Saturday, August 6, 2011

When Nature Calls you answer?

Once again, please excuse my absence. I've been very occupied with travel, work and celebrations. You understand....don't ya?
Let's do a quick recap of my activities and then I'll get to the real meat of this story.

May 15 - 22 - Aruba ( so fun but lots of only rains once in a blue moon there...we had the blue moon.
Hired Hazel 5 (the cleaning lady)
May 30 - FO's birthday
(fired Hazel 5)
(hired Hazel 6)
June 18 - Anita & Frank's Wedding (danced like a lunatic and had the best time ever!)
(fired Hazel 6)
June 20 - July 1 - My birthday followed by ongoing celebrations
(hired Hazel 7)
July 7 to July 12 (visit to the Hamps...spent time with family, ate, swam and baked apple strudels)
July 12 to present - trying to finish writing this blog but never got around to it until NOW.

Back in June I decided to make an appointment to see a Naturopath. Let me define what this type of "Doctor" does:

"Naturopathic Medicine, is a form of alternative medicine based on a belief in vitalism, which lays down the premise that a special energy called vital energy or vital force guides bodily processes such as metabolism, reproduction, growth, and adaptation. Naturopathic philosophy favors a holistic approach, and, like conventional medicine seeks to find the least invasive measures necessary for symptom improvement or resolution, thus encouraging minimal use of surgery and unnecessary drugs."

Sounds good to me.

The reason behind my search for a "holistic" approach to my current state of well-being is two-fold.

1. I have been dealing with a skin issue since I was 13 and it annoys me...and

2. I am starting to melt. (yes, you heard me right....  at this age my body clock is doing more tocking than ticking)

My Doctor of Naturopathy was referred to me by Steve who met him at a business networking group he belongs to. The networking group meets once a week at 7:00 a.m. They have breakfast together, do presentations and have weekly draws with prizes (exactly like the Flintstone Water Buffalo's - they even have a Grand PooBah). Steve enjoys it so much but I just can't seem to relate to the concept of paying $1,300 per year to have breakfast and get $1,299.99 in business referrals.... so for the penny profit I'll sleep in thank you.

So Dr. R. is a skinny fellow from Pakistan. He is soft spoken, extremely polite but reminds me of Osama Bin Laden sans the turbie twist. Before arriving for this appointment I was instructed to fill out a 15 page questionnaire. It was a cross between a health form and a psychiatric assessment. There were some primo questions on this form:

1. Describe your perfect day:
my answer......
My perfect day (in my dreams) would consist of waking up at 10 a.m.and having a Lumberjack breakfast served to me by my pool. At 11 a.m. I would workout with a trainer who looked like George Clooney. Then at 12:30 p.m. I would eat a high in fat hearty lunch on the deck of my 10,000 square foot home in Tahiti.  Sometime around 4 p.m. I would have a manicure, pedicure and a blowdry followed by booking a dinner reservation to a 5 star restaurant overlooking the beach...

2. How often do you experience a sense of profound unity with the world/universe or a higher power?
My answer....

Um...what was the question?

His office is located inside of  his home on a busy thoroughfare. The instructions were to park on the left side of the driveway and walk down the right side of the house and make a left turn at the back of the house and another left turn into the entrance door. it.

I opened the door and found myself inside a very bright waiting area, lots of skylights, floor to ceiling windows...and then there was the music...If you know what I am like I have very particular taste in music. If I can't dance to it, I don't like it. So there I sat, listening to zen-like chords of sound beating inside my brain. I closed my eyes and visualized a drop of water falling in the middle of my forehead...chinese torture in a waiting room....I began to recall the other list of questions I answered on the form:

Do you consider yourself well grounded?
My answer:
Yes, as soon as I get off the airplane

Rate your ability to acknowledge and express your feelings:
My answer:
I can acknowledge how I feel by how far I can throw my headset after dealing with irate people all day.

How would you rate your ability to manifest your will?
My answer:
I have left everything in my Will to my two cats.

How often do you feel happy?
My answer:
Are you talking about at the moment?

Do you meditate or have strong spiritual experiences?
My answer:
I  have strong spiritual experiences 3 times a year - Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur and Passover (but I don't like Matzoh)

Are you consciously aware of your thoughts, actions,
My answer:
If I wasn't conscious, wouldn't I be DEAD?

My appointment time was scheduled for 1:45 p.m. was now 2:15 p.m.( I was alone in the waiting area so I knew I was next in the non-existent line). The strange thing was...I have no idea why Osama B.L. kept me waiting ...perhaps it was his way of introducing you to a calm environment (however, the zulu music was making me want to shoot myself in the left eye much for calm).

He finally emerged from what I could see was a darkened room. O.B.L. introduced himself and escorted me into a small room with two leather chairs. Once in the "zen zone" he proceeded to go over my health and wellness questionnaire. I answered  his queries in as much detail as possible until he arrived at the Bristol Bowel Scale. Hands up if you have ever heard of this chart. Just as I thought, not too many of you have seen it so let me insert the diagram so that you can keep a copy of a POO Chart in your pocket...just in case you need it.

