Smacked Upside the Head

First of all - I'm warning you. This may seem to some, like a post where I go way out there, you know, into La-La Land. So, if you're not interested or will think I've gone off the deep end if you read this one, I direct to my Sept. 29 post, "Mobley's Ticker Tape Parade" - it's fun, light, and totally of the material world.  

But, if you're up to join me in my wanderings through other places where the land between your feet may seem to shift ever so slightly, come on along!

This story starts two days ago at Kit's endocrinologist's office. To recap: she'd lost weight, too much weight over the spring and summer. Why? Good question. Possibly for no other reason than she's a fourteen year old girl living in a culture where food and weight are complicated issues. But still, when her body crashed in August, we needed to find out more. This resulted in an amazing amount of medical tests, almost all of which came back normal.

Fortunately, Kit quickly regained her strength, health, and is back in the normal range for weight. However, her thyroid and pituitary tests were low, and although these can be accounted for by the weight loss, of course, we followed up. Which was why we were back at the doctor's office.

I was sure Shimon, the physician assistant, would be happy to see the transformation in Kit since he'd last examined her exactly a month before. At that time she looked her absolute worst (sorry, Kit): she was rail thin then and had come directly from a sleepover, where, predictably, little sleeping had been done. The girls had been making a horror film (available on Youtube) in the middle of the night. Kit's character was supposed to fall through a doorway. Kit, doing more realism than acting, actually fell - onto a concrete floor. We learned that when you look like you can barely stand on your own and can barely keep your eyes open, that doctors are going to be very concerned about a gash on your chin - both Shimon and the doctor assumed she'd collapsed. Just a month later, Kit is ten pounds heavier, her color is back, and aside from a small scar, her chin is healed. Her blood test results are also pretty good and Shimon proclaimed that she doesn't have an endocrine problem. 

Of course, this was good news and I was ready to leave. It was too late for our usual after-doctor's appointment trip to Starbucks to get Kit a frappachino so she could return to school caffeine-crazed to the great entertainment of her friends (and annoyance of her teachers?), but still, we'd have time for some mother-daughter bonding before the boys got home. I was looking forward to it. Then Shimon went through a list of follow-ups that he and the doctor were suggesting, that could have made my hair curl (had it not already been so): GI series, uterine ultrasound, eating disorder evaluation.  

"Wait a second!" my brain screamed. I'm sitting here with a kid who's the picture of health! Yes, she was sick this summer - but she recovered quickly and hasn't been sick since. Aside from a few months, she's always been a wonderful eater - enjoying a wide variety of mostly healthy foods. She could have Crohn's Disease or an eating disorder that's in remission, warned Shimon. She could. She could also have.....well, I don't know or want to think about what else, but surely, my mind screamed, I'm not having her tested for all possibilities. And that's all these diseases were: possibilities.

I'm careful when it comes to my kids' health. Their pediatrician is careful and conservative, too, and I love her for that. But this time, my mind balked at further testing. I'd been in a great mood for days, feeling peaceful, blissful - my meditation practice was going well, I was back to doing Yoga postures, my writing was going well, I'd even mopped the floor. By the middle of the appointment, I felt myself being sucked down into a vortex of gloom. And there I stayed for the rest of the day, unable to tap into the joy I'd felt such a short time before. I was so jubilant earlier in the day, that I'd contemplated the wastefulness of dark moods - everything seemed so perfect that I was sure that this time, I could keep the feeling going.  Hah! 

On to yesterday (I apologize, this is a longer story than I'd realized). Yesterday was Rosh Hashanah and I'd agreed to take the kids to the synagogue for services. At this point in my life, I didn't really feel the need to be there for myself. Having a daily meditation and contemplation practice, I feel I tap into the idea of trying to be my best self on a daily basis now, and doing so once a year feels artificial. I'd rushed the kids and myself in the morning to be at the synagogue on time - last year we'd arrived late and sat downstairs where we watched the service over a television projection. I'd felt very cut-off from the actual service that was going on in the sanctuary upstairs. I felt like it was worth the rush to be upstairs in the beautiful, high ceilinged, airy worship space rather than downstairs watching a blurry screen in a dank, dark room.

