Why Your Doctor Is Always Late by Sanaz Majd. A Primary Care Physician gave a detailed explanation of why she runs late on a daily basis despite her abhorrence of being late or kept waiting. It’s a hard pill to swallow. Solutions to this age-old problem are elusive. Trip down memory lane for me. Accurate … lame none-the-less. I have compassion for all involved. What an interesting web we have all spun. Doctors are so busy with their systems, they are overwhelmed themselves. I noted that the way we (I was one of them then) do things, we hardly had time for actual sick people. They really screw up your schedule, you know? My most dramatic incident was when I arrived early to the office to find a middle aged woman sitting in the hallway outside my office on the floor, leaning her back on the entry door. Clearly, she was unwell. Could not even stand up. Yet by some Miracle drove herself to my Office which was across the street from the Hospital. Instead of turning left, she turned right. Denial. By going to the Doctor’s office, the heart racing at 220 beats per minute was less serious somehow.
At the time, I lacked experience. Odds were in her favor. I was unsure of that at the time. I stood back incredulously while I reviewed my options of transporting her to the hospital. Send her walking across the street? She was alone. Send her driving across the street? Drive her myself? I ended on, call an Ambulance. I will always laugh at that one. Not feeling so McGyver’ish that day. My fear-based mentality could see her dropping dead (a) in the middle of street, (b) in her vehicle and getting into a collision, (c) in my passenger seat. So instead we waited over 15 minutes in my office and the Emergency Medical Technicians drove her across the street in an Ambulance. All I could see was a lawsuit waiting to happen. I played it safe. Why pay less when you can pay more? Was unsure if the patient would receive a bill for that or not. Yes, she did. My history.
I allude to some solutions to the overwhelmed caregiver in my story Wrap It Up. Empower people to activate their own self-healing mechanisms. Then the caregivers won’t be so overwhelmed. Many hands make light work, so to speak. It was more close to home in that story but applies to the larger world also. I feel like I have ruined the movie now, telling you the ending. I chuckle. You might think I am joking. I am not.
The former article includes the issue of Patient’s financial situation influencing the Medical Visit as I had written about in the story Never Say Never where healthcare went sideways when my patient, being prudent and hardworking, wanted each and every health concern her imagination could dream up to be handled all at once at the Sacred Doctor’s Appointment. Joking BTW. In that case, the Doctor was me. All the concerns addressed? Not a one. Arguing over how her Health Insurance worked took up all of the time for the appointment … which I did not bill for as it did not seem ethical. I am nothing if not overflowing with integrity … at my own peril sometimes. The complaint to the College of Physicians and Surgeons still came as a slight surprise. Basically, her complaint acted as a venting mechanism for her. It was noted on my record. Lovely. That is how the world works, people. Are we having fun yet? My Dad, being the wise guy that he is, always used to say that. Still does. Awesome question to ask ourselves. It is very catchy…
Belly Button Song by Boys in the Sink (Veggie Tales Children’s show) is a lot of fun. Depicts a Doctor/Patient visit where the payment method comes into the treatment … Ha ha. Love the initial banter as it echoes my own views. Food for thought for us all.
Jimmy Gourd: Yeah! We’re artists!
Junior Asparagus: Word up!
(Pause for Photo Op.)
Larry the Cucumber: There’s a time to be silly(!) … and there’s a time to be serious.
Mr. Lunt: A time to open up your heart …
Jimmy Gourd: … and show how you feel. (Another Photo Op.) Artistically!!
Mr. Lunt: ‘Cuz we all have something to share.
So much respect to the creative team of the Veggie Tales show … especially the Silly Songs. More to come in this story.
