Stretched out on the treatment table, three thoughts went through my mind: 1) Is this going to hurt? 2) Is this going to do anything at all? 3) What am I going to have for lunch? Oh, also a number 4 that flitted in and out quickly…what was Miley thinking?
Thomas had already announced that he could help me. As he checked my pulse and poked around my gut a bit, he made occasional comments…my colon was hot (not a reference to its appearance, clearly); my liver was a tad swollen (I chalked this up to my wine consumption of late); something about my kidneys. Then it was time to begin the treatment.
I suppose I should have asked questions like, “why are you putting needles in where you are?” But, I was really trying to embrace my inner Zen at this point. Zen was having none of it. I’m pretty sure that my anxiety level has been up in the Danger, Will Robinson** red zone for so very long…nothing, short of a miracle will bring it back to Zen. Thankfully, I do believe in miracles.
Left side was the focus, apparently. Foot, lower leg, gut, hand, arm, and ear. All received a smattering of needles. I have to admit that I only actually felt about four going in and that was just the tiniest of sting. A heating lamp, poised over my gut and the pronouncement of, “meditate or sleep” and he and Susan, who had remained extremely quiet and Zen-like herself during the needle insertion phase, both left me to my own thoughts.
I tried to relax. I tried to mediate. Okay, I have no idea how to meditate. I tried praying. I think I felt a bit of Christian guilt going in. Seeking Ancient Asian Medicine treatment when I am so firmly a daughter of the King. I felt, however, that He was okay with it. I am sure my guilt is purely disappointment in not being able to fix myself. Some people are like that. So used to helping others, never focusing on/taking care of herself, assuming she can fix it all. I’m okay with being like that now. It’s a long way from That Girl and I actually like This Girl.
This Girl, however, had to step back recently and look at the big picture of her life. I won’t change wanting to care for others. I won’t change wanting to be involved in every aspect of my children’s lives (that they will allow), including my 20-somethings. I won’t change who I have worked so hard to become these last 25 years. But, I do need to change how I care for me. I am innately a selfish person and pretty much embraced the Princess life the first 25+ years of my life. I don’t want to be that self-absorbed ever again so it is really difficult for me to know that I need to take better care of me…and not feel guilty about it.
Going to see Thomas, hearing his admonitions that I need to take better care of myself (and the interjections of bff, Susan, “so you can continue to help others, too!”) finally resonated with me. I’ve really let myself get into a physical/emotional and even spiritual mess. I love the holistic, whole-body philosophy that Thomas imparted in the 90 minutes I was there. I actually felt some hope. I felt much more in control, much more able. Except for Mean Min, The Deep Tissue Massage Torture King.
Ex-bff, Susan, assured me Min doesn’t play into the picture on the first visit. She was oh, so totally incorrect. When Min came in to remove the needles, I didn’t feel the slightest bit of panic because he was in just to remove the needles. Then he uttered these infamous words, “I am going to work out your spine and neck.” Ouch doesn’t begin to describe it. When he was done working out my spine and neck and I (tried) to sit up, the tears were still streaming down my face. And I still said, “thank you.” Why do we do that? Here’s your bill for $6700 to fix the Wild Boy’s Jeep. “Thank you, Mr. OBX Mechanic Dude.”
But really, I said thank you because the torture was over and my back and neck actually felt pretty sweet. Thomas came back in then and I thought I was done. Not so fast, girl. Time for a bit of spine alignment. While standing. When he pulled out the walker for me to lean against, I knew I was in huge trouble. By this time, I was physically drained of all emotion and tears so basically just bring it.
A little after-treatment chat with Thomas revealed the following mandates: No Meat, No Alcohol, No Coffee. For three months. And ended with a pitifully thin folder of the foods I could ingest. Basically, no dairy, no fried foods, no sugar, no white flour or white potatoes or rice; veggies, fruits and healthy grains. He pointed at me and said, “you are going vegan for three months.” Period. Just like that. Like it was going to be a cake walk. Mmmmm….cake.
That was Monday. Today is Wednesday. I did have about 3 ounces of coffee yesterday morning. I am having about 3 ounces of coffee this morning. I had a bite of the heavenly, to die for roast that Chef Shawn cooked last night, but all in all, I did pretty good Monday and yesterday and already have a food plan for today.
Give up coffee completely, however? That’s not gonna happen this week. I go back to see Thomas and please, Lord, not Min, tomorrow morning. And I’m actually taking the Wild Boy along with. He has had problems with his neck for years. Modern medicine has ruled out any issues and he has been bugging me to try acupuncture so I’ll take him along so he can see what it is about. I did sleep four solid hours Monday night. Last night, not a wink. Baby steps, however, are key.
Will keep y’all updated as I head down this path. More to come on eating, weight loss, and getting back into the groove of exercise.
Love you guys.
**did y’all get that retro-reference? If not…here is the source.