Wha' huh? AAP addresses CAM

Interesting article floated my way (thanks Jack!) about how the American Academy of Pediatrics have seen a rise in patients who utilize some forms of Complementary Alternative Medicine (CAM) and felt compelled to address the issue. For the uninitiated, CAM, as defined by The National Center for Complementary and Alternative Medicine (NCCAM) of the National Institutes of Health (NIH), is a group of diverse medical and health care systems, practices, and products that are not presently considered to be part of conventional Western medicine.

Complementary Medicine means that any of these diverse modalities, such as massage therapy, biofeedback, acupuncture, or guided imagery is used in conjunction with Western medicine.

Alternative Medicine proscribes to exclusivity, meaning that a modality is used in place of Western medicine, like using herbs to treat an infection rather than using antibiotics.

I find this whole issue of CAM and Western medicine holding hands together an intriguing idea, and became the foundation behind my book, Donovan's Paradigm. My character of Kim Donovan is trying to rewrite the medical books, starting with the surgical ward of her new hospital and runs into all kinds of heat.

What I find interesting about this article is its revelation of how some previously wiggy types of treatment wended their way into Western medicine. Things that were thought inane have now gained respectability with the majority of medical personnel. Modalities like the aforementioned acupuncture, massage therapy, biofeedback, hypnotherapy have been tested and integrated into doctors' verbiage and treatment plans.

So much so, that the language of medicine is changing. What used to be CAM has morphed into integrative medicine and holistic medicine, which is a nice way of saying "stuff we're willing to accept because we've tested it enough to prove its efficacy" and "no effing way." It's like a plus and minus column, and those columns shift depending upon the medical community's ability to test it for viable results. I'm hopeful that one day Reiki will move to the plus column.

The article is all quite science-y, but the end result is that the medical community realizes this CAM/Integrative/holistic stuff isn't going to disappear anytime soon, and they're studying it so they can provide better information to their patients.

Damn. Kim would be so proud.

Some surgeons just need to be kissed

So I'm waiting for the surgeon to come give my mom the last pat on the back and mark her hip - as in, "Cut Here, dumbshit." I'm giving her a Reiki treatment and all is going great. Hip replacement surgery - or as hubby calls it, getting a new suspension under the hood - is as commonplace as a well-placed adverb, so no one is nervous.

The doc arrives, all business, and marks her hip. He looks at me as I have my hands wrapped around Mom's feet. "Feet cold?" No, sez I, Reiki treatment. He beams. That's fabulous, he says through a big smile. That ought to be standard protocol as far as I'm concerned.

So, like, I'm in love.

Surgery went well. Mom has a new suspension, and I have a new buddy in the medical field. All is well.

Start spreadin’ the news…

A friend of mine was being treated for breast cancer. She was just beginning the chemo/radiation bit when she asked me for Reiki treatments. Hell yes, sez I. Anything to help combat the side effects of cancer treatment.

Tell your doc what you’re doing, I told her. Why? she asked. After all, it’s not like you’re writing out a Reiki prescription that I need to get filled at my local Reiki Mart. Very funny, I say. Tell your doc because he needs to know everything you’re doing. For example, you’re taking pain meds and anti-nausea stuff, and the Reiki could mess with those doses. Shaddap, she says. Really?

Yes. Really.

So my friend does the exact opposite and doesn’t tell her doc about the Reiki. Embarrassed, she tells me. He’s one of those guys who would roll his eyes at me. I can’t take that kind of judgment right now.

She got to the point where she no longer needed the pain and anti-nausea stuff, which was totally cool because she was finally able to keep food down, gain some weight, and return to work. When her blood tests started going wonky, the doctor made numerous adjustments to her chemo and finally asked her what the hell was going on. She came clean about the Reiki.