I have heard myself say that my Medical Degree was like a Monkey on My Back. I had no idea how right I was about that. Guessing at when I said it first. Prior to 1997, the year my first child was born. It started in the context that because I was a Doctor, I received no support for choosing to stay home with my kids. One kid, at first. Do the children of Doctors need their parents any less, I asked? By then, I was pretty disillusioned about Medicine. I was not helping in the way my child-like dreams might have imagined. I was aware of so many systemic faults, it was daunting to continue in the field with or without children. Sharing with others, I could sense that I was more sensitive to these idiosyncrasies than most of my colleagues. Mortgages and lifestyle enslaved them into the system. The difference between myself and them: I took on a wee tiny mortgage for a short while and I married an Ophthalmologist whose income made my own feel like an insult. For the amount of stress I would take on, it was definitely not worth it. I could live on minimal money. I was wealthy … by design. Never got into the keep up with the Jones’ stuff. Ironically, the Jones’ would have been challenged to keep up with me, the way things turned out. Material wealth was not my forefront or my inspiration in making decisions. It came my way anyway. Just took one tiny step in front of one tiny step. Financial freedom … perhaps at the hands of my enslaved husband. Truth to that statement. He seemed to like it in the cage. I would fight for his freedom harder than he would. His choices are his own to make. Big lesson for me was to stop interfering with his choices. And expect the same from him towards me. That was where conscious uncoupling came in. Divorce in the old school terminology.
So many of my repeated sayings take on deeper meaning with time. When I finally retired from Medicine completely in 2003 (minimal work after 1997 – believe me), that Monkey felt like an Orangutan. Enough already. Would I have been better off never going to Medical School? I have always felt No to this question. Medical School itself was a multidimensional education for me. I picked up a lot intuitively from my interactions with patients. I could not be who I am without all of those experiences.
Dehumanizing experiences help us to understand what it is to be human.
When we feel ourselves veered off the track, we learn to navigate back onto the true path. To live authentically as we are inspired to. Let us trust every last inspiration, no matter what challenges they may bring. Rainbows and unicorns would not make a very interesting life. Been there. Tried it on. Locked up in a Mental Institution with that mindset. Here I am. A more grounded, sovereign version of myself. The story I am sticking with.
I Love My Lips Silly Song with Larry from Veggie Tales. A comical look at a Psychiatrist/Patient encounter. I see myself in both the Doctor and the Patient.
Such blind method, applied blindly to us, is liable to destroy us in practice, as it has done already in theory. From an article Mal-Practice of Psychiatry by Paul Levy. Many excerpts italicized and sprinkled amongst my own words below:
…my perceptions about the nature of my own experience were deleted from having any validity, as if I was being treated as a mental “in-valid” (which was truly “crazy-making”). I felt both objectified and marginalized in my own treatment.
In consulting their hallowed diagnostic manual, the DSM, it was as if the psychiatrist’s were reading from a grimoire, trying to match what little they understood of my experience to something somebody else wrote in a book; it was truly insane.
When I was diagnosed, I was downgraded from having full existential status as a sovereign human being, as I was no longer considered to be the arbiter of my own experience or rightful possessor of my own image or definition of myself. Once I received my diagnosis, as if my condition was being etched in stone, everything I said or did from that moment on was seen through the stultifying lens of my diagnosis.
When I was given a written-in-stone diagnosis by psychiatrists who had a complete certainty in what they thought was happening within me but actually had less than no idea, it did feel like “a veritable murder of the soul.” The shadow side of diagnosis is that it is the outcome of staring at phenomena with the “objective look,” that “ethically blank, heartless scientific gaze,” as late psychiatrist R. D. Laing calls it; a gaze which “does not see or hear us.”
…Dr. Allen Frances, who has been called “perhaps the most powerful psychiatrist in America” and who in 1994 headed the project to write the latest edition of the psychiatric bible, the DSM-IV, recently blew the whistle on his own profession. In an interview with Gary Greenberg from Wired Magazine, Frances says “There is no definition of a mental disorder. It’s bullshit, I mean you just can’t define it.” Modern day diagnosis of psychiatric disorders is like those medieval maps that dealt with places in which they didn’t know what was going on by writing “Dragons Live Here.” The modern-day “dragons” are all of the various psychiatric diagnoses concocted so as to fill in the blanks for what we don’t know.
As a Medical Student, I kinda noticed … Imagine that! People, can we screw our brains back in please. Don’t forget the connection to the heart though. One does not know what one does not know. Do you believe in Dragons? If you have never seen one, I would not expect you to. If someone else claims to have seen one, what is it to you?? Experience is the very, very best teacher.
