Sunday, April 13, 2008
I looked at the orthopedic surgeon with my jaw in my lap. Sadly, X-rays don’t lie, and there it was in all it’s glory; my hip -- ten years away from a hip replacement. But it didn’t stop there. The ultimate culprit to my agony is bursitis. WTF? Isn’t bursitis for old people? I’m only fifty-freaking-one, for crying out loud, so how is this possible? I admit to lousy genetics in the hip department, but impending infirmity is quite unexpected. I’ve been living in near-constant pain for three years, so I’m hardly innocent in all this. I should have sought out medical care sooner.
So as I sit staring at the X-ray, the surgeon is writing out a three week physical therapy stint to work on increasing my range of movement, which has been reduced to a fraction of my formerly long and fast stride. He tells me I’ll have to live with the bursitis for the rest of my life. Oh, I so don’t think so. I didn’t check this body out from The Big Guy only to live it in pain.
I went home and researched. The Celebrex samples he gave me were like a gift from God. I could move pain free. Until I suffered from dizziness and other unpleasant side effects. So long Celebrex. It’s okay, really, since I hate taking drugs anyway. But, oh, the pain..
PT is agonizing. It takes my breath away, and all I can do is laugh through the incredible pain as the therapist stretches, massages, pulls, and bends my leg into positions I haven’t been able to reach in some time. It feels like all 150 bursae within my body are on fire, mocking me as they inflame with impunity. I can’t remember the last time I slept without waking from the pain as I accidentally roll over on my bad side. Sometimes it doesn’t even matter how I sleep – it hurts all the time.
Until last night. I can’t imagine why I didn’t think of it sooner, but last night, for some reason, I rested my palm on my hip and let the Reiki rip through. I immediately felt the pain dissipate. I slept like that for the rest of the night, frying my hip. This morning, I’m completely pain free. My range of motion is better than it’s been in ages. I can skip down the stairs and pop up the stairs. So my new morning routine will be to do my stretching exercises and a hit of Reiki.
Now, it’s times like this when I become impatient with docs who tell me that Reiki is nothing more than magical thinking. Magic is sleight of hand stuff that gives the illusion of reality. I challenge any doc who tries to insist that no correlation exists between my late night Reiki treatment and the fact that I suddenly can move better without pain and have better range of motion than I’ve had in years.
I’ve said it for years, and I’ll say it again; Reiki can facilitate in the delivery of conventional health care. It’s easy to take, and there are no side effects. I fail to see why docs call this woo.
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
For some reason my son’s beagle has ever really liked me. I chalked it up to a slipped gene or that she is an incredibly good judge of character. Whatever the reason, it all came crashing in after her little trip to the vet so she wouldn’t be able to make baby beagles. After her return the following day, she was in pain and, despite her pain pills, she howled. As much as she hates me, I felt so sorry for her.
She must have still been on a contact high from the anesthesia because she oh-so-gently got up on the couch and curled next to me, shivering and shaking. So I Reiki’d her. She looked up at me as if to say, “What the hell are you doing, you nutjob?” She always looks at me that way.
I told her to relax. And she did. In fact, she went out like a light. I’ve never Reiki’d a dog before, and I found it amusing that she soaked up the energy just like humans do. After about a half hour, the energy degraded, and I declared her officially lasered and half-baked.
Well, wouldn’t I know it, but now I have a new best friend. She follows me everywhere. She even sleeps with us; not on our bed but under the covers. She even told my dog where to get off when she jumped on our bed to snuggle.
So now I know how to win over temperamental beagles. Reiki 'em once, they love you for life. If only it was that easy to win over docs...
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
I remember watching Demolition Man years ago (hubby needs to have a mild dose of mindless violence every now and then) and laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. In particular was the wussified nature of the populace in 2032 and how everyone bent to the teachings of Dr. Cocteau. Lenina Huxley (I always thought that an interesting nod to Aldus Huxley of Brave New World fame) ably explains that “everything deemed bad for you is now illegal.” This includes alcohol, caffeine, contact sports, non-educational toys, meat, spicy and unhealthy food, table salt and tobacco. It was all such a hoot back in 1993 when I first saw this movie.
However, when I take a look around me, I’m not so sure that Demolition Man isn’t more prophecy than science fiction. We have the government encroaching on our lives at an increasing rate, and we’re allowing them to do it one lost right at a time. New York City banned trans fats in all their restaurants. Reminds me of the Taco Bell scene where John Spartan asked for salt and was met with the nervous explanation that it was illegal.
I’m not quite sure I’m ready to live Edgar Friendly’s way, beneath the city eating rat burgers, but I’m also not ready to put my faith in government health care. Face it, those who hold the power, make the rules. It’s exactly like the time, many years ago as a snotty seventh grader, my son insisted that “it’s my room, and I’ll leave it as messy as I want.” Lofty words from one who doesn’t pay the mortgage. But unlike the government, I used my powers for good. My son, at twenty-five, is a successful, responsible member of society who understands that ultimate power corrupts.
If we allow universal health care to strangle our nation, the individual will become expendable. It will no longer be about our individual rights to health care, but what is achievable for “the good of society.” That MRI you need for your bad hip may have to wait until six months down the line. Or longer. Or never. Why? Because it’s expensive, and the government simply doesn’t have enough money to take care of everyone’s needs.
Who cares if you ultimately can’t work due to the bad hip. Your life will be taken care of by disability, or social security, or some other government funded assistance program. Sure, it’d be cheaper to fix the person rather than have them bleed some social program dry, but hey, we’ll simply raise taxes again. It’s free money! So grandma or little Mary who’s stricken with leukemia just may have to be one of the expendables. It’s for the “good of society.”
And what of the medical professionals who are expected to be on the front lines of the government’s folly? They’re already being treated like second class citizens. They are expected to work long hours with less money. Medicine is being taken out of their hands right now. The good folks who carry clipboards and run the insurance companies, people who have little or no medical background, are telling docs what and how many tests they’re allowed to perform. It’s not about healing; it’s about the bottom line.
Docs are expected to make do with aging equipment because there isn’t enough money to get new equipment. How is this remotely possible given that hospital administrators take home millions?
Given the shift to socialism and the stranglehold on their livelihoods, how many people are going to become doctors? They begin their practices hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt, and they’ll work for many, many years just trying to survive while trying to pay off those loans. I see a giant doctor shortage in the future.
In Demolition Man, sex and pregnancy is illegal. Sounds silly now, but so did the banning of salt. And yet, we see the Child Nutrition Promotion and School Protection Act that prevents schools from serving “junk food.” How much longer before the government comes into the pantries of our homes as well? Remember, they’re in charge and have ultimate power because we gave it to them.
Gradualism is one of the scariest words in my personal dictionary because it proves that anything can be accomplished given the gradual wearing down of the public mindset. This is what the PC crowd is all about. It’s social engineering at its worst because of its insidious cancer-like spread into the human spirit. Go rent Demolition Man, and you’ll see what I mean. The populace in “San Angeles” was so lost that they allowed an opportunist to come in and take control of every aspect of their lives.
As for me; I’m not ready to turn over my medical fate to the government. Not when they can’t even run the Dept. of Motor Vehicles or any other government agency with a modicum of efficiency. I don’t want them telling me when or if I can have that MRI. And I most certainly don’t want to be listed as expendable. In the end, the Great Government Medical Experiment will suffer the same dismal fate of
I don’t know, maybe a rat burger doesn’t sound so bad after all…