I’ve always questioned whether it was possible for someone’s eyes to truly bug out of their head. I mean really bug. But apparently they can. At least that’s what my friend says. But her doc did something that she didn’t expect. He told her he respected and supported her efforts to take an active role in controlling her destiny. He knew squat all about Reiki, but he allowed as how that since she was back at work, eating, off her pain and nausea meds that perhaps there was something to it. But he wished she’d told him.

And I guess that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? We have faith in our docs to take care of us and keep us medically safe, so shouldn’t we extend that faith and believe they’ll be supportive of our efforts to survive and thrive? If they dare to laugh, call them an insensitive scum-sucking bovine. But definitely take The Chairman’s advice and start spreadin’ the news, ‘cause they really need to know.

“Oh...gross!”

I have always held a fascination for docs because they can unload someone’s insides and put them back together again with (hopefully) no spare parts left over. How cool is that? I can’t put a Tonka toy together without a couple pieces hanging around.

In all the research I’ve done with docs of all flavors, I never asked how they feel about getting slopped on by their patients. As a mom, I’ve had my kids gorp on me any number of times, and it was always a battle between keeping it together or yaking with them. And these are my kids. If a stranger let loose with their bodily fluids, I know I’d lose it.

MDOD tell a story of sitting in a puddle of pee because the drunk patient mistook the chair for the gotty-go. That would have been my first yak of the shift. I’ve read stories about docs being immersed in blood, vomit, feces, brain matter, and it all makes my stomach turn flip flops. So how do docs maintain a professional attitude? I’m sure they’re more caught up in the emergency, but isn’t there a place in their brain that registers, “Ohmygod, this guy just belched blood all over me. YUCK.”

I’m sure I’ll need to know this information at some point in my writing career. And unlike my normal wont of experiential writing, I’m good with simply getting feedback. No amount of Reiki would get me through the night. Of this, I am certain.

Renewal

On my way home from spending Easter in Palm Springs, I drove on the toll road this past Sunday and noticed the explosion of new growth everywhere. Well, duh, it’s springtime. Thing is, I live in southern California, the area that was devastated by all those canyon fires. Both sides of the toll road were scarred with blackened hulks of trees and scorched brush. The landscape resembled the moon rather than the lush wilderness where signs are regularly posted to watch out for crossing deer.

I smiled as I whizzed by burnt out tree trunks sporting shrouds of brilliant green leaves and fresh carpets of new grass. It made me think about how life offers hope and surprises. Those of us who live here thought the land had been too badly burned to ever sustain new life. But here it is, springing forth in an effortless manner, unconcerned about what everyone thought. Life found a way. It always does.

It made me think of the times I’ve felt energy pouring from my hands, urging new growth on a scorched soul. It’s amazing what we pick up with the simple act of touch. “What’s it feel like?” I’m often asked.

Well, for me, it’s a series of sensations. First thing that happens is that the palms of my hands grow warm. It spreads throughout my body with a warm glow and goes clear down to my feet. The energy ebbs and flows when I touch someone. After about a minute or so, I feel as though I’m being pulled inward into a gentle trance. I’m still aware of everything going on around me but it's a few layers removed. Sort of like being draped in Saran Wrap. Once I reach that level, the energy gets really ramped up, and I just sit back and enjoy the ride.

How can I enjoy the ride while touching someone who’s physically or mentally broken? It’s fairly simple, actually, because I know that the energy offers that person something they will never receive from a prescription bottle – a sense of peace and relaxation that has no side effects. And just like breaking the dry and brittle branches off a tree, I can feel the energy gliding through the canyons of a person’s spirit. Sometimes it feels like a pop or a wheeze, and other times it feels like a breath of wind.

And the picture is always the same when I finish working on someone. Their eyes are slow to open, and they almost always have a sloppy grin on their face. “So how do you feel?” I ask.

“Grrrreat,” is the usual slurred reply.

I smile because my first reply to that same questions was, “I feel like my insides were scrubbed clean with Ajax.” And Reiki does feel great because, just like the once-burnt landscape, life always finds a way.

It feels like renewal.

