I have been told that I can be hard on very serious subjects, something of a comic where no comedy is warranted.
So I decided for a time that I would approach personal healing with an open mind and try it out, I mean, what could really go wrong? I seem to need a perk up and work was going all crazy. What would be the harm in finally taking the advice of my secretary and seeing her healer?
I mean, she talks about him all the time. What would be the harm trying this guy out? It's gotta be like a regular doctor's appointment, right? Like a dentist or an OB/GYN.
And so I made up my mind. I will try the alternative medicine thing out and go see my secretary's energy healer. Which isn't all that strange. My insurance covers everything from chiropractic procedures to acupuncture and I am sure as heck not going to have some little man stick me with needles. No. I went for the big guns. Ole Charley-boy. The supposed Grand Pooh-Bah of healers.
Ok I'll admit on my way there I became an itsy bitsy bit scared. I mean, he lives in the backwoods in some far out city that had a knack for attracting cults and melon people. Seriously. Melon people. Oh yeah! I read about them in google's guide of the paranormal, so they're real, ok?
Whoa, I'm getting the heebee jeebies even thinking about it. And as I drive up his densely forested long gravel driveway, I notice a very large pond in his yard. No wonder why he came so highly recommended. I bet you that the people who timidly asked for a second option found their cold dark day under the thirty feet of water. Long dark driveway, pond, melon people. Great. I am going to die.
But even with the prospect of a possible certain death, I get out of my car and walk to the door. The man's common-law wife answers and issues me directions to their basement office. Yes. Basement. I bet you are thinking, "Whoop. Should've driven away when you had the chance, huh Elizabeth." Yep. You are soooo right.
When I finally meet Chuck, after sitting and having a nice conversation with the man's cat "Tumor" or whatever, I am a bit tense. White hair, slim build.
I furiously rake my brain for any pictures I may have seen of him over the last 5 years of America's Most Wanted and Cops: Cleveland Edition. Pictures that would have resembled a tall elderly man with thick glasses.
"Welcome, please leave your things here and come with me. Don't worry about anyone touching your purse, my sons are playing out back." Sons? Ah-huh…I'm sure Damien and Malachi are having real fun out back by the pond. Great, just great.
"Now take off everything except your underwear. I will be back in a few minutes."
"So, um, where are the little patient gowns."
"There are none" and he walks out of the room. Just like that, leaving me with my jaw hanging down and Enya 'sailing away' on some hidden CD player. Huh…. Wait. No. This can't be happening, right? I can't be seen in my unmentionables.
See, I've gain weight since I have let anyone see me in my skivvies and I overslept this morning, and, oh sweet Jesus, I was wearing a thong.
Now I know what you are thinking, "just leave" right? "You've had like a million times to get out, from pulling into the driveway to the common law wife ushering you to the basement. Get out Liz!!!"
But no. I didn't. Maybe it's because I am tough like warm butter, maybe it's because of the amount of money I already spent (let's see 20 minutes at $120 per hour comes to...), or maybe it was because my secretary swears but this guy. I don't know. All I really know is that five minutes later I was standing in front of the guy wearing nothing but a bra and thong.
"Can I, um… Well you see I didn't… [deep breath] I kinda woke up late and didn't know that I would be without that patient gown thing."
"Now how were you born?" The healer asks.
"How were you born?" He asks again as if it makes more sense when repeated.
He gives me a look. "No, I mean we are all born naked so there is nothing to feel ashamed of."
"Now please on the table, Elizabeth"
Now at this point, I want you to take a step back. Just stop reading and really think about what the heck is going on. Because I myself am lost. I am completely and utterly so lost that I have to resort to puns like "hmm buy me dinner first" or "hold on there Tex."
I mean really, I don't normally think in puns, at least I don't think I think in puns. But there I was thinking in lewd puns and hopping on the table like some trained monkey. If only I had an accordion.
Think it's bad already? Oh no no no no - it gets worse.
So he was sitting there and I was lying there. He starts pushing down on my hip with his fingers. Really hard too. And then the worst happens, he starts burping. Loud.
"Um….er….I'm sorry, uh… is something wrong?" I ask not really wanting to know the answer. Actually, really, really not wanting to know the answer. At all. I mean, I should really take that question back, so if you will excuse me-
"It's these toxins!" He interrupts my thoughts. "These toxins in your body are making me sick!" He starts rolling his head. [Neck crack] [Burp] [Neck crack] [Burp].
"Breathe faster! I need you to help me clear out these toxins!" [Neck crack] [Burp] [Neck crack] [Burp]
Breathe faster? Ok. The man is suffering from some sort of chiropractic burping problem, and he wants me to breathe faster.
Ok, Ok. And so begins me breathing like a woman in labor.
I'm getting light headed now…..
[To be read in a Scottish accent] Captain, I don't know how much more she can take.
"Faster!!! Agh, these toxins are making me sick!!" [Burp]
Then just like that, he stops burping, stands up and walks to the door. "You are not invested in your own healing. I cannot work with you anymore today." He leaves the room.
Huh? Wait. So um…what just happened?
I mean, he left the room. No prognosis, no take two of these, no doctor's you-got-to-get-exercising speech? I look around. Yep, he is definitely gone. Thank GOD.
I get dressed as fast as I could, and half run/ half trip out of the room. Chuck is sitting behind a desk in the lobby/basement. "So next week, same time…" he starts.
"Um…well see I have to, um…." I make up some stupid excuse not to schedule another appointment, and got my sorry butt out of there as fast as my flip-flops could take me. Which is not very fast, but still it's the best I could do.
Alright so maybe my office secretary was right, maybe I am a bit depressed, maybe need some personal help, but I definitely didn't need what I got from that appointment. I was not ready for the craziness I just went through.
I mean, why does this stuff always happen to me? Am I working off some sort of previous life karma? If so, I hope my previous self had fun. Tons of fun.
Ah, karma. That reminds me of another story...
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