As we sat through services, I struggled. First of all, I felt like I was being bombarded by germs. The rabbi had a cold, the friend I sat next to had a cold, and I felt like there were sick people all around me. (Harry later told me that the man sitting behind him coughed on his neck a few times.) I've been trying to follow Dr. Wayne W. Dyer's advise to not pay any heed to germs so as not to manifest illness and found I was struggling to do so. I struggled with the service: the music, which I usually love, sounded so low-vibrational. Again, following Wayne Dyer, I've been trying to up my vibrations to tap into higher frequencies, which are believed to be more creative and to help manifest what you want into your life. I have to admit, I have no idea what I'm doing and if I'm practicing this correctly. For all I know, those minor-key Jewish melodies may actually have very high frequencies, but they didn't feel that way to me. Being in the service, I felt like I was surrounded with exactly the opposite of what I need. And I struggled over whether or not to follow-up with any of the things that Shimon suggested. And whether I was a bad mother or not if I didn't. And whether people would think me irresponsible if I didn't. And whether I should be concerned with other's opinions of me. And knowing that to walk this path, I can't be.  I also struggled with the idea that I seemed unable to take anything from this morning, other than being a good chauffeur for the kids. Although there were some peaceful moments where I was able to relax into my thoughts and mantra, mostly I struggled. On and on and on it went, for two hours, until finally, it was time for Shay and me to help set up lunch. Thank God.

I felt more relaxed as soon as I left the service and went downstairs to the kitchen. I got busy putting bagels in baskets, seltzers on the table, and a bunch of other small tasks. We were done in a half hour, at which point I went to the dreaded downstairs temporary sanctuary to watch the service on the television screen - and found it was very pleasant! The sun had come out, and I had a good view into the courtyard where we'd set up the luncheon. The courtyard looked welcoming and peaceful. A cool breeze blew across me. There were not too many worshippers down here - we had elbow room - no one seemed to be oozing germs, and it felt relaxed and relaxing. I stayed to listen to the shofar, watched some small children leave with their parents, and decided I'd had enough. I also realized I was parched.

So back to the kitchen I went, grabbing some juice along the way. I was so thirsty, I kept filling and refilling my cup with water and drinking it down. I was shocked at how thirsty I was - I felt like I was trying to wash my insides clean with this need for water. Presently, another woman, a bit older than myself I'd guess, who'd helped set up the lunch came in. We started talking. She told me about her plans to renovate her kitchen and the other renovations she'd done on her house since moving in five years ago.  We chatted about this for quite a while. Then she mentioned that she's a physical therapist and works from home, and since she does she can work nights and weekends. I mentioned how nice that must be for her clients. And then she said that it is, but she finds it too tiring to do p.t. at night, so that's when she does her distance healing.

BAM!

Say what?

Distance healing?

Huh.

It was like I was smacked upside the head.

To keep a long story shorter than it could be, we talked about that. And the variety of healing work she does: cranial sacral therapy, energy mirrors and such. I'd been playing around with the idea of trying Reiki for a long time but had yet to act on it.  I now had a feeling that I'd now found a good person to try energy healing with and other types of healing to try.

So, why all the fuss about Kit at the beginning of this post?  Because she's going to go to Michelle, too, so that Michelle can balance her energies, too. As soon as Michelle suggested she could work on Kit, the dark mass that had been clouding my brain vanished. I knew then how I felt about all these medical procedures: that at this point all they could do was stress us out. I know Kit's healthy now: that's evident by the glow being back in her skin, her renewed energy, and yes, her appetite. Might she need some of those tests at some point in her life? Of course, she might. Anything is possible. Anything is always possible. But for now, I have a healthy kid here and I'm not going to pull her out of school and out of her life for unnecessary tests.

After talking to Michelle, I knew what I was doing at the synagogue yesterday. Meeting her. Opening up to another new experience. Finding an alternative for Kit.

Last take: we decided to skip the luncheon. I walked out of the synagogue and saw, walking down the sidewalk, Rachelle, a member of the congregation whom I had last seen at the Albany airport the day we flew to Vancouver. Waiting for our plane, I'd shown Rachelle photos of Kit's shoes. I'd since forgotten. She saw me and said, "You're just who I was looking for?" "I am?" I replied. "I want Kit to decorate my shoes," she said, "They're in my car." Just the day before I'd realized that for the first time in months, Kit had no shoe commissions to work on. She does now. So, I guess I was really at the synagogue for two purposes: to meet Michelle and to help Kit get a commission from Rachelle!