“Baggage is a big-ticket item”

I read that headline in the paper yesterday and my thoughts immediately went to the subject matter – that airlines will start charging fees for oversized and extra luggage. Since I do a lot of flying this, quite frankly, pisses me off.

But this also hit me on an esoteric level, and I found the headline even more interesting when I read the comment made by the United Airline’s senior veep: “The definition of basic airline service is evolving, and different airlines have different answers on what comes standard with a ticket.”

When I thought about this in a medical/integrative medical level, my only thought was, “Oh my holy liver, what a concept! How I wish a doctor had made it.” With a little tweaking, this sentence would read:

“The definition of basic medical care is evolving, and different doctors have different answers on what comes standard with treatment.”

Could it be that standard medical treatment is evolving? With mind/body medicine making a bigger splash in the medical arena, the idea of wellness and disease are taking on new definitions. Suddenly the baggage that we all carry takes on new significance. Stress, fear, loneliness, abandonment, divorce, financial issues, life-long family issues are playing a responsible role in diagnosing disease.

With all the emotional baggage we carry, is it such a strange notion to have things a little backward – that docs are treating the manifestation of something far larger. For instance, what’s the first thing a cardiologist tells his patients? “Reduce your stress levels.” They’ve known for many years that stress kills. Stress is accepted as one of many catalysts for the manifestation of heart disease. Is then a stretch of the imagination to include loneliness, anger, or hate in that list as well? If our baggage is seen as being a catalyst to disease, then doesn’t it make sense to treat that just as aggressively?

For example, I remember a nurse telling me many years ago that cancer was “the angry disease.” Huh? I’ve known a number of people with cancer, and I’d say most of them displayed that particular characteristic, but what about the others, who were some of my best buds?

“No,” she told me, “I’m not talking about the screamers and yellers. They’re the ones with high blood pressure and ulcers. The cancer folk are invariably the quiet ones with festering bundles of unexpressed rage or resentment. That rage has to go somewhere, and it seeks out the weakest link. Sure, we know all about mutated cells that go haywire and turn into cancer, but that spark has to have a point of origin - just like a fire. So where does the spark come from? I say anger has a lot to do with it.” She shrugged and told me it was her armchair philosophy based on years spent as a nurse.

I was utterly riveted by her thoughts and flashed back to the old, “she died of a broken heart” explanation when I attended a funeral as a kid. Is that actually a possibility? If so, shouldn’t we, as a society, be taking a closer look at ourselves to see whether we’re carrying too many bags, its contents, and if it’s too heavy?

I know that when I began Reiki my health was vastly improved. Besides giving up my medicine (on doctor’s orders), I no longer suffered crushing headaches that plagued me. Was the energy getting in and helping me cosmically unpack? I’ll never really know, of course. Though I will say that I feel as though I walk around with a much lighter load.

Baggage really is a big-ticket item, and I long for the day when docs enter America’s exam rooms and ask what baggage we are carrying and help relieve us of a suitcase or three. Man oh man, now that’s what I call evolution.

“Why didn’t I get better?”

The woman was indignant when she confronted me at a book event Q & A. “My Reiki lady told me I’d get better, and I still have acid reflux!”

Hooboy, how does one inform without admitting that the Reiki therapist appears to be a dolt? And, wait a minute, why should I care? The therapist is a dolt.

What brought on this whole line of questioning was my story about how Reiki freed me from the symptoms of attention deficit disorder. The Ritalin that had fired the synapses in my brain for so many years was now too strong, and I couldn’t tolerate it. After stopping the meds, my brain fired all on its own. Talk about ultimate balance. I got so balanced that I also couldn’t tolerate taking hormone replacement therapy after a complete hysterectomy ten years prior. My doc is still completely and utterly confused as to why.

