I saw a healer yesterday.
Yes, you read that right. A healer.
Or at least, that’s how she was described to me. I’m not entirely sure that’s how she would describe herself. But, that is how she was described to me.
By Teeny. Teeny who has been trying to get me to see this woman for months. Literally, months.
It's not that I haven’t been open to it. At the root of things, this woman is a massage therapist. And Teeny has sworn up and down about her ability to lay her hands on people and read things from their bodies. Her ability to guide them into the direction they need to go towards healing. The path they need to take in order to find the peace within their bodies that they seek.
At one point in time, Teeny even offered to pay for a session with her for me. That’s how badly she wanted me to go. I wouldn’t let her of course – my pride getting in the way of letting anyone else pay for me to seek out any kind of treatment – but she did hit the crux of my resistance with her offer. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe in this woman’s healing potential (there is the hippy side of me that believes very much that some people possess certain gifts that far exceed what most of us have the capabilities of understanding), or that I was in any way opposed to receiving a good massage (we all know how much I enjoy my massages), it was just that… my funds are more than a little depleted. I still have mounds of debt left over from my futile attempts at baby making, and there is that budget I’m trying furiously to stick to in order to ensure an end to that debt over the next few years. And this would be just one more visit. One more person to regularly see and throw money at.
It’s not that I’m resistant to the idea of seeing a healer. It’s that I’m resistant to the idea of throwing any more money (time/effort/heart) at attempts to fight this disease without some sort of guarantee.
But of course, there are no guarantees. Birth control didn’t work. Lupron didn’t work. IVF didn’t work. The endo diet didn’t work. And now it appears as though my miracle surgery didn’t work either.
There are no guarantees.
Only plans B, and C, and D, and E.
As long as you can go through the alphabet until I can find a solution that does work.
Or until I have to turn around and go back through all the plans again.
There are no guarantees.
Ever.
Just a will to keep fighting. To keep persevering. And to keep searching until something works.
Because eventually, something has to work.
So, after Monday night’s special visit to the hospital, I finally caved. I was healing up pretty well in the days that followed my burst cyst, and by Thursday my stomach no longer carried the same tenderness and sensitivity that it had in the preceding days. But my back wasn’t healing. It wasn’t letting go of the pressure. The ache. It wasn’t easing up at all. No matter what position I found myself in, my lower back was throbbing. Sending shooting pains down my hip and through my leg. Reminding me that I needed a massage at this point no matter what.
Beckoning me to check out this healer, if for no other reason than to be able to say I had.
I made an appointment for yesterday at 2:15.
And as soon as I saw her, I knew that I knew her.
I had met her at Teeny’s wedding last weekend. Actually, at the hot yoga bridal shower just days before the wedding.
Of course, Teeny hadn’t introduced her to me as the woman she had spoken so often about. But I suddenly had a distinct feeling that this woman had known exactly who I was. That she had been assessing me from the start. Not wanting to pressure me or push me, but waiting simply for the day when I would choose to come to her.
Somehow knowing that I would sooner than later.
And that, is how this massage started off. With me feeling somewhere deep down in my bones that this healer had known I would be coming to her eventually. That she was just waiting until the day I showed up on her door.
What was supposed to be an hour long massage dragged out for over two. I didn’t leave her office until just before 5. My entire right side was sore, but not in the way it had been. The pain had been replaced with a bruised and worked out feeling. Like what one might experience after a long, hard workout. Not unhealthy in any way. A strong feeling if anything.
Throughout our session, the healer talked to me about what she knew about endometriosis. She said she had actually suffered from it during her mid to late teens. She too had tried all that western medicine had to offer before her mother finally took her to a local doctor who had more of an interest in natural healing. He had exposed her to colonics and weekly injections of vitamins directly into her uterus.
This doctor now apparently practices in Mexico, as his methods were not widely accepted here in the states.
But she claims that he healed her. That his methods provided her relief. And that endometriosis has not been a worry of hers in a very long time.
She now has 6 year old twins. Conceived completely naturally.
After she too had been told at the height of her disease that a hysterectomy would be her only option.
I have to admit that there was a skeptical part of me questioning all of this. Could she really have had endometriosis? Could it really have been so bad if she is now completely healed? Could it even have come close to being as extreme as my case?
But as she spoke, more and more of what she said started to sink into me. She asked if I ever get sick, and I happily confessed that “no”, I never get sick. It’s something I’m quite proud of actually. With the exception of endometriosis, I am completely healthy. I don’t get colds, or contract the flu. Any issues I ever do have can almost always be related back to endo. I can’t even remember the last time I really needed antibiotics for anything. I don’t have a regular doctor here in Alaska. And before I moved here, I fared quite well without insurance for years.
I don’t get sick. No matter what I’m exposed to, I don’t get sick. I have an incredible immune system. I always thought that was a good thing.
But according to the healer – it’s the crux of the problem. My immune system is too good. My white blood cells are too dominant. And endometriosis, as it turns out, is a disease related to overactive immune systems.