I was being given a life sentence with no possibility for parole, with no time off for good behavior (It should be noted that I haven’t taken any psychiatric medication for over thirty years, with no “episodes,” which, from the psychiatric point of view, is impossible if I truly had what is now called bi-polar illness).
Well will you look at that. Imagine my surprise (tongue in cheek) to find another Bipolar Disorder labeled Human Soul who figured out the ruse, stopped the meds and lived happily ever after for 30 years!! Why did I not learn that in Medical School?? An exception to every rule? Who knows. Curriculum, in all forms of education, is selected not at random, by somebody. Those particular somebody’s hold a lot more power than the rest of us poor sots. Bottom line is we need to be very careful about what we know and don’t know. Bias is hard to avoid, no matter what the intention. It is far more empowering and ethical to say I don’t know. We might have been better served to err on the side of caution in this case (Psychiatry as a whole). My experience knows this. Not to say it is true for everyone with the same label … but. Do you really know?
When we ask the optimal questions, we get the optimal answers. How do we know if we are asking the right questions? I have developed an hypothesis, a method, for this. Would love to try it out in the field. The method is adapted from the method described in the Power Versus Force book by David Hawkins. They used muscle testing to determine the vibrational level that a question resonated with. I use the pendulum and my connection to my muse or higher self. Truly it does not matter which words I choose to describe it. I am the instrument. It has taken me a while to figure out all I can do. My guess is many others could also do it. As long as they believe they could and have the intention of developing the skill. Then you push the easy button. I have heard it called living in the 5th Dimension. The same world as the 3rd Dimension, just everything flows with ease and grace. You experience more joy and appreciation. Love is a given. You are vibrating at a different level of vibration: An approachable way to describe it. More accurately, you are emitting a different energetic vibration. Your experience, your reality will be different as a result.
The fact that I wanted to dialogue about this and question their diagnosis not only made them angry, but was proof, to the psychiatrists in charge of me, of my alleged illness. The psychiatrists hoped to one day make me “a functioning member of society;” I, on the other hand, was hoping to make psychiatry a functioning member of society, not one day in the future, but right now. Psychiatry didn’t just want to give me a diagnosis, it wanted to inaugurate me into a whole new “career” as mental patient.
Cannot leave the article alone. My excitement at finding someone saying the same as I said after my Diagnosis is beyond words. Even my Medical Degree was null and void. The Sacred Medical Degree, the Monkey On My Back, gave me confidence in my own experience. I knew from the inside what a Medical Education looks like. It ain’t pretty, sad to report. Dehumanizing is a word that comes to mind. Many people think of Doctors like all knowing Gods. I, on the other hand, had a different perspective. Quite reassuring when I found myself locked up in a Psychiatric Hospital against my will. Anything I said was surely used against me. With less rights than a prisoner, there was no phone call that had any hope of delivering me to Freedom. Until they (the Psychiatrists) said so. I was learning that I had all the time in the world. Mindfulness came in handy. Suffering … in this case, optional. My captors were benevolent. Grateful for that.
Think about the fact that any questioning of the diagnosis is part and parcel proof of the diagnosis. Patients lack insight into their own condition. Seems only a God could make such a bold declaration. The dog will chase his tail forever. It is a loop that one can never get out of with that so-called fact cemented into place. One man’s fact is another man’s fiction. Are we having fun yet?
As I enjoyed my 30 day stay at the Relaxation Spa (also known as the Psychiatric Hospital), I marveled at the perfection in this steadfast belief. Smart little Angèle as a Medical Student noticed this instantly way back when … in the olden days. I am/was so clever. Pat, pat … I was patting myself on the back. While I made the best of it at the Spa/Prison. One woman’s Spa is another woman’s Prison. Ha ha. Enjoyed having all my meals prepared for me. Took a daily bath. Loved myself. Enjoyed the Art class on Wednesdays. Yoga on Thursdays. You get the point.
Psychiatrists are trained to pathologize. OK, now you see I am writing this story as I am reading the article. This is Reel Life people.