I looked at the lady and plunged in. “Look, I have no idea why I no longer have ADD or why I don’t need HRTs,” I explained. “I went into Reiki for research and had no expectations of what it would do for me. In fact, I was an ardent skeptic. However, since taking the journey with Reiki, I realize that the energy balanced out whatever was creating these manifestations. But what worked for me doesn’t mean it’s going to work for everyone. I have a very good friend who’s been a Reiki Master for seven years and suffers terribly with ADD.” I shrugged. “Go figure.”

“So how does that fly in the face of what my Reiki lady told me?”

I took a breath and impeached her therapist. “Unless we’re talking about a doc and meds, no one can or should tell you that they can cure anything. Reiki is a divine intelligent energy that works on its own schedule and intent. Therapists are merely the conduit. Reiki works in spite of us. To promise anything more is irresponsible and potentially dangerous.”

She rested her elbows on her knees and stared at me. “So why did you get better?”

“Maybe on some cosmic level I no longer needed ADD.” I held up my hand to stave off the expected throwing of verbal knives. “I know, I know, you’re about to cut my throat for suggesting that disease comes into our lives because we need them, and that’s not what I’m saying at all. I’m suggesting that it’s possible my body or my soul was ready to give this up. It’s like a car that’s has a misaligned wheel and drives like a knock-kneed donkey. The mechanic realigns the wheel so it’s in synch with the rest of the car, and the result is that we have a smooth ride. But, unlike the mechanic, we aren’t the director of the energy, merely the purveyor. But like the mechanic, we can put our hands on the source of the problem and give it our direct attention – NOT intention. Thar be a difference. It's possible that my body and Reiki were in the same place at the right time. I've seen amazing and startling recoveries from some serious diseases. But can I say it works for everyone all the time? No way.”

The woman sat back and appeared deflated. “So my Reiki lady can’t fix my acid reflux?”

“Your Reiki lady can’t fix anything. She can transfer energy from her hands to your body and let the energy do its thing. To take ownership of the promise to healing someone is arrogant. The true credit for healing goes to the Reiki, in whatever form that healing takes place.”

The poor woman was visibly deflated. “I feel like I’ve been sold a bill of goods.”

“I think your therapist” – and yes, I choked on the words – “has allowed her ego to get in the way. You might think about finding another Reiki therapist who can better explain Reiki and attend to your expectations.”

I then proceeded to offer a quickie treatment to her after the Q & A – which she took me up on.
As I rested my hands on her shoulders, I could feel the tension welling up inside her. She was a bundle of nerves. My hands burned, she had her “Ahhh” Moment, and the tension eventually melted.

She turned to me with glazed eyes and smiled. “I’ve never felt that good. Thank you." She held up a copy of my book. "Will you sign your book for me?”

Heh, do I look like an idiot?

I signed her book and gave her a hug. I then made a mental note to seek out her “Reiki lady” and tie her to a fence post and make her listen to “I’m An Oscar Meyer Weiner” from dawn to dusk.

But I don’t know nuthin’ ‘bout birthin’ no babies…

Five years ago I took a seventeen day bug-filled trip to the Peruvian Amazon with a medical group to further my book research. It remains one of the most soul searching, fabulous, horrific, spiritual times of my life. I expected to be an observer. I never anticipated how much my participatory role would change my perspective on life and the lives around me.

Stories from the Amazon:

She was fifteen-years-old – an age when girls are dating, downloading music into their iPods, text messaging, and thinking about how much that upcoming history final is going to blow. But not here in the Peruvian Amazon. It’s a whole different life. Hell, it’s a whole different planet.

Our medical team arrived at a dusty village that hugged the Amazon River via The Anita, our floating collection of splintered wood, faded paint, a choking motor, spit, and glue. The rest of the team was there for medical reasons – doctors and medical students. I was there to do research for my next book. Patty, the expedition leader told me that “we’ll put you to good use.” I figured that meant I’d be the head gopher fetching scissors or the occasional bandage. Seems my gifts of prophecy had abandoned me.

“Hey, want to help out with a birth?”

