Yesterday was my New Patient appt at the naturopath's office. They were supposed to draw my blood but couldn't because I was (am?) dehydrated. I knew I was thirsty and my lips were chapped and my skin was itchy but dehydrated? To the point where they can't siphon a drop of blood out of my (apparently) teeny tiny veins? Well, huh.
So instead we talked. A lot. About me. It was similar to therapy but with a little more prompting from the care professionals. I got both naturopaths for this appointment and it was fun and funny to watch their interaction. One with a sheet of paper and pen, the other tapping away on her laptop as I answered their questions about every ding dang thing my body does. Then they'd chime in with what they thought the symptom meant. "Adrenals" "Yup, her adrenals are spent" back and forth they'd ping pong the questions, interpretations, and information. I watched the volley - or was I the ball? - and tried to follow along to what it all meant.
It meant that things like waking up at 3 in the morning every night for months has to do with my liver, my grief, and my anger. It meant that diving into the candy jar every day at 3 in the afternoon for months has to do with cortisol, adrenals and stress. It meant that preparing to run from a tiger packs pounds on a 21st century woman's body, when that tiger is figurative and the running never ceases.
It meant that symptoms, which my very kind, very informative GP never thought to ask for and so I never thought to mention got seen and heard in the light of day. Symptoms that mean something about my health and happiness. Symptoms that point to challenges in my body, mind, heart, and the way I live.
It meant that I've paused, a little, and let these symptoms catch up to me (my figurative tiger? or maybe just his growl and threat) so I actually feel kind of crummy right now. Low energy. Emotional. Sensitive. But I think that's ok, because it also meant that I've found my safe cave where the tiger can't really hurt me. It's still prowling about outside. I hear it. I wonder about it. But with these kind women naturopaths I have hope of letting the tiger go on its way and living a fuller life free of him.
So instead we talked. A lot. About me. It was similar to therapy but with a little more prompting from the care professionals. I got both naturopaths for this appointment and it was fun and funny to watch their interaction. One with a sheet of paper and pen, the other tapping away on her laptop as I answered their questions about every ding dang thing my body does. Then they'd chime in with what they thought the symptom meant. "Adrenals" "Yup, her adrenals are spent" back and forth they'd ping pong the questions, interpretations, and information. I watched the volley - or was I the ball? - and tried to follow along to what it all meant.
It meant that things like waking up at 3 in the morning every night for months has to do with my liver, my grief, and my anger. It meant that diving into the candy jar every day at 3 in the afternoon for months has to do with cortisol, adrenals and stress. It meant that preparing to run from a tiger packs pounds on a 21st century woman's body, when that tiger is figurative and the running never ceases.
It meant that symptoms, which my very kind, very informative GP never thought to ask for and so I never thought to mention got seen and heard in the light of day. Symptoms that mean something about my health and happiness. Symptoms that point to challenges in my body, mind, heart, and the way I live.
It meant that I've paused, a little, and let these symptoms catch up to me (my figurative tiger? or maybe just his growl and threat) so I actually feel kind of crummy right now. Low energy. Emotional. Sensitive. But I think that's ok, because it also meant that I've found my safe cave where the tiger can't really hurt me. It's still prowling about outside. I hear it. I wonder about it. But with these kind women naturopaths I have hope of letting the tiger go on its way and living a fuller life free of him.
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