So I woke up yesterday morning and my blood sugar was 367. Since it is supposed to be below 120, that was a really bad thing. No point in reporting it to my primary or secondary doctors because they’ve gone silent on me. Thanks a bunch, guys. Physicians prescribing pharmaceuticals did the damage and other physicians won’t hang in there with me.
So I had breakfast—yogurt and Irish soda bread—and went to see the local acupuncturist. I’ve been getting acupuncture for about fifteen years from a distant acupuncturist but he no longer is accessible. I’m too sick to deal with the abuses of Medicaid transportation, trying to get through the plate glass door in my wheelchair when there’s no press plate, the long time in the waiting room, and the layers of bureaucracy behind the locked door. Didn’t used to be that way, but the younger generation has relegated the physician to just practicing medicine, not setting or running policy. It is no longer a user-friendly office and I don’t want to be there, so I go to the neighborhood guy.
He interviews me. I explain that I’ve had a lot of acupuncture for things like pneumonia, tendonitis and depression, and that I respond well. The man who used to do my acupuncture said there was one specific site under the left breast for the treatment of diabetes, but the acupuncture would have to be done every day. This acupuncturist does not agree; I’m inclined to believe the previous fellow, who was very broadly trained—not to mention terrifically smart—and had at least a decade more experience.
We come to a point where the acupuncturist (I had to ask him to sit down so we could be at eye level; he was standing over me making me crane my neck backwards) is insisting that I have to work with him—repeatedly insisting. What makes him think I’m not working with him? The physician who I went to for all those long years and with all that success never berated me with this you-have-to-work-with-me stuff. He just did his part and trusted me to do mine. Finally I snap at the acupuncturist, “I’ve had acupuncture for a decade and responded well. My glucose is 367 and I feel terrible.” So he shuts up and sticks the needles in.
He inserts about two dozen needles—top of the head, ears, hands, chest, knees and ankles—and then I rest quietly for half an hour (other man used to do an hour) to the tune of his artificially introduced waves and birdsong. After he pulls the needles, he massages my shoulders and does a two-finger poke up and down my spine, which hurts terribly. I cry out and he says he’ll go easier. He does, but not much. It still hurts awfully. Then I pay him $75 cash and he recommends weekly appointments at $65. I schedule for the next week. There were times when I’d be pushed into my previous acupuncturist’s office in a wheelchair and come out dancing behind it. Not today. I still feel just as bad as when I went in.
I go home and check my blood sugar. It’s 450. I have lunch—half a calzone and one Toll House cookie—and go to my massage therapist. Diana Sponsler is not some ham-handed therapist, more athlete than intellect, doing Swedish massage in which she vigorously digs her fingers into my muscles and aggressively kneads them. Diana is certified in orthopedic massage, craniosacral therapy, lymphatic drainage and Reiki.
I don’t understand all this stuff but (a) it is a lot like what the late Kathy Urshel used to do during the years I went to her; (b) when I question Diana she gives me answers that sound pretty solid, and (c) it works. I’ve been going to her every other week for about a year and a half; now I’m going every day. The day before, she’d had me lay face down and then sprinkled my spinal area with a whole bunch of essential oils. I smelled pretty good. So Diana does her thing while I doze and pray for healing, then she discharges me with colostrum.
The previous day Diana had gone to her colleague and Reiki master who, she said, “Sensed my concern for you and I gave her some brief information, upon which she practically shouted that you should try Colostrum. It helped her return from the brink of death from cancer and mercury poisoning, and is apparently great for supporting immune systems (restoring she said) and for diabetics.”
My first reaction to anybody’s recommendation of anything to be taken internally is “Uh-h-h, no.” Experience has taught me that I react as badly to nutrients or dietary supplements as I do to pharmaceuticals: they all are strange substances that make my immune system stand up and fight. People have repeatedly urged me to take things that “enhance” or “boost” the immune system. Um, no thanks. I don’t have a weak immune system that lets me down so that I get every cold and flu bug that comes around; I have a hypersensitive immune system that attacks not only cold and flu bugs but also shrimp, dogs, spring and the occasional tomato. We don’t need to enhance or boost an immune system that is already boosted out of the known universe.
However, I do try to keep an open mind and words can never hurt me, so I go on the Internet and read up on colostrum, which is the really high quality stuff that comes from a mother’s nipples before her milk comes in. (I surely do hope I can continue this tomorrow.)