I looked up from the screaming scabie-covered three-year-old I was bathing. “Huh? Me?”

Patty smiled. “Sure, why not?”

We dried off my little charge, dressed her in her filthy clothes, and gave her back to her mother, along with a baggie full of medicated soap and instructions – knowing full well they wouldn’t be followed.

I followed Patty to the grass-covered hut that, had this been fortified with A/C and maid service, would have been absolute paradise. While removing my boots, I tried to mask my shock at the mother’s youth. Fifteen. Not that much younger than my daughter. She was in hard labor, scared, and in pain.

“I don’t imagine you have anything for her pain,” I said, staring into the young girl’s deep dark eyes.

Patty shook her head. “The money we get from donations doesn’t cover pain meds for labor and delivery.”

The baby was big and the doc was preparing to do the episiotomy. Having given birth to three kids, I knew those suckers could be painful. I asked if they could hold off for a bit. Sure, they said. Why?

I rubbed my hands together and smiled at the girl. “Let her know that I’m going to place my hands on her stomach.” My Spanish is limited to asking for a beer and directions to the bathroom.

The minute my hands touched her stomach, I felt a surge of energy leap out. It’s like the energy had sat poised, ready to spring like a jaguar at just the right moment. Almost immediately, the girl’s eyes fluttered and closed. I heard that oh-so-satisfying “Ahhh” Moment as she sighed and relaxed.

“Aiyeeee!” the mother wailed while watching her daughter slip into a meditative state. What was I doing to her daughter?

Patty quietly interpreted my explanation. The mother’s eyes widened, and she drew back and looked at me in awe.

“What the hell did you tell her?” I whispered through the side of my mouth.

Patty never got the chance to answer me. The baby’s head crowned, the doc did the episiotomy, and a healthy baby slipped out. Mom came out of her meditative state relaxed and seemingly pain free.

“That was amazing,” Patty said. “I’ve never seen Reiki used like this.”

I wiped my sweaty brow. “Me either. I’m a freaking author, not a midwife.”

The new grandmother pressed a beaded macramé necklace into my hands and thanked me. At least I think she thanked me.

Patty laughed. “She’s calling you a curandera. A healer. Pretty cool for an author.”

One of the smart aleck med students laughed and began bowing. “All hail the curandera!”

Honored beyond belief, I pulled out my best Spanish and ordered a beer.

Complimentary /Complementary

Seems like a minor thing – the change of a single letter – but that one letter makes a bucket load of difference in the world of medicine. A comment made in this post brought to mind an email I received last month complimenting my novel:

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“Thank you for this book. Even though it’s fiction, your story mirrors what I am currently experiencing with my husband as he battles cancer. I’m now looking at complimentary medicine as a source of hope to help ease my husband’s suffering from the radiation and chemo.”

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Hers was a very cool email, and, happily, it’s in keeping with the majority of my mail. However, she got a bit tripped up on the spelling. Normally I wouldn’t care and would shrug it off as a typo. Problem is, I see this enough that I wanted to point out the difference.

Complimentary is “making nice,” as in, “Oh, how nice that you’re doing Reiki on your son before surgery,” or, “Reiki is a good source of relaxation and help promote healing.” No doubt; a compliment is lovely to hear – especially after suffering through a blistering medical seminar where I was accused of being there simply to sell books – but it can feel dismissive when dealing in the medical world. My advocacy goes much deeper, and my goals are much bolder.

The word Complementary, on the other hand, is supplemental and adds something that others lack. This is meat and potatoes fare, not whipped-cream-cherry-on-top platitudes. And this is my focus, my hope for the evolution of medicine.

Reiki, and other non-science-based healing options – geez, how’s that for PC – offer something that conventional medicine doesn’t, and it’s what I call the “Ahhh” Moment. It’s connecting soul to soul with a patient who’s scared out of their open-backed gowns and feeling an energy I’ll never understand flow freely and intelligently from my hands. Watching a patient’s eyes close and their face relax into a sleepy, sloppy grin is the closest thing to Nirvana I’ll ever get. Whatever awaits them in the OR, they now have something extra that no amount of medicine can offer – peace and balance.