Psychiatrists are trained to pathologize; once I was diagnosed and labeled with a mental illness, my behavior was myopically viewed through the lens of pathology, which only served to draw out the pathological aspect of my process, further confirming to the psychiatrists the correctness of their diagnosis in a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Whoops! Did I repeat myself there? Do not get me wrong. I solemnly believe that Psychiatrists’ intentions are good. Good looks different from different perspectives. They believe themselves wholeheartedly. It does not mean that I have to.
The Yodeling Veterinarian Of the Alps Yet another Silly Song from Veggie Tales. Mandatory to watch all these as part of the story. I firmly believe that often things work for reasons we do not fully understand. Be careful not to congratulate yourself too much when things go well … or punish too much when things go sideways. Hint: Trade that nurse character in for yourself and see how your own Health Care looks in your eyes now. It is what most people are doing these days anyway with their Doctors. I remember how shocked I was when I first noticed shortly after beginning my practice. Hence: the oft repeated spitting into the wind phrase to describe my Medical Work. In Psychiatry it is ten times more so. Yet another example of how Comedians have a special gift of reflecting us back to ourselves … and remaining alive in the process. A finely tuned practice.
The psychiatrists were like the high priests of a modern, scientific religion who had invested in them by the power of the state the ability to deem who was sane and to “doom” who was insane. By unconsciously identifying with their positions of power, rank and privilege, they were monopolizing the role of the healthy one, unwittingly “casting” the patient—in this case me—into the solidified role of the one who is sick. The psychiatric system was under a self-created and self-reinforcing delusion (is there a pharmaceutical for this?), as it was simultaneously casting a spell both on itself as well as its patients. The psychiatric system’s mal-practice is harder to see than in other, more concrete fields, and hence the incompetence and harm often go unrecognized, as they are operating in the province of the psyche, where much is hidden, shrouded in both mystery and misunderstanding to begin with.
I have a fondness for the Scooby Doo ending. Take mask off Psychiatrist … HERE. I have great compassion for the Psychiatrists. Have no fear. When you know better, you do better. Bright beautiful future awaits us all!
Remove mask off of Pharmaceutical Companies immediately following the Psychiatrists. Yet another Scooby Doo ending – not nearly as surprising or satisfying but let us remove the mask at least.
I had no legitimacy in their eyes regarding my own experience, as if I had no psychological title to my own experience, which was truly “crazy-making” beyond anything I had ever imagined, even in my wildest dreams. The whole thing was so sci-fi—like a bad horror movie—it was beyond belief, and yet it was actually happening.
Crazy-making indeed. My words.
…I was being “certified” in a different way. Little did I realize at the time that my forays into psychiatry were “field work” in which I was gathering data so as to prepare me for my future life’s work.
Echo those sentiments.
…As is typical when something is long-held down and suppressed, there can be an over-compensation in one direction until “the shoot” sprouting out of the germinating seed of the personality naturally gets in balance over time. Typically, the person who is waking up can become quite “enthusiastic” (“en-theos” means to be filled with spirit) about the “good news” they are realizing … , which can easily be interpreted as being a form of “mania.”
Been there. Done that. I call it the Beautiful Truth. It is good news, indeed.
Do I feel bad that this story has so many of another writer’s words in it? Not really. Displaying how really glad I am to see these words written by another. See! I am not the only one. You know how validating that can feel, right? Not that I truly need it. My own experience is the best teacher. Others without the experience might be more inclined to open up to the alternate perspective when it has independently come from two separate sources, No?? Science loves to see its findings duplicated. If it cannot be duplicated, it is considered weak Science. Many scientists may choose to not even share their findings in the disappointment of not finding the results they were hoping for. I take great comfort in hearing a similar perspective to my own with similar experience. He has found some analogies that I have not. He has echoed some of my own thoughts. His take was a little different but not far off from mine. I honor it. I know how hard it is to tell a story like this. I chose to pick out the parts that most resonated with me.
His article is long. I am ready to post it to my Manic Ministrations Facebook Page. Seems prudent for me to finish reading it. Would not be the first time to post before even reading a word. That is how much I have come to trust my inner knowing. Will post the article now. Then finish reading it.
