tumor in my breast a few years ago. After 6 months of hands on (and often, needles in) treatment, we watched together as that tumor dissolved. I kid you not. It was a visible resolution. For some reason, this pissed off the radiologist (who had threatened not to work with me if I didnt let him do his thing his way, which I didnt) when I returned to confirm the results via ultrasound and mammogram. You would have expected him to be happy for me, right? Tumor free! Right there in the allopathic pantheon of proof, no tumor to be found. Nah. Allopathic practitioner didnt like to be shown up. So, if its true that I have an auto-immune deficiency syndrome, which I can certainly believe is true given the past year I have experienced, then it appears that I have a lot of work ahead of me. Work I look forward to doing with a practitioner of traditional healing arts. One who works from Source. The skin is the largest organ of our body. The external covering which holds us together, the one which others can see. Mine has been screaming at me to pay attention, but I havent understood what it is saying. Clearly, neither have those allopathic physicians. Our legs are the limbs which support us and help us move forward. I have been working hard for a year with an allopathic trained psychiatrist to explore-and attempt to repair- the damage done to my psyche and mind by the individuals within that system which abused me. All good work, important work, yes, but I have certainly worried that I am not moving forward. I have worried that I am permanently damaged. My essence was attacked, there was no bystander intervention, and my light is now weakened. My body is letting me know that my worries are real.. My own immune system has now begun to attack itself. Its time to call upon a real healer. A healer who will assist me in remembering my core values. Hands on. Blessed Be, my Beloveds
Posted on: Sat, 01 Nov 2014 19:59:22 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015