I know, this ‘e’ and ‘i’ issue may seem picky to many, but I’m an author, an editor, and a Reiki master, so I like to be clear. However, if you want to compliment me on my new shoes, I will welcome any and all.

Reiki - Spiritually Guided Life Force Energy

As is the wont of most twenty-five-year-olds, my son considers himself indestructible. Bully for him – except when he’s challenging a mountain and a rail armed with a snowboard and no helmet. Guess who won? A broken clavicle in four places landed him in surgery this past Monday.

The nurses took him back and got him prepped. It was at this point he got pretty nervous, so I went back and Reiki’d him like crazy. The energy poured out of me, and he soaked it up like a sponge. After a few minutes he went from anxious, to completely relaxed, to the point of snozzing off into a deep meditative state.

Okay, that was cool, but I’ve done that before. Here’s the funky part; I happened to be working on the soles of his feet when the anesthesiologist came in to give him his pre-surgical cocktail. The minute the drugs left the tubing and went into his veins, the energy shot out of my hands like fire. I mean, it ramped up like I’ve never felt before. My hands and my son’s feet tingled and burned. It’s like the energy knew the drugs had entered his body and set about doing its thing. I’ve never done Reiki in the midst of an injection before, and this gave me a front row seat to witnessing an intelligent energy knowing far more than I. I’m merely the conduit.

Truly amazing. Truly humbling.

The medical personnel was great. No one whistled the Twilight Zone theme song. In fact, the OR nurse grinned when she found out I was doing Reiki and said, "Oh, I love that stuff!"

“We Need Scientific Proof!”

This is what a young resident told me the other day after I finished frying the synapses of my ER bud, Mark. Mark has been a happier camper since I started giving him a weekly Reiki treatment, and the resident was puzzled as to why. He simply couldn’t wrap his brain around the idea of energy treatments via my hands would send his formerly high octane boss into Nirvana.

He fell into the same trap that all good scientists do; he wanted to disseminate Reiki in order to understand its scientific properties, like one would do with a medicine. Problem is, there is little about Reiki that will satisfy our current definition of science. I tried equating Reiki to love – you can’t disseminate love either and, while there are some who question its existence, most of us accept it as part of our DNA. The resident was having none of it.

We were at a standstill until it hit me; he knows zip about the foundations of complementary alternative medicine principals, so it’s impossible for him to process the viability of Reiki. It’s like love. Until you’ve flipped both sides of the coin and have been in love, it’s impossible to make any judgments about it one way or another. Hampered by the lack of fundamental understanding, this resident is listening to a foreign language.

The way I see it, this resident is representative of the dichotomy currently taking place in medicine. Because many scientists don’t understand CAM principals, they want the ability to reduce holistic systems down to their most basic physical mechanisms like they do with medicine. Thing is, CAM can’t be measured following the traditional scientific rules, so the data becomes minimized, obscured, or distorted. I’m no longer puzzled over responses such as this young resident because I have friends like Mark who offer little in the way of scientific verification other than he “feels reeeal good.”

“Why Reiki?”

My friend Mark, an ER doc, sat across the table from me and finished his Coke, making that disgusting slurpy noise when the straw hits the bottom of an empty glass. “I really liked your book, but, geez, why Reiki? It’s so, so –”

“Out there?”

He laughed and nodded. “Out there. Definitely.”

I shrugged. “Why not?”

“Because, like I said, it’s out there.”

“Look, Mark, you’re equating ‘out there’ as ‘not viable,’ and while my book doesn’t set an agenda, it is an entertaining invitation to think outside the box. I think docs who integrate alternative forms of healing to their practice is an intriguing idea. It’s controversial, to be sure, but it also gets people talking on both sides of the aisle about the future of health care and the various paths that care might take. This sells books, and, as an author, this makes me happy.”