As I scrolled down, I noted Paul Levy’s self description as a Wounded Healer. I have heard the term many times before. While being interviewed for the film Crazywise, I was asked if I was a Wounded Healer. Yes, by definition, I guess I am. I took a moment to review this term. It felt uncomfortable to admit to that label. Is there an upgrade? Yes, I am told by my Muse. I call him Peter. Tell, tell. I often use this phrase as my next question in a case like this. Answer: Self-actualizing Human Being. Anyone is capable of this? My sense is yes. We all have an innate Self-Healing Mechanism. We just have to lift the rock off of the tiny, tender shoot – using the Beautiful Analogy from Paul Levy’s article. It will spring into action on your behalf. Next question: is there an even higher upgrade? Yes. I did not get the answer to that question. It will come when and if it serves my highest good. I sit pleasantly with the uncertainty. My understanding leaves me feeling fantastic. Taking in too much too soon can be detrimental to your well-being. I speak from experience.
It’s About Time. All the Time in the World.
No need at all to Rush. That is so Old School.
Back to Paul Levy’s words: Once my spiritual awakening became ignited, I have no doubt whatsoever that all I needed was a number of months, maybe even a year, to have a safe container, supported by friends, family and mentors to help me to integrate what was being revealed to me. Instead of being pathologized, medicated and all the rest, which simply aborted a deeper process that was emerging, all I needed was to have my process held in a certain way so that it could creatively unfold itself and be naturally metabolized and assimilated.
I recall so vividly feeling convinced the hospital did more harm than good. During both of my involuntary stays. I voiced my opinion that after my trial of discontinuing the Lithium, if I should display the manic behavior as before, that time I could lightly medicate and rest at home. History played out, I still needed the Lithium. Hello second stay. Who called the Doctor? (My former husband). Being that we share children, it was hard to hide when something was amiss. All part of the plan apparently. Method to the madness. Even my two closest spiritual friends were alarmed by my Mania. Truth came out much later that they sold me out … so to speak. Love to be dramatic. It’s All Fun And Games: the story inspired by second incarceration. A sad one for me, by chance. Perhaps always part of the plan. I always thought it was the Doctor alone who sold me out. Really does not matter. Just another Scooby Doo ending to this Movie that is my Life. Definitely no hard feelings. Just a reminder of what I was up against. Healing myself … and fast was the most efficacious (fancy Doctor word, ha ha) plan of attack. Just watch me!! I do not have to talk anyone into anything. The alternative is … shall we say inspiring me to succeed. Motivation comes in many forms. Sometimes the carrot, sometimes the stick. Hence, my even deeper love of the shortcut method. Just sayin’ …
The Hairbrush Song by Larry The Cucumber. Another Veggie Tales classic. Genius how they capture the drama of looking for a hairbrush when Larry does not even have any hair. Where is my hairbrush? Perhaps he needs to change his question. A fun little example of how life can get off track when you are asking the sub-optimal question.
When I find something that resonates as healing, I will often ask. Is there a shortcut? I have always heard a yes so far. BUT if you don’t ask and want to carry the torch that believes anything good must be hard and take a long time, probably painful complete with suffering. The choice is always yours. It is my firm belief that this belief system template – that good things take a long time and a lot of effort etc. – limits our ability to thrive. Limits all of us to thrive. The other belief is that if I get a lot of good coming my way it will take away from others. Also untrue in my world. Just wanted to show you a couple of examples of how we, as a collective, commonly use our power. Our beliefs create our world. In every moment, we have the choice to make a new choice. Make a change. Drop a belief. Too good to be true? (So Old School).
In my world upgrades to: It is Good. And … It is True.
It takes an exceptional practitioner of the art of psychiatry, a true doctor of the soul, to see through the implicit materialist in-doctrine-ation they have received as part and parcel of their very conditioning and training.
I. Am. That. Doctor. You know how I love the theatrics. Reminds me of Larry Boy. He is a vegetable version of Batman known to say I. Am. That. Hero. Inspired my little proclamation.
Larry Boy Music Video performed by Shux. Yes, they are Korn! So clever. At least watch the last seconds where he says the line above. So you will have the context of the quote.
