A Homeopathic Experiance

I went to see this doctor because he was good looking. And because he asked me to keep at least two hours free.

That I have a chronic health problem is a secondary matter. Chronic means you are by now used to it.

A doctor who has two hours to spare, who is young, and a Homeopath at that!

Any left brainer would say no way, don't waste your time.

But what is time for, if not for wasting?

If anyone has taken Frost seriously, it is me. I took the road less travelled. And this is what I found :

He actually takes me in without an appointment. The first ten minutes I detail my problem. Then I confess how I play doctor, how I mix and match Ayurveda with Naturopathy, Allopathy with common sense. But I have not yet struck the right combination, probably because I don't do Homeopathy.

He does not react. Instead, he asks me, 'What is the exact nature of your problem? Can you describe it?'

I do. As best as I can.

'Can you describe it more in detail?'

I describe again.

'Please don't mind, but I need to know. Can you describe your pain a little more?'

I take a deep breath. I am aware, now of the pain. I describe it in detail. I tell him how I distract myself. How I have learnt tricks to run away from my body. And how I miss it, the positive connection, the feel good factor, the being factor.

'When you feel good, how do you feel?' He changes the topic.

'I feel connected, to the world, to my body, to my breath,' I say.

'Can you describe it, this happy, connected feeling?'

'I can breathe deep, I feel a flow of energy, my thoughts slow down. When I am happy, I don't feel that I should do Yoga, or walk or exercise to feel alive. '

'Yes, how do you feel when you feel happy?'

'I feel like singing, I sing, I dance without music, I look at fresh vegetables in the market and I say thank you, earth... '

'Can you describe this feeling more ?' he asked.

'I cry, I weep tears of joy,' I tell him, I don't actually weep, though I am tempted to shed at least one tear.

'And how do you feel in your body when you are happy?' he asks yet again.

I am wordless, and I tell him so.

'That is very good. Now describe this feeling a little more, of being wordless.'

'Well, actually right now I am wordless because I am miserable that I am not happy. '

'Tell me more about this, this connected feeling.'

'Well, I can feel connected even when I am without words. ' I say.

'Yes, tell me about this.'

'Well, plants don't talk, but they are silent enjoyers and silent sufferers.'

'Oh, How?'

'Well, they suffer if you don't water them or if you pluck them.' I explain.

'And how do they enjoy?' For a change he is interested in my rambling.

'They look at the moon all night but they don't tell you about it.'

'So how do you feel when you feel this, this connection to plants?' I am beginning to wonder which one of is a moron.

'I feel good.' I say.

Pause.

'I feel that because I understand, I am also understood.' I continue.

'No, this is your mental reaction. Tell me how you feel in your body.'

'There is no tension, no effort to find the right words, their is a deep satisfaction. I feel rested and alert. '

'That is very good. Now we will discuss the opposite. Tell me when do you feel tense.'

'Well, I feel tense when I am criticised, when their is work pressure, or when I am in a hurry.'

'Take one instance. ' he says.

'Well, I can't handle criticism, even constructive criticism.'

'How do you feel when you are criticised?'

'I feel diminished.'

'Diminished? What do you mean, by diminished?' (You no understand English, doc? )

I make a gesture, in which I am squashing a balloon. 'Like this, diminished. Like all my energy, my enthusiasm goes phut.'

'Good. Now make that gesture again , and tell me how you feel, when you feel diminished.'

I smile. But I make that gesture again.

'Yes, tell me how you feel.' he says. I am beginning to respect this young doc.

'I feel, like I am pushed into a dark corner and I can't breathe. I don't have access to my mind, my logical faculties, and so I lash out in anger. Because anger is the only way I can tolerate what I feel. The only way I can survive the dark corner.'

'Anger is again a reaction. Tell me what happens in that dark corner, when you cant breathe.' He prods me further, to go into hell.

'In the dark corner, when I cant breathe, no actually I can breathe but I suppose I am not aware of my breathing. '

'This is your mental understanding. Tell me what happens in that dark corner.' he says.

'I don't feel connected to life. I feel like a stone. Separated from everything and everybody.'

'Yes.' he waits.

'Time stands still. I could be a ghost hanging on a tree for ages, who can see everything, but who cant communicate with anyone.
Can I share something, doctor?'

'Yes.'

'When I was talking of the happy moments, my pain had gone. And now it is back.'

'That is very good. We are getting near the answer.'

He pulls out a fat book, reads for a couple of minutes and finds the remedy.
'Take three pills, three times a day. Come back after three days. If this is the right medicine, it will cure the pain.'

As I go down the steps from his clinic, I make the gesture of squashing a balloon and laugh.

I don't know if this doctor will actually cure me. But is was such a delight to meet an artist in the disguise of a doctor.