I had heard this before actually. Read about it in relation to other diseases as well. I knew that an overactive immune system could also be related to miscarriages. Or even more pointedly – to embryos never sticking in the first place.
To my embryos being attacked by my body before they ever even had a chance.
I had heard this all before to some extent or another, so her words didn’t entirely catch me off guard. But her explanations suddenly helped to paint a clearer picture for me. Helped me to see why an overactive immune system could be a bad thing.
All along I've been saying that there was something else going on here. That doctor's were treating my symptoms without ever getting to the root of the disease. Even when my hormones have been regulated and I've done everything I've been told, the disease has continued to spread. Continued to baffle everyone involved in my case.
All along, I've been saying there was something we were missing. What if this is it?
She said she could tell right away by my hands. By the way the skin on my hands appeared. Which was funny, because I’ve commented before on the fact that I have my mother’s hands. My mother, who had a hysterectomy herself as a result of endometriosis.
But apparently, people with overactive immune systems have more youthful skin than others do. I guess the skin can be a tell-tale sign. If someone had described this to me before as being a symptom of having an immune system that was too strong though, I'm not sure I would have seen it as a bad ailment to have. Never getting sick? More youthful skin? How can any of this be a bad thing?
Only once in the past has my immune system been brought up to me as a negative. It was when I had Lasik surgery done. Over 4 years ago now. I had gone in for the initial surgery and was at my follow up a few days later when I was told that I was healing too quickly. My eyes had flooded with white blood cells as a result of my overactive immune system. The doctor informed me that typically having such a strong immune system was a good thing, but that in this case – my body was attacking itself. Or more specifically; my eyes. He had to schedule me for another surgery the following day. They lifted the original flap over my eye and washed the entire area out with some substance meant to destroy the white blood cells. They then watched me carefully until the healing process was completed; doing whatever they could to ensure that my eyes healed at the pace the doctor's dictated, rather than at the pace my body demanded.
So, I’ve heard about my overactive immune system before. Even heard of ways in which it can be detrimental. Which is why nothing that the healer said to me seemed so entirely farfetched. Why I found myself hanging on to her every word, even as I began to wonder how one begins to combat their own body from fighting too hard.
She said it isn’t easy. That balancing out an immune system can actually lead to sickness. To feeling weak and beaten down for a while. After functioning at a certain level for so long, suddenly being vulnerable to the same illnesses that typically attack others can be trying.
But she explained that achieving balance within the body was the most important thing. And that eventually, once that balance was achieved, real health and in my case – relief from the constant threat of endo – can be accomplished.
Which is when she started to give me directions. Orders to take my focus away from endometriosis (something I know I have a tendency to dwell and even obsess over) and to start instead focusing on my immune system. Visualizing my body filled with just as many white blood cells as red. A partner for each. Soldiers having to fight side by side. Neither army being more abundant than the other.
Endometriosis is a symptom of my immune system. And if this is true – all along I’ve been treating the symptom instead of the disease; while protesting against doctor's doing just that.
She instructed me to start partaking in regular colonics. Something I’m admittedly not so sure about. I don’t even know who I would go to in order to accomplish something like that. Or whether or not it’s something that would be covered by insurance.
But I’ll start doing research tomorrow.
After that ultrasound I’ve had scheduled for the last 6 weeks.
The one that should tell me where things stand in relation to where they were less than two months ago.
I'm not sure what I'll want to do with those results now though.
The healer told me that no matter what is there, it can be fought naturally. It can be combated through sheer power of will and the embracing of methods I may not have previously considered.
She started with a mantra. A mantra she spoke to me as she worked to get certain energies out of my body.
I am strong. I am healthy. I am whole.
A mantra she asked me to start repeating to myself every morning, while also focusing on certain pressure points throughout the body.
I am strong. I am healthy. I am whole.
She said she saw me with children. Both adopted, and born naturally.
She said she saw this future for me when she laid her hands upon my body.
And more than anything, I wanted to believe her.
But even though so much of what she said made sense to me, there is a part of me that is still skeptical. Still cynical. Still wondering if it could really all come down to something as simple as my immune system.
The colonics. The douches of frankincense and coconut oil she wants me to begin partaking in. The mantra. The daily pressure points. The mental focus on depleting my own white blood cells.
Could it all really come down to that? Could this really be the key?
Or am I crazy to even be considering it?
How far would you go? How deep into the realm of natural treatments would you wander? What risks with your own health would you take in order to give something completely new a chance to work?
I am strong. I am healthy. I am whole.
But am I really willing to put all my faith into a healer?
Even though there is a part of my brain completely blocked off to the probability of any of this working at all?
Can the part of me that wants to believe win out?
Or is this one of those times when the cynic in me may actually be in the right?
Still… It was the best massage I have ever had.
I am strong. I am healthy. I am whole.
Now, what will it take until I start to believe that?
ADSPACE