Larry Boy and The Fib From Outer Space. I own this one on VHS! Ha ha. I am a huge fan of Veggie Tales. Larry Boy is a spin off. The Fib gets more and more powerful as Junior Asparagus continues to tell an escalating story … a lie. When someone tells an untruth about you, one tends to get a bit passionate as Junior’s friends did.
My passion for Children’s Entertainment lives on.
While losing at Candyland, Larry Boy dramatically heralded, “I’ve got work to do. Consider our game … postponed!” He has to go and save Bumblyburg from the ginormous Fib – wreaked havoc by this time. A lot of guesswork. Nobody knows what they are doing. A total guess to hit the yellow button … happened to be the correct button to turn the wheeled vehicle into a rocket-like one. Alfred (the brilliant assistant to the hero) reassures Larry that we know what the monster is. It is “a Lie”. How do we stop it? Asks Larry. We do not know that yet. Answered Alfred. Much consultation with his computer brings the audience to the crunch moment when Larry is about to be eaten by the Fib … and in his excitement, Alfred accidentally unplugs the computer. The delay to the answer: Junior must tell the truth about the Lie, nearly costs our hero his life. Hilarious.
When we consider the Psychiatric System (not the well-intentioned people indoctrinated to keep it running), I fear many heros have already gone down. Eaten up by the lie described by my fellow Bipolar Disorder labeled colleague, Paul Levy. I understand how it was done. I trained shoulder to shoulder with Psychiatrists. I get it. I encourage us all to have great compassion. Forgive them, they know not what they do. Within psychiatry, there is a mélange of patients. Some are violent. Acting from their level of Consciousness – referring to the scale, see Table, taken from the Power Versus Force book by David Hawkins. To begin this process I found myself in, manic episode, from a lower vibrational starting point. Gets dangerous. Anger is played out in violence. I was resonating near Love and Joy. ‘Nuff said. To act overly rashly may not be in anyone’s best interests. I hypothesize that when we understand the process better, we will safely support both the person in crisis and those that care for them much better than we do at present. Both need it gravely. Pardon the pun. Note the date I write this: February 2, 2015. Likely this reality of a broken (my opinion) system will not remain true. How long? Anyone’s guess. The will of the Powers that Be appear to hold all the cards at the moment. If I could choose the impact of my stories it is at least this:
Let us be aware that we may not know what is going on. But …
We will Figure it Out. I Know that We Can. And it is Easy.
I have developed a lot of ideas. Willing to share. Releasing the tight grip of righteousness on the current common understanding within Psychiatric Care is the first step. Baby steps. Let’s Do This … in my 14 year old son’s words.
Wrote almost entirely on February 2, 2015, the day inspiration hit with the 2 articles coming to my attention on the same day. I originally put the second article under another title, Auto Pilot. Did not take long to recognize that it belonged here. My work is like a fancy spreadsheet. I just arrange things I find into rows and columns … so to speak. It is not often that I switch rows but this time I did. There was a good argument for the Auto Pilot. Who is driving this system anyway?
Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood by Sally Barker. It is a blind audition from The Voice UK 2014. The idea to end this story with a version of this song popped into my head when I felt it was complete. Despite the fact that I first found this You Tube link the week prior, I searched down a long list passing by several more famous performers. It was not until I heard it that I remembered hearing it before. But this time … I sobbed. Just over a minute. Pema Chodron’s rule proves true again (no emotion felt fully lasts longer than 90 seconds). The lyrics sung as soulfully as Sally sings them hit such a deep wound within me. Tears flowed and flowed. The Soulful Tears. The Healing Tears. The Beautiful Tears.
The Doctor cries. The Patient cries. The Lover Cries. The Mother Cries. The Daughter Cries. The Sister Cries. The Friend Cries. The Ex-Wife Cries. The Medical Student Cries. The Education Advocate Cries. The Political Activist Cries. The Spiritual Seeker Cries. My Little 5 year old Self Cries. The Writer Cries. The Artist Cries. The Comedian cries. The Scientist Cries. The Ex-Catholic cries. The Physics, of Consciousness, Professor Cries. Even the God cries. Especially the God. We Are All In This Together.