“So it’s all about sales.”

I toss my straw wrapper at him. “Well, yeah, it’s about sales, stupid – I’m an author. But it’s also about making the reader go, “hmmm.” Integrative medicine is happening, as you well know. The first rule of writing is to write what you love and what you know. I love the whole doctor thing – what makes you tick, how you handle controversial ideas, and how your biases or personal journeys affect your patients’ care. What better idea than to bring two explosive ideas together – docs and integrative medicine? I’m very good at getting under the white coated curtain to humanize docs. I chose Reiki, in particular, because it’s one of the least understood forms of alternative healing options but produces some of the most interesting results. It’s also easy for docs and nurses to do while they’re working.”

“Yeah, I know, I know,” he said, rolling his eyes. “The old laying of the hands bit to spread energy around. So what’s it accomplish for the patient?”

“Let’s put it on a simpler level. It’s been cold lately, right? And we humans work better when we’re comfortable. So rather than heating empty rooms in the entire house, I close vents and doors and trap the air in the rooms where we’re occupying. That means the guest room is freezing, and so is the library. Our bodies are the same way. Energy surrounds every living cell, but energy gets trapped and doesn’t flow properly. It affects our health. Reiki goes in and opens the doors and lets the warmth flow in all the rooms.”

Mark stared at me. “Do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound?”

I thought of some of the internet docs I know and seminars I’ve attended. “Yeah, Mark, I know how ridiculous I sound. I felt the same way when I first heard about Reiki. My original manuscript had Reiki as a mere footnote. Through my research phase, I encountered it on a more personal level and became intrigued. The more I learned, the more curious I became. After a few shots of this energy stuff, and I had to know more. It took my book in a whole different direction. The fact that I was an ardent skeptic shouldn’t be ignored. I made them prove it to me.”

“Yeah, but that’s the point. You can’t prove Reiki works.”

“I know how I felt. I saw verifiable changes through how relaxed I felt. I nearly soiled myself to realize I no longer needed my meds. That strikes me as fairly compelling proof. And no one could explain it.”

“But you can’t guarantee results.”

“You can’t guarantee results with hypnotherapy, either, but it’s been widely accepted for years. And now I’m hearing that guided imagery is being elevated beyond the X-files category? I’ve seen some great things happen with guided imagery on cancer patients, but come on, no one can guarantee its efficacy. Even so, you guys have decided to give it its due? It’s selective. And it’s like you say; Reiki is ‘out there.’”

He shoved his drink away and folded his arms. “Okay, fry me.”

I blinked. “Huh?”

“Fry me. Go on, give me a Reiki treatment.”

I looked around the crowded restaurant. “I can’t do it here.”

“We’ll go back to the hospital.”

So we went to the hospital where he found an empty exam room. I had him lie on the exam table and relax while I took some deep cleansing breaths. It took mere seconds to feel the trademark warmth pulsating through the palms of my hands. I placed my hands on his forehead and the top of his head.

“Why there?” he asked.

“Beats me. Seems to be where my hands want to go.”

“It’s hot.”

“Yes, Mark.”

“Feel gooood,” he said, sounding slightly mushy. “Oh wow…”

Within minutes Mark was snoring. I zoned out, too, which is common. It’s not falling asleep, but rather, going into a meditative state where you’re semi-aware of your surroundings.

The energy subsided, and I woke up. Half an hour had gone by. I removed my hands from Mark’s head, and he woke up slowly.

“I feel like a freaking million bucks,” he said, stretching. “I also feel like I’m on another planet. Will I be able to do my job?”

“You’ll do just fine. I promise.”

He called me later that night, after his shift. “Um, so, like, when can you do this Reiki shit again? I had the shift of my life.”

“Slow night?”

