Thursday, January 27, 2011
Dear Dr. Jeff,
Day One of my Liver/Gallbladder Flush (LGF) went very well. I drank the whole quart of salt water flush without getting nauseated. The kidney castor oil pack was relaxing and the coffee enema was a bit awkward but painless.
This was a miraculous outcome because I have been terrified of the “coffee enema” since the day of my scan* last week.
During the scan, when you marveled that I asked whether I needed a detox and then the scan said I needed a LGF, I began to feel wise, in-touch with my body, and having special intuitive powers for about 7 seconds. It was at that point that I asked if the LGF involved an “enema”. Sure enough, you gave me the wrong answer and the gray and blue clouds of despair and dread began to move in.
I was anxious beyond belief waiting on the detox instructional protocol to arrive by email. When I saw that it was “23 pages” and what seemed to be complicated procedures, I sat it on my desk. It took me two days to process my anxiety and dread to actually read it. While it sat unread on my desk, I knew in order to survive the week of detox, I needed a plan of attack and I must relinquish most, if not all, of my household responsibilities.
First, I went to the calendar and cleared a total of seven days starting on Wednesday, January 26, 2011. However, right before the start date, I did have a meeting on January 25th with Ms Social Worker from the foster/adoption agency. Floyd and I are planning to adopt again. Our two children, Joel and Ruth, were adopted as infants when we lived in Michigan.
Second, I approached Joel (12) and Ruth (11) with the unread “23 page” protocol in my hand, flipping the pages.
“I need a no stress, well a low stress seven days next week. (I remembered that all the “no stress” people live in the cemetery.) These procedures are going to take a lot of my time and I need to be calm in order to get through this.”
They eyed the “23 page” of instructions and the I mean business look in my eyes and my don’t try me demeanor. Simultaneously, they said, “Yes, Ma’am.” and quickly backed away.
Earlier in the day, while carrying the instructions that detailed the “coffee enema”. I asked Floyd, “If your scan with Dr Jeff said you should take a Liver/Gallbladder Flush, what would you do?”
Floyd hesitated and said, “Well if I needed it, I would.”
Now, I have known Floyd and all his family since I was five years old (His uncle married my aunt.) and we have been married for 21 years. So, what he was really saying was, “If Dr. Jeff told me I would die that week unless I took a LGF, then I would take one.”
Now normally, I would have been all over him like “white on rice” psycho-analyzing him and making connections between his denial and the reluctance to do the LGF and his high blood sugar and the possibility that it could result in him becoming disabled, bed-ridden and leaving me to care for him with the extra burden of working through my anger at him because he didn’t take a LGF that would have prevented all this hardship on top of my having to raise two children without the benefit of an able-bodied husband. HOWEVER, I was so depressed about the “coffee enema” thing, that I just said, “I understand”.
So next, I asked for Floyd’s help. I said, ”Floyd, I’m going to need some help. I don’t think I can handle cooking and all these procedures at the same time. I need to have a clear space to relax my mind and just rest.” He looked at me and saw my pitifulness and cheerily said, “No problem honey, I’d be happy to help.”
I wondered, if behind his willingness, he was thinking, “I’m glad it’s you and not me!”.
The last preparation was to write an hour by hour schedule of each day. By Monday, January 24th, each ounce of the drinks, each supply needed and each procedure was allocated a time slot. (It was perfect until you informed me on the morning of Day One that the water of the salt flush could not be included in my daily water requirement! So back to the drawing board to recalculate the ounces of water needed for each time slot.)
OK, by Tuesday morning I was ready, but still very depressed with the thoughts of the “coffee enema”.
In the afternoon, Ms Social Worker came for the 3-4 hour session. A good part of the session was discussing some of the horrific things that happen to children that bring them into the foster care system and some of the things the child does not share until well into the foster/adoption placement.
I was already moody and depressed; the vivid descriptions given by Ms Social Worker brought on a tsunami of additional depressing thoughts. I’d catch myself holding my head in my hands nearly touching the table we were all gathered around in our library. I wanted to escape the room and the evil world where these horrible things were happening.
Once, when I caught myself again holding my head with my hands over my eyes, I sat up straight and noticed how Floyd was quite involved in the conversation. All I could do was nod and grunt some responses. But here was my husband, the man of few (or no words) giving informational responses: “The taser the grandfather used on the kids is called a cow prod.”
Asking probing questions: “Why do you think the District Attorney didn’t seek prosecution against the son of the City council member?”
And follow-up questions: “Did the insurance company pay the foster mom each of the three times the foster child burned down her trailer?”
That was just another depressing blow to me. I wanted this conversation to be over and he was prolonging it!
On top of that, this was the man that you had to pull phrases, much less sentences, out of. This was the man that often I would bare my soul and he would just look at me wondering what I wanted him to say. This was the man that on several occasions, when we were arguing about the lack of communication between us, I would end the one-sided conversation by quoting from Dion Warwick’s hit record, “If anyone had a heart they would take me in their arms and love me. Why won’t you?”.
If Floyd and Ms Social Worker were on television and the sound was turned off, folks who know Floyd would just know she was a sports announcer and they were discussing the Super Bowl!
Now, I’m about to die in the dark pit of depression. I have thoughts of the Perils of Pauline where the villain, dressed in an all black ¾ length suit jacket, black pants and a tall slim black top hat, has tied her to the railroad tracks and the fast train is approaching. All Pauline can do is struggle against the ropes and yell.
But, I’m struggling to keep my body still and trying to suppress my screams. I can think of no way to politely ask them to “Shut-up!”. If I blurt out my emotions, Ms. Social Worker may falsely believe I’m unstable and unfit to adopt children. Floyd would be highly embarrassed and would demand I go immediately to bed after calling you and saying that the “coffee enema” was too much for me to take (really too much for him). So, I suffered through the session.
That night I prayed for:
Courage to start the seven days;
Wisdom to do each task to perfection. The “23 page” protocol had a ridiculous statement that if you can’t hold the enema, just release it and boil more coffee and start over! There was not going to be any repeats on this ship!
AND the ability to like “coffee enemas”.
Now, that last one was a stretch. However, in my life I have learned that Yehovah is a gracious and generous giver. When we moved to Alabama in 2008, we prayed for a house with 3 bedrooms, 2 baths and some land that we could afford. Yehovah blessed us with 5.02 acres with two houses (we rent the second house), 3 bathrooms in the main house and a sandy creek beach on the other side of our wooded area – all for $45,000. It would never have entered my mind to have prayed for that much. So I’ve learned to enlarge my faith, my obedience and my prayers.
Dr. Jeff. at the beginning of the story, you see that Numbers 1 and 2 were answered.
Well this morning, Floyd got up before me and got Joel and Ruth up to feed the animals and get ready for Homeschool. I could hear him saying my usual mantra,
“Wash, put on lotion, deodorant, do your hair…”.
Then he walked back into our dark bedroom and gave me a back-rub (going in the correct clockwise manner) and asked if he could bring me anything.
At that moment, I knew I liked “coffee enemas!”
*Scan: “Using the body’s natural energetic field, a communication link is established between the patient and the computer via the ZYTO hand cradle. Through this connection, ZYTO sends stimuli and then records the body’s response. This conversation is called biocommunication, and it provides insights into health and wellness.” https://www.zyto.com/
Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow; it empties today of its strength. ~Corrie Ten Boom
When you look at your life, the greatest happinesses are family happinesses. ~Joyce Brothers