Lyrics that have moved mountains of emotions within me:
Maybe … You Understand Me Now.
Sometimes you see I’m mad.
When things go wrong. You see me bad.
I’m just a Soul who’s intentions are good.
Oh Lord, please don’t let me be misunderstood.
Sometimes, I’m so carefree with a joy that’s hard to hide.
Sometimes, all I have is worry.
And you’re bound to see my other side.
I’m just a Soul whose intentions are good.
Oh Lord, please don’t let me be misunderstood.
Oh but I’m a Soul whose Intentions are Good.
Immediately after hearing the song this time round, and after the initial sob, came the words:
There has never been a more fervent Prayer ever to release from my lips than the final line of the lyrics. I pray with all of my Heart, Mind and Soul. The upgraded version:
Please … Let Me Be Understood.
Get the Fucking. Monkey. Off. My. Back. She asked politely in no uncertain words…
Music … is the Doctor.
One thing you can be sure of, in Doctor style, I Believe Myself Wholeheartedly. The desire to help others, in my case including and especially myself, is truly at the Heart of every Doctor. I will always hold this true and dear to me as the best part of being in a Profession with the intent of Healing. My Upgrade that is underway is to look after myself so Heroically that I will be a more Potent Healer. It will be easy on me because it will be all about empowering the Patient to Heal themselves. Each reader will have their own choices to make. I offer you to open your mind to alternate possibilities. I implore you to look to your own experience over Historical Systems, Medical or otherwise. I encourage you to ask the Optimal Questions. A good start, Is this really true? often in your Life. Let’s Do This.
Oh … and for the record. I Love You. As in the three syllable word Agape. For me, this word does not need to link with Christianity but with Humanity. Strange that this word exists as a noun and not as a verb. Otherwise I would have said I Agape You. I hope that is not too much love for you. Last time that was Diagnosed in me (by me), I was escorted to one of the most locked up Psychiatric rooms in the City of Edmonton. Was challenged to keep my Love to myself. A time to be silly … and a time to be serious. Wise words. As I have often said, I am a more balanced, grounded, sovereign version of myself now.
I see a bright future for us all.
Come With Me Now by KONGOS
P.S. – The featured Orangutan is Budi. “For the first year of his life, Budi the baby Orangutan was kept in a chicken cage and fed on nothing but condensed milk which was slowly killing him. When we rescued him he was lonely, sick and afraid.” The International Animal Rescue. Love the analogy of the Budi story. We are the system. The system is us. Cages abound. The sooner and more compassionately we all recognize this, the quicker and easier the remedy. Rescued Baby Orangutan Play Session. They are a little weak after rescue. Baby steps … Let’s Play!
A long time ago, history tells us that there was a widely practiced treatment used by Doctors for nearly 2000 years called Bloodletting. I own a coffee table book about Medical History. It reads like a horror movie. After writing this story, I noticed a very large pool of (symbolic) blood … and tears. Just sayin’… I feel a lot better. Writing for me is an energetic form of bloodletting: Intense while exhilarating. Painless. Not for the fainthearted.
The Image I See is one of me Cutting My Heart Out and Serving it Lovingly on a Silver Platter to You. I was careful to cut it into comfortable bite-sized pieces as I did not want anyone to choke. Because then I would have to do the Heimlich Manoeuvre. And I am lazy. Not to mention, Retired. I trust you to do your own damned Heimlich Manoeuvre. Hint: slam yourself into a chair chest first or something.
I would call this story a CLM – Career Limiting Move. Within Traditional Western Medicine. Good thing I am Retired!
Two Stories relating to more specifics of my Manic Experiences that led to involuntary hospitalizations. More remain yet unpublished. In the perfect time. There is a Method in my Madness…
Final morsel to consider as the quote matches my upgraded Belief I am installing/installed into my mindset. Foundation of the Physics of Consciousness:
The majority have been programmed from their past experience to expect physical decline. And while it is something they don’t want, they are programmed to expect it. And so, they’re going to get what they expect. It’s not that what they expect is the reality that everyone lives, but that everyone lives the reality of what they expect.