Day 1 - Patrick the Natur-opath

I really thought Patrick-opath was great.  He looks like a naturopath, holistic healer should look- tall, thin, youthful.  He's peaceful and calm - even when his computer crashes.  The office is this great hacienda in the middle of town with no sign. The place smells 'spa-like' but there's no freakish Anya music lurking in the background.   It's my initial visit and I don't see any enema bags hanging in the bathroom, so it's safe.

The intake takes an hour. They try to heal you in 3 areas:  Nutrition - switching Burger King for green juices and healthy fats (I didn't know there was such a thing).  Psychological guidance - stresses that are causing health problems - just ask my jelly belly.  Energy work - cells are energy not being in balanced from a cellular level leads to all kinds of physical and emotional problems.

I lap this stuff up.  I saw Fat, Sick and Almost Dead.  I know I eat like shit.  When I started juicing and cut out sugar early in the game after my early retirement, I felt like a different person.  But the draw of sugar, fat and all things Twinkie crashed my will power.  I showered my unforgiving liver with all kinds of toxic challenges that helped relieve my stress: junk food, binge drinking, ambein, barbeque ribs, high doses of prescription meds for high blood pressure, cholesterol, diabetes.  And loads of aspirin for pain.

I also know psychologically, I'm in rough shape.  The past year was right out of a Stephen King novel.  I had a rough boss with ADD and his lover with bi-polar that worked for me, I got in a car wreck that injured 4 vertebrae in my neck, I had bad office policies and a snarky co-worker that liked to go to my boss and make up stories about me and my staff,  55 hour work weeks - 6 days a week which led to me quitting (yay). But no job and no money sucks when you are the breadwinner. And then to top it off, my stepdaughter (who I helped raise) dropped dead within a few minutes from a heart embolism on Halloween - just as I was winning my costume contest for dressing as Miley Cyrus as I was re-enacting her MTV performance of Blurred Lines.

As for as energy, I didn't have any.

Patrick took notes on all of this and after about 3 pages of my maladies and miseries, he politely said "I think we have enough to work with here".  He's probably moved by now so I can't come back.  Or is busy getting lots of energy work himself because of the sparks that were flying off me. 

He asked if I would like the complete consultation package and I jumped on with both feet.  He handed me a stack of papers to fill out and gave me simple instructions "No sugar or salt for the next week".

It would be easier for me to fly to the moon, which I had always hoped was made of cheese.  But at least there were no coffee enemas suggested.