Release the Dogs of War...and the Pain of Malpractice!

I'm taking a risk today. I find it is both easier to write and more appealing to your audience if you write when you are miserable or angry. Let's face it, there's more punch to the words when things are going wrong. HOWEVER...

Things are going VERY well for me! I thought I'd tell you about recent events.

I'd like to thank my friend and fellow classmate John for suggesting I see a therapist who specializes in Cranio-Sacral Therapy. I had what can only be described as a religious experience as this petite woman in her late 50s twisted me around, poked me all over, yanked on my feet, jumped on my back (literally) and pushed places other people shouldn't touch unless you're in a committed relationship. (I had my clothes on the whole time, but still...)

I will admit that for the first 20 minutes I lay on the table thinking, "This quack is taking me for $60 and I'm going to kill John when I get out of here!" At minute marker 22, things began to change. She mumbled something about putting my hip back where it belongs and I got nervous.

"Um....I walked in here on both legs so I'm pretty sure my hips are just where they're supposed to be!" I thought to myself as a mild sense of distress moved across my frame.

"Oh yes! There! There is definitely tension there," she said as she dug her fingers into my pelvic bone.

"Naturally!" I thought. "There's a stranger digging around in my nether regions with the apparent intent of harming me without leaving any evidence! Clearly keeping my clothes on was a ruse to keep from leaving bruises, you tricky devil!"

I made the appropriate noises - grunting, then yiping, followed by a howl and an outright "Ouch!" - to let her know she had encountered my pain threshold and had a solid foot and a half on the wrong side of the line.

My cries fell on deaf ears. The gouging continued...unmercifully.

This phase of the "massage" probably lasted 20 minutes. It felt like 2 weeks in an internment camp. Finally, she sat in a chair beside me. I thought perhaps she was going to pull out the candles and make this satanic ritual official. Instead, she slid her hands underneath me - placing one under my neck and another at the base of my spine. My word! I think she might have studied the ways of the Klingon warrior. She's about to tear me limb from limb while crying to her warrior ancestors in some gutteral screech of victory!

Fear was the only thing holding me on that table. My torturer...that is to say my therapist... began speaking to me. This was not the first time. She'd made small talk throughout the entire ordeal. She'd ask, "What part of North Carolina are you from?" then jerk my leg like it was a drumstick on Thanksgiving day.

But this time her questions were different. The gouging went from physical to emotional. She asked about the pain I had carried in my back for 31 years. (I had mentioned at the beginning of the session that I had a very traumatic surgery at the age of 5 and felt that my chronic back problems stemmed from that experience.) She asked if I could go back to that surgery, stand in that room, go to that 5 year old girl. My tears came instantly. The process of my transformation (the parts you've witnessed) and the personal therapy I've undergone as I train to be a counselor (the parts you haven't seen) had dug up this old wound, but I hadn't realized how close to the surface it had gotten.

As she pressed against my neck and spine, I stood beside that operating table looking down at myself at 5 years old. I saw the terror in my face as nurses held me down. I heard my screams as they denied my claims that the anesthetic wasn't working and I could feel them cutting into my back. I saw my mother sitting beside me, desperate to help but unable to take me away. That little girl looked up at me and I felt every ounce of her pain again - not then but right now, right here. I heard the therapist say, "There it is!" She sounded excited, as if "There it is!" was a good thing. I thought to myself, "THERE IT IS!" Only my thoughts sounded like the horrified screams of someone who's just seen the monster who's been terrorizing the village and is trying to alert the authorities.

She told me to feel the pain, to let it exist, not to shut myself off from it. After 31 years of keeping it safely stored in a knot in my back, the idea of letting the pain out was horrifying. Why in the world would I release that on myself? And yet, as she talked and I saw myself lying on that operating table I realized that I wasn't on that table - I was standing above. I had survived this scene.

My therapist gently asked, "what does that little girl need right now? what could ease her pain?"

"My mom." I answered right away. Even though my mother had been there with me and hadn't been unable to stop the doctor from hurting me then, I still looked to her for comfort now.

"What can she do for you right now? What can your mother do to help that little girl?"

First, I thought that just being held, feeling her hand on my arm would comfort me. Then I realized that I could completely change the script. She didn't have to help me re-survive this ordeal. "She can take me out of here!" I said with a hint of surprise and excitement in my voice.

"Good!" came my therapist's reply. "Where is she taking you?"

I didn't have to think. She had already lifted me off the table and we had turned and stepped out into a field. It was full of yellow flowers, green grass and sunshine. It was warm. It was safe. My mother was holding me and I was letting go. I slowly became aware that Jesus had joined us in that field. He moved in and wrapped us both up.

"Move that image into your heart," my therapist instructed. The image easily floated over to my heart and I felt it lodge there. I also felt my body begin to unravel. I felt three decades of stress and tension and fear and sorrow begin to leave me. I was able to take deep breaths. I wasn't afraid to move my hips. My neck and shoulders were softened.

Throughout the process, as I was moving images around and letting myself feel relief, my therapist commented on what she felt. She could tell when I released - unclinched - my hips. She could feel the blood and fluids begin to move around my spine.

I began to feel as if I had taken a Vicodin. The ache in my back was still there, but it was different. It now felt like a bruise that needs a little time to heal - instead of a gaping wound that will never go away.

After our session ended, I drifted out of the therapist's office in a fog. I felt like I had been carrying a house on my back and someone had finally shown me how to set it down. My mood has been so good for the last two days I almost feel intoxicated. It isn't that foggy, fuzzy feeling like you've had too much wine. It's more an inexplicable happiness that feels so good your brain thinks it must be on something.

As I drove from Springfield down to Cincinnati for a meeting (about an hour and a half drive), I stopped at a service station. I went inside to use the facilities. As I walked back to my car, I realized my hips were swinging like a lounge singer workin' it for tips. It suddenly dawned on me that my hips were so loose for the first time in my life that I was a danger to myself and others. I just laughed as I sashayed across the parking lot and thought to myself, "THIS is what freedom feels like!"

For those of you who are sadists and can't be content to hear my beautiful story of relief after decades of pain:

I bought a new lotion yesterday - excited that it is plant based and, I thought, healthier than most lotions. Turns out I'm allergic to whatever "plant matter" they put in it. Unfortunately, I didn't realize my allergy until I had slathered myself from head to toe to rectify the skin damage done by Ohio's unbelievably dry winter.

So now I'm covered in a red rash (and I mean COVERED) and doped up on Benadryl hoping it will stop the reaction long enough for me to get some sleep.

Still, I feel amazing. Before Tuesday morning (and the massage appointment), this lotion incident might have driven me over the edge. Instead, I'm kind of enjoying that warm fuzzy Benadryl feeling and using the kick-in time to write to you lovely folks.

What an incredible blessing to be able to be in this moment and feel so thankful for the gifts I've been given that head-to-toe red welts and itching are no deterrent! May each of you be given this peace that passes all understanding!