anesthesiologist, as my life would literally be in their hands for a couple of hours. The last thought I allowed to cross my mind just before I went under anesthesia was that these people knew what they were doing and that I was in good hands. Having major abdominal surgery hurts. There is no getting around it, because the abdominal muscles are cut and sewn back together again. But more than the pain, I was bothered by the feeling of having an opening in my body where I shouldn’ t have had one. The fact that it was sewn up only made it feel like a sewnup opening. My first body image when I came to was a memory of the shrunken heads made by the Jivaro head hunters of South America, with the mouths sewn shut. I felt as if I had had one of those mouths put in a few inches below my navel. The pain, bad as it was, made sense, and so it didn’ t scare me. Painkillers scared me, so I didn’ t ask for any. I didn’ t want to mess up my nervous system on top of everything else. It was a pleasant surprise for me that not only was I not given any medication against my wishes, I wasn’ t even offered any! I didn’ t have to expend any energy refusing and explaining. In my dazed state, I felt very distinctly that the medical establishment was becoming a little bit less drug-happy; soon, perhaps very soon, there would be real cooperation between the different healing methods. I set my energy to the task of healing myself. As soon as I could, I had a few licks of umeboshi paste( highly contractive), to strengthen my adrenal system— the seat of vitality— and generally pull me together. After I was allowed to eat, I refused the Jell-O and the milk and asked instead for hot water, which I used to make myself some miso soup with seaweed, for the trace minerals in it. My husband brought me grains and vegetables, I ate oatmeal, toast, and salad from the hospital meals, and on the fourth day I was out. The next six weeks I spent eating beans, grains, and vegetables, and avoiding sweets, fruits, and juices, so as to encourage contractiveness. In addition, I ate about three or four ounces of fish, chicken, or turkey daily; several times I even ate meat. After all, I was wounded, not sick; I needed protein for tissue repair. And repair I did— very quickly, according to the doctor. Also, it seems that my contractive energy worked very well during the operation itself, for the surgeon said my tissues had practically snapped back together of their own accord. Within two weeks I was on my feet and teaching again. The most important thing I learned from my hospital experience was a reaffirmation of an old cliché: It takes two to tango. Healing, be it with herb teas or laser beam surgery, is a cooperation between the healer and the“ healee,” between the doctor and the patient. It cannot be done to us without our consent. In American Indian medicine, the shaman first asks permission“ to change the course of this one’ s life.” 1
The doctor can be the most consummate expert, cutting and sewing with great accuracy and precision, keeping all life-support systems precisely tuned— but unless the patient cooperates and heals, all the craftsmanship is to no avail. There is nothing in heaven or on earth that any medicine can do if the body refuses to heal itself. But if the body does want to heal, it will do so with, without, and at times even in spite of medicine. In one episode of his TV series, The Body in Question( based on the book of the same title), Jonathan Miller showed open-heart surgery being performed on a woman with a defective valve. He said in conclusion,“ If we hadn’ t treated her like a mechanism, we couldn’ t have restored her humanity.” Apart from the fact that dying is every bit as human as living, there is a fallacy in that statement: Although the doctor indeed works like a mechanic, a mechanism doesn’ t heal. His work fails without the active cooperation of the patient’ s system. Perhaps the major philosophical flaw of modern medicine has been precisely that it has been treating the human organism, which is self-healing, as if it were a mechanism, which tends to break down if left alone. It is important and helpful to change a heart valve surgically, and it is right for the surgeon to take pride in his work. Yet regardless of the elegant mechanical maneuvers of which medicine is capable today, the doctor still does only half the work. The other half, equally intricate and subtle, is done by the patient. And much as the doctor needs acknowledgment and respect for his work, the patient needs it for his. I felt wonderful and competent when Dr. Sherman commented on how fast I had healed. Fortunately, respect for the patient is fast becoming the norm, especially thanks to the work of such people as Norman Cousins, Dr. Bernard Siegel, and O. Carl Simonton, the concern of many enlightened physicians, and the growing willingness of patients to be responsible for their own condition. A PROPOSAL FOR UNIFYING THE OPPOSITES Man is one, and our salvation lies eventually in a mutual sharing of all knowledge.
— Richard Grossinger, Planet Medicine It is becoming increasingly evident that, whatever our individual preference is in healing matters, our horizons must be broadened.“ Holistic” or naturalistic types like myself must recognize the valuable aspects of technological medicine. Doctors and hospitals must admit that there are areas in which old-fashioned, noninvasive approaches to healing are more effective than their own. How can this dialogue be encouraged? If I lived in a fairy-tale world and all my dreams could come true, I’ d like to see a worldwide meeting of M. D. s, chiropractors, acupuncturists, iridologists, bodywork professionals, and food people( including myself) during