{"id":3053,"date":"2023-03-11T14:02:51","date_gmt":"2023-03-11T19:02:51","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/deborahblackwell.com\/?p=3053"},"modified":"2023-03-13T13:01:52","modified_gmt":"2023-03-13T17:01:52","slug":"eastern-medicine-kicked-my-western-a","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/deborahblackwell.com\/?p=3053","title":{"rendered":"Eastern Medicine Kicked My Western A**"},"content":{"rendered":"
<\/p>\n

By Deborah Blackwell<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

After nearly three years battling a debilitating disorder called POTS, that derails my daily existence and optimism, I braved up and went to Chinatown to see a bona fide traditional Chinese medicine doctor.<\/p>\n

It took some convincing for Sir Husband, who with loving support, has watched me try everything to fix this fiasco brought on by a few delicious, salmonella-ridden peaches. There\u2019s no cure for POTS, it\u2019s trial and error, and I\u2019ve tried it all. Traditional, nontraditional, integrative, Eastern, Western medicine, you name it. Nothing works. So, he\u2019s a little protective.\u00a0<\/p>\n

It was actually my integrative medicine practitioner, also Chinese, who, after two long years of her hands-on osteopathic treatments, decided I needed to see this healer in Chinatown. She was sure his help would be life-changing.\u00a0<\/p>\n

And it was. But not for me. Let me share an ancient Chinese secret: Irony reveals truth.\u00a0<\/p>\n

On a recent Sunday afternoon, when Sir Husband was finally convinced I had nothing more to lose, we ventured into the gridlocked, buzzing, chaotic, aromatic, filthy, fascinating little city within our city. Parking was next to impossible, and if it wasn\u2019t for my pursuit of a cure-all and the aroma of simmering pork, soy sauce, ginger, and onion, we would have given up.<\/p>\n

The shop where our hope resided was crammed floor-to-ceiling with boxes; barrels; and bags of herbs, spices, and teas; tinctures; balms; pills; creams; bones; fungi; beauty supplies; beads; jade; jewelry; statues; tea sets; bells; porcelain; and one middle-age, dark-haired Chinese woman sitting on a stool, reading a Chinese newspaper, behind a glass counter filled with disorganized, interesting stuff that probably had been there for a thousand years. She sort-of looked up.<\/p>\n

In too many words, I told her I\u2019d been referred for a consultation, needed help with my illness, etc. When I noticed her blank stare, I stopped talking.\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s not here,\u201d she said.\u00a0<\/p>\n

Sir Husband looked deflated. They don\u2019t make appointments. You go when it\u2019s open, you wait if it\u2019s crowded, you see the doctor, you leave with miracle medicine. But the doctor wasn\u2019t there. Oh no.<\/p>\n

\u201cWait a minute,\u201d she said, picked up her cell phone, and made a call. She was speaking Chinese, so I didn\u2019t understand a word, but when she hung up, she waved me to a nearby chair. I was in luck. \u201cFifteen minutes,\u201d she said.\u00a0<\/p>\n

I sat down and Sir Husband poked around the store. People came in and out, spoke to the woman in Chinese, and went about their business. A tall, slender, dark-haired, middle-aged man came in, made eye contact, and directed me to a large table in the back. I knew he was my man. Then he saw Sir Husband.\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u201cHello! How are you?\u201d he said with cheerful broken English. \u201cYou have been in here before, I know you.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u201cHello!\u201d Sir Husband replied as he followed us both to the large table.\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know him?\u201d I whispered.\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t think so?\u201d he whispered back.\u00a0<\/p>\n

We sat side-by-side looking at the doctor, who seemed awfully laid back. He didn\u2019t say a word, but proceeded with my exam. He looked at my eyes, my tongue, inspected my hands, and felt my pulse for what seemed like forever. And then, low-key, but matter-of-factly, he said it.<\/p>\n

He told me my health age was 10 years older than my real age.\u00a0<\/p>\n

I was crushed. I know I\u2019m not well. But my body is 10 years older than me? Now what? I held back tears while he went to get something from a shelf in the corner. Two small boxes of tiny pills. I was to take eight, three times a day, and no, there were no side effects. In two months I would be transformed, and not just back to my actual age, the POTS would be much better.\u00a0<\/p>\n

But it wasn\u2019t me he was interested in. He seemed fixated on Sir Husband. \u201cYou want me to see you too?\u201d he said.\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u201cSure!\u201d my now-very-comfortable-with-this-whole-experience husband responded.<\/p>\n

I expected he would tell Sir Husband that he ate too many potato chips, didn\u2019t exercise enough, and was filled with stress from both from a busy job and a debilitated wife. That he would need to buckle down and take better care of himself. That we needed a vacation to the Cinque Terre. So, I sat there, watched, and waited as he performed the same exam.\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re very strong, healthy, and calm,\u201d the doctor said. He went on and on about Sir Husband\u2019s robust essence. His well-being, his vitality. No broken-English confusion here. I couldn\u2019t believe the compassion and warmth between these two strangers, who clearly knew each other from a previous lifetime.\u00a0<\/p>\n

It was like watching a movie that you\u2019re in, but as an extra, wondering what\u2019s going on. I am the one into Eastern medicine, not Sir Husband. I embrace the mind-body, spiritual, metaphysical, thoughts-become-things-healing-comes-from-within concept about how the body seeks balance in conjunction with the universe itself. About how I can shift my life-force energy, or qi<\/em>, and I will heal. I just needed a little help from a real Chinese medicine doctor.<\/p>\n

But thanks to POTS, my yin is so off from my yang that even after years of trying \u2013 and two short days of those tiny Chinese pills \u2013 I failed. And, in an ironic plot twist, Sir Husband, who is low-key about his health, is the rockstar.\u00a0<\/p>\n

We learned a lot from that experience in Chinatown. There\u2019s a lot more to life than meets the eye. Behind the scenes the body has all sorts of things going on. Confusing, commanding, life-altering things. Why it pushes my heart into overdrive, throws off my blood flow, circulation, vision, balance, breathing, and body temperature, derails my digestion, sleep, and apparently even my age, I don\u2019t know. Why it shared some things with a stranger, I\u2019m not sure.<\/p>\n

But the harder I try to fix it, the harder it gets to fix. So, there\u2019s only one thing I can do. Nothing. Stop trying to fix it. Or push it, prompt it, prod it, and control it, in desperate attempts to heal it. The body\u2019s got a plan of its own. While surrender isn\u2019t easy, and acceptance feels tough, one thing remains clear. Life always seems to resolve itself in the process of life itself. Irony and all.<\/p>\n

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