“Are you kidding? We had our usual pile up of death-defying teens driving Daddy’s expensive cars, drug seekers, sniffles, flu, illegals – the usual. But none of it bothered me. I handled my cases and dealt with the usual administrative crap that prevents me from practicing medicine the way it should be practiced – and it rolled off my back. I flew through my shift with a smile. A freaking smile! I never smile. Not anymore. Whatever you did to me, I want it again. Yeah, yeah, I know what I said earlier today, but I’d like to see if my shift was a fluke or whether you really got something here.”

“So now you’ve answered your own question,” I said.

“What question?”

“You asked me today, ‘why Reiki?’ for my book. Now you know. Now go forth, young Grasshopper, and tell your colleagues that we aren’t to be feared, but embraced.”

“Yes, Great Yoda…”

Where I Stand on the Issues of Integrative Forms of Healing

After writing my book and going out on the discussion circuit, I received a small, but not unexpected backlash from docs regarding its premise of selected integrative healing options being mainstreamed into the hospitals. I took great pains to not make this an agenda book because I see where there are legit concerns surrounding integrative medicine. Much needs to be said regarding this issue, and I felt my book opened the door to getting the pros and cons out there.

I became acquainted with Reiki during the research phase of my book. Reiki, initially, was a mere footnote in the book until it made a huge impact on my own health. No one was more dubious and skeptical than I. Healing energy that pours through one’s hands? Give me a break. It wasn’t until my docs had to take me off my meds for reasons they couldn’t identify that I realized something big had happened to me, and that maybe we don’t know everything there is to know about healing. I felt it an intriguing (and controversial) premise for my book.

There’s a line from my main character in my second book that sums it up: “For a profession where knowledge is power and new discoveries await us at every turn, we doctors certainly are a close-minded lot.” Those words came from my imagination before my first book came out. I had yet to discover how prophetic those words would be as I encountered over-generalized bias.

Most comments I’ve encountered run along the same lines; integrative medicine preys upon the ignorant, gullible, and desperate who stupidly shell out thousands for fake cures. There is truth to this comment, and this is something I play up in my book. For every honest alternative healing option, there are dozens of fake ones. I understand docs’ anger over this because people are dying or getting sick from curable diseases.

But rather than denigrating the uses of alternatives, the crux of the debate should center on the need for patients to always go to their docs. Integrative /alternatives/ CAM, whatever label you use, is not a replacement for medical care. It’s an addition, and patients need to always communicate with their docs about what forms of alternatives they’re using.

But docs shoot themselves in the foot by lashing out. How forthcoming is a patient going to be if they’re laughed at or told they’re stupid? When my doc and I came to the conclusion that I could no longer tolerate my meds - we scratched our heads until I realized the only change in my treatment was Reiki. If I had felt for one minute that I was going to be subjected to humiliation, I would have kept my mouth shut. A doctor's reaction/ belief system is very influential to the doctor-patient relationship, and I worry about about eroding communication to the point of silence.

Why do I say this? I researched many people who use various forms of alternatives, and most reasons given for shunning their doctors was that their doctors had at one time or another made them feel like fools for using Reiki or a chiro, or acupuncture, etc. I recommended they find new docs. They shook their heads and said they were in far better hands. Now that scares the shit out of me.

I’m not saying that Reiki, chiropractic, or acupuncture will cure all disease for everyone because no one can guarantee that. Because of this, I see why many docs are skeptical. But as long as patients continue to be under a doctor’s care, I see no reason why alternative healing options can’t be considered viable. And I see no reason why docs shouldn’t expand their horizons to do some unbiased research. There is plenty of solid information out there, many from well-respected mainstream docs and surgeons.

So that’s where I stand. I believe in integrating alternative healing options into science-based medicine to create a united front against disease. I believe in being cared for by my docs. I believe integrative/ mind-body medicine isn’t going away because there's too much out there that supports its use. I believe docs can either close their minds to the notion that they don’t know absolutely everything about how the body heals and how the mind contributes to wellness, or they can hold fast to their beliefs and risk losing open communication with their patients.