Healing Mass

I was just searching this blog for my last healing mass story and can't find it. Maybe I never wrote it? Maybe I didn't look hard enough? Maybe it went the way of other disappearing posts?

In short, we took Son #1 to the pediatric neurology clinic at the University of Rochester Medical Center one afternoon a couple of years ago. His Tourette's seemed to be progressing at a rapid pace and our pediatrician recommended a visit.

His symptoms started so slowly, we didn't quite notice for years. If it wasn't for my girlfriend Jacque sharing her daughter's story, and us beginning to put the pieces together, I'm not sure when it would have dawned on us. A weekend of eye blinks. (Eye drops.) An ongoing dry hack. (Allergies. Buy hypoallergenic pillows.) Expectorating. (Yuck! Will you stop that? You're grossing us out.)

Long story short, the day we were in the clinic, he described all of his symptoms to the doctor. And he was off charts behaviorally. Beeping. Snorting. Foot kicks. Hand gestures. Coughing. You name it. The list went on and on. He said that he tries to suppress his ticks in school but they come on full-bore at night when he allows them to. She asked how he knew when a tick was coming on and he likened it to a sneeze: you just know.  We were then asked if we wanted to put him on meds but he, and we, declined. Until (or unless) it was bothering him socially, why have a nine year old boy ingest a toxin?

The next night my sister and I took Son #1 to a healing mass at a local Catholic church. After the service, the visiting priest, Father McAlear (who looks a bit like Sean Connery complete with sparkly eyes), laid his healing hands on our heads and said a prayer. Guess what: the entire crazy spectrum of symptoms gone. Completely gone -- for maybe six or nine months at which point they came creeping back but, to this day, have never been as bad as they were a few years ago.

Fast forward to Tuesday night this week. My girlfriends Dawn and Meg were headed to St. Catherine of Sienna in the next town over for another healing mass. Same priest. This  year, he was touching people and they were fainting. Literally fainting. It was surreal.

He came to Son #1, chatted for a minute, prayed over him and then said to him, "Do you know what you have to do now?" Son #1 replied, "No, what?" and he responded, "Get a haircut."

Yes Grannie, you have an ally in the Catholic church.

Photo Per Day #6: Acupuncture

I went to see one of my favorite women on the planet at 8:00 a.m. this morning: my acupuncturist, Deeanne Bevin. Today we talked about the usual stuff: health, work, stress, politics, faith, family and pooping.

Grannie gave me a highly desired gift certificate to an acupuncture session in a professional practice in an office building a few years ago. I was sooooooo excited! There was a menu of choices on the wall from which I could select (weight loss, smoking cessation, balance, etc.) I was told to take my clothes off and lie down on a cold hospital cot. The doctor then rapidly proceeded to stick tens of needles up and down my body with what looked and felt like a staple gun. He left my voodoo doll body to lie there freezing to death.

When I told Robert, my hair stylist, about this well intentioned but god-awful experience, he referred me to Deeanne. I now understand firsthand the difference in treatment styles. Night and day. Deeanne's practice is in a cozy little home. It's well lit and surrounded by trees and birds. It's also warm inside and the beds are heated. Most importantly, she knows eastern medicine inside and out. Unlike my first experience, it's both professional and personal. Chatting, examining my tongue, taking my pulse. And gently (for the most part!) hand placing needles in a few select areas of my body. I then relax (covered!), in a warm bed, while listening to beautiful music.

It's a great, great feeling to start the day back in bed . . . 

And stretch!