Okay are you gagging yet? Well, I was trying not to but I kept my composure when asked the 64 thousand dollar question....and that was.......What does your poo look like in the morning...? As I studied the piece of paper he had just handed me I became confused. I verily believe, like  most people, that poo is not examined in the morning *with the exception of my children who like to think their poo comes out in the coolest shapes and sizes. I am usually ecstatic that I HAVE TO poo so that takes precedence over the act of viewing it. My issue was...I couldn't let O.B.L. know that I didn't get my P.P.E.(professional "poo" examiner) degree in University so I came up with my answer..."I can safely say that I am a cross between a Type 4 and a Type 5" pooer".

Note: To my loyal readers...If you want to stop right now because you are too grossed out to continue I will understand....I'm warning you does get better from here....

As O.B.L. documented the U.S.M.P. (United States of  My Poo), I had to think of sad things so I wouldn't laugh but then he shot me the second question...and that was..."what color is it"?

I had to think long and hard on this one....."well, it's a cross between your pants and the color of your throw rug" I said. O.B.L. seemed very satisfied with my answer despite the fact that he must have clued in about his pants and rug resembling a shade of shit.

"So, I see noted here that you have a fear of flying", Dr. Osama Bin Pooing asked.

"Yes, I don't like to but I want to go places and have no other choice but to get on the plane", I answered.

"I see, what exactly is your fear connected to",  he asked.

"dying", I answer

"you have a fear of dying or flying"? he asks.

"both", I answer.

"And what about your present concerns with menopause", he asks.

"My concerns are these Doc. body stopped producing marketfresh eggs back in December...I am shvitzing (sweating) like a brisket in a crock pot and my body is changing....the only good thing about this scenario is that I can buy more shoes with the amount of money I am saving on feminine hygiene products". I answer.

"I see", he answers.

Another thing you may or may not know about me is this...I was and always will be my father's daughter. Growing up he taught me the wisdoms of life. His belief was that if it looks too good to be true it usually is. He also taught me some great sayings in his own language...although it loses a lot in translation I will tell you anyways. He had a term for everything that was considered Bullshit.... "Shmoy Boy". He also had another term that will be difficult to write but is went something like this. "Veeinsah Shmrodjah Yak Yazdah"...translatation?...THIS IS GOING TO CAUSE MORE SHIT THAN GOOD.

A wise man.

At the conclusion of our visit O.B.L. went over my needs and treatment plan. He wanted to do some simple tests to determine what will be the best fit holistic-wise to cure my list of physical "issues". But before he could fully prescribe a host of hocus pocus remedies he would need to take a lock of my hair (a one inch spot from the back of my head) to analyze its properties. Cut a one inch spot from the back of my head? Are you kidding  me? He wasn't kidding and could see that I was horrified at the thought of being shaved deep into my roots. He then came up with another less invasive suggestion. "You could always go into the washroom and shave some hair from down there". "Down where" ? I asked. "Down there" he pointed to his brown colored crotch. That is when I held my hand up and said whoa "I think I will pass on the hair test Dr. Osama Bin Shearling."

As a rule I would consider myself a very co-operative patient. Ever since I was little I behaved very well in any doctor's office. That's why I was allowed to go to Woolworths and buy all kinds of good crap as a REWARD. Where I drew the line here was....the zen music, the poo views and to top it off the witch doctor wanted to invade my fresh highlights and the Netherlands with a pair of scissors and a razor. No thank you Bob.

When I refused the haircut (for his collection of shrunken heads I bet), he suggested we do a urine sample for now. I had to agree for fear of being thrown to the Taliban insurgents that were waiting for me in his backyard. I was given a small container and off I went to try to complete the mission. I opened the bathroom door, sat down and placed the cup beneath me....accompanied by those dam zulu tunes I managed to provide a full cup of liquid gold for the this time the waiting room was full of other Zen activists and I was amazed that the time was now 4 p.m. - time flys when you are locked in a dark cave.

Dr. O.B.L. presented me with 4 holistic concoctions for me to try at home before my next appointment. One was Bach Flower drops ( the exact same stuff we gave to our cat who has O.C.D. (obsessive compulsive disorder) She licks all her fur off and then pukes up a hairball on a daily basis. Such a lovely pet.
The next remedy was an extremely vile smelling oil for my skin. Then he provided me with drops to use for the shvitzing (sweating). Last but not least, some pills to take before I calm my fears of flying and subsequently dying.

I was told to try these voodoo remedies for a week and see if they work.

Here are the results after taking this stuff.

Bach Flower Drops:

I suddenly felt like forefeiting my daily shower and lick myself with my paw instead I began craving Friskies Cat Treats in the evening.

Skin Oil:

First I had to deal with the aroma. I smelled like a cross between a sardine and a old piece of cheese.  My skin turned a weird hue of green, I needed to sleep on dark sheets and to top it all off it made the condition worse. 

Drops for Symptoms associated with my expiration date coming to fruition:

Remember the Wicked Witch of the West from the Wizard of Oz? Well, I morphed into her, greenish color, melting and all.

Calm Flying Pills:
I took one the night before I flew to NYC in July. It gave me a vivid nightmare that I was on a large pirate ship with a patch over my eye (probably related to shooting myself in the left one while listening to that music in Osama's waiting room)

Dr. O.B.L. called me last week to follow up with me .... more than likely because I never rebooked my second appointment. After a few minutes of coming up with various excuses for my absence I told him I would get back to him (when cows fly and small aliens invade the earth)....whichever one comes first.

My father was seemed to good to be true and to that end I will continue to hold onto my membership at the Shmoy Boy club.

1 comment:

  1. I almost pee'd from laughing. Loved every paragraph!