When 3/4 Of A Mile Can't Be Measured

So the wheatgrass is growing. The sprouts are in the frig waiting for a yummy salad.

But today I wanted to write about going to a naturopathic MD.

He's older, wise enough to know he doesn't want to be a full-time GP for anyone but instead he sees people, many of whom have been dismissed by modern medicine. He lost his wife to conventional medicine about 12 years ago when she got cancer and at her graveside he buried the love of his life and his naive acceptance of all things conventional.

And then one day prostate cancer comes to stay. He did not go the same path. He instead learned many things about alternative approaches and chose a route all his peers names foolish and death...and on his lonely trail he arrested the development of his tumor, shrunk it somewhat and lives with it today. He lost many friends on this journey who could not bear that their god of medicine failed to provide a cure and even more so, this nemesis of the same "alternative medicine" and weak remedies like juice and raw foods could bring him back to health. And so he chooses to be more of a minister of health in his last days.

While I wait for him, I watch a very elderly couple go back to see him. Their skin is radiant, their eyes sparkle, the are quick to smile. Their soft, old hands know how to meet, automatically - gently - one into the other as the shuffle through the door. He is a gentlemen, he stops for her to go through first and she says "thank you dear" with a soft breathe that he most likely feels more than hears. He still treats her like a lady. She still says thank you. I feel the smile on my face. They have blessed me with their love commitment of being kind and respectful to one another. Loving each other long after the suppleness, sexiness, speed and energy have long fallen to the wayside. But they look so healthy and happy and full of love. They are most concerned to balance their load of home grown veggies that they are going to share with the Dr.

I am certain they will be the highlight of the Dr's day.

In the corner is a woman, no a man, no a woman...no, a soul. Head in hands resting on knees, resting on chair rungs, braced by a worn but comfy chair frame, resting finally in small rubber cups on the bottom of the chair legs...small rubber cups holding up the head of this dear white soul. White? White like the wisps of clouds. White like the ice you find in the bottom of your ice maker. I don't hear the name and still I don't know man or woman. As this soul stands, I look for something to say "I am a man" or "I am a woman"...The shirt is lose so I can't tell if this tired, thin frame has breasts. The clothes are clothes of comfort of the ill. Then I realize that in front of me is a reminder that we are bigger than our sex. Bigger than our job. Better than our doings and happenings and responsibilities. This soul is at his/her perfect beauty and essence. Hanging onto the edge-cliff of life and probably debating in an internal, constant stream of consciousness on the the value of hanging on versus letting go. Another soul given up by modern medicine I am certain and I know of so many who this Dr. has given some hope.

And then I am called. I wait about ten minutes in my examining room. I read the xeroxed copies on numerous notices taped to the wall. There is the information about the organic farm and their contact info. Another tells me that my doctor has elected to not pay malpractice insurance and goes on to explain his rights to chose so. He promises care for those who need it who can not pay. All the magazines are health related. Hippocrates, Hallelujah Acres, Prevention. No People or Automotive mags here.

And then the doctor comes in and we talk. He is doing well. His prostate cancer (stage 4 inoperable) hasn't changed in 7 years. He looks good. He's in his 70s. We talk about me. He wants me to have 4 glasses of green juice a day and four glasses of carrot juice a day and he put me on Betaine and Pepsin, probiotics and enzymes. He tells me to walk, be still and quiet every day, get in the sun 20 minutes a day and to take care of myself. He wants me to take my temp every single morning because he thinks that even though my blood test says my thyroid is fine, he wants to look at the temps. He tells me to eat raw, and eat one thing I really like each week without reservation except no dairy ever for any reason.

Then he wishes me well, tell me I'm going to feel great and he wants to see me in a couple of months, my choice. "It takes us a long to mess up our bodies, it'll take a lot less time, but some time to get better."

At the desk I am asked for $122. I think it's the appointment charge. It's not. It's the appointment and 3 bottles of high-end vitamins. I'm shocked.

It's only 3/4 mile and 4 days from where the cardiologist I was referred to wouldn't see me because I didn't have (to start with) $500. I left that office in shame and depression in tears and worried that I needed to see this cardiologist. In hindsight, I did not need him.

The offices may only be separated by 3/4 of a mile and 4 days but more truly they are separated by differences in dedication of concern for patients; compassion; and most importantly a difference in approach: one doc sees HIMSELF as the answer, the other doc sees HIMSELF as the conduit. One office would test me, and most likely give me pill(s) for my symptoms and have me come back to tell what to do next. The other office gave me tools to go and be responsible for myself, honoring the time and body my Creator has given me. I will go back for more education and direction in my continued studentness of my health.

I hold no animosity towards the cardiologist but I do wonder, one day, what will he say if prostate cancer comes to visit?