“I think I’m cursed,” said my oldest daughter as we sat on the couch plagued by sickness for the second day. I started thinking about her comment when today found me worse than when I began the antibiotic Avelox 400mg, Qvar 80mcg Inhaler and Singulair this past Monday afternoon. I have been controlling my food intake and my blood sugars are maintained yet I’m still racked with body aches and rattling lungs. My heart is irregular, but I don’t believe it’s in atrial-fib but just to be safe I called my doctor since it’s getting difficult to breath. To the casual observer this would be a great moment to consider calling an ambulance, but I’ve lived this drill for over 15 years though I will admit this one does have my attention.

The last time I had these symptoms was during Thanksgiving 2009 while visiting family in Mississippi. It cost hundreds of dollars only to be told to see my cardiologist. An addition couple a hundred dollars for an echocardiogram and two series of chest x-rays and the diagnosis was “Well, it must have been something you’ve done.” The best cardiologist money can buy and I get a theory. The medical practice is a joke. As my uncle says, “They practice medicine alright. They practice on you for the next guy.” I was drinking moderately at the time while overeating, so I think I can contribute that Thanksgiving episode to what is termed as “holiday heart.” Today, I can’t tell you what is wrong with me. I’m short of breath and have difficulty walking across the house or talking for an extended time. I called the doctor’s office at 3:00pm and it’s now 6:00pm with no call back. Nice to know my symptoms do not require immediate action. $100 says the on-call doctor calls within the hour telling me to go to the nearest ER. I think that’s a rubber stamp answer doctors are required to give to avoid liability law suits. My new heart medicine is Multaq, an experimental drug and I hope I’m not the 1 in a 100 that has an adverse side effect.

It’s hard not turning to the cupboard when anxieties like these occur. I’m trying to treat the desire to binge on "sugar/carb anything" as if I’m contemplating taking a drink. Truth be told, I really have no overwhelming compulsion for a drink. Alcohol has not been kind to me since the diabetes has settled in and in fact it has been down right vicious to me emotionally and physically. Most of my medicines include a warning label with: DO NOT CONSUME ALCOHOL WITH THIS MEDICATION. I always thought it a suggestion, nothing really to take seriously. My last drunk really, REALLY hurt. Food is that easier softer way to quell that demon within.

Speaking of Demons…

My oldest daughter, as I mentioned, believes she is cursed. I asked her where she got such a notion and she replied that ever since she saw a black, lumpy shadow mass coming towards her from our bedroom she feels something is out to get her. She is contributing bad health with evil spirits. I have no idea where she gets these ideas and I’m hoping it’s not from Sunday school. Her last happy experience from a Sunday school teaching was when they told her she was going to hell for lying. It was big fun trying to console a crying six year old that she wasn't going to burn. I tried to explain viruses and bacteria to no avail. I almost asked if sacrificing chickens and beating drums would appease our unwanted guest but I let it go. She’s only eight, but no more Mystery Hunters for her. My wife felt that my involvement in paranormal investigations contributed to my health decline. I’m amazed by superstitious notions. Poor diet and untreated alcoholism win my vote. If there’s a fat inducing vomit enhancing demon that forces people to eat Pop-Tarts and drink to oblivion then she may be right. No matter how much I distance myself from the evangelical heebie jeebies it has now left an undesirable imprint on my daughter’s cognitive reasoning.

By the way, the doctor called as I was writing and suggested I go to the hospital. No lie. Whoever bet against me owes me a Ben. He said it is either the heart or lungs; point blank simple to him. We’ll see. I reminded him that no one had an answer as to the cause after a battery of tests. I think I’ll go for x-rays in the morning at their office and sidestep a bill as large as a mortgage payment from the ER. If I go through all this and once again the diagnosis is a shoulder shrug, then I may consider that strange notion of ‘a demon behind every bush.’

A Side Note:

I have had three strange Déjà vu moments within a month’s time that creep me out. Nothing significant about the event but there was an underlining feeling that these moments began a count down to some life changing happening. While experiencing this phenomenon I knew what each person was going to say and the direction the conversation would go. Somehow I felt charged to remember the significance of these revealed moments but it fails me. Absolutely insane I know. But, I do have this nagging feeling of being unsettled by it all. An actor who missed his cue. I’ve had dreams come true and impressions so strong that I was able to predict future events. I have also been wrong quite often as well. I’m no prophet so I’ll let time reveal what will be. It always does.

Have a seat...or two.

After a 45 minute wait at Red Lobster, we were seated. I always feel extremely anxious not knowing whether I we’ll get a table or a booth. And of course, it was the smallest booth available. I have trained myself to measure width from table to seat and I can tell instantly if an embarrassing situation will present itself for the amusement and whispers of my fellow diners. I attempted to try and slid into the seat next to my daughter. It was obvious by the way the hostesses stared at my gut which was overlapping on the table that this wouldn’t work. I tried to make the best of it. Have you ever had one of those times where you die a thousand deaths or at least wish you could melt into obscurity? I’ve had many. For someone who wants to blend, I get a lot of unwanted attention.

The waitress was nice and by the time she brought our drinks I was having difficulty breathing. The table was starting to cut into me. My wife has been through the drill before and got up immediately when I whispered, “This won’t work” and she was off to find our waitress. We had to move across the room with all eyes on us. How embarrassing this has got to be for my wife. My daughters did not understand why we had to move or why my mood changed. The rest of the dinner I ate without restraint and the relief of doing so did not come. Our Family Fun Night was marred so last night I made the decision to attend an Overeaters Anonymous (OA) meeting. The last time I ventured through those doors was in 2006. It was comforting to see some of the same faces greet me and I was secretly relieved that some were still fat. Horrible thought I know, but I hate the feeling that I have squandered time and I didn’t want to feel a failure or left behind. I could tell immediately that it was where I needed to be. Addictions are a progressive disease and I have definitely progressed.

I considered outpatient treatment with local 10 week intensives but the cost and the fact that no program was accepting new patients lead me to seek elsewhere. Psychologists were all female, very short in conversation and happy to refer me to someone else. I don't believe men are taken serious concerning eating disorders. They seem to be the odd man out since these types of disorders are associated with image. The hourly cost for all teh psychologists was outrageous. I was given names of support groups, but they primarily dealt with bulimia and anorexia as an “eating disorder” which I’m discovering are the poster children for eating disorders. Compulsive Overeating doesn’t have the same glamour or attention as those attempting to reach beauty through purging and starvation. I know I’m probably off base here, but it seems that they’re secretly admired for at least caring about how they look. At least they’re not fat. We McFatties are viewed as the ugly sister of eating disorders. One person said, “We don’t have any compulsive overeaters in our group but I guess you can come if you want to.” Thanks. To feel ostracized and judged as if I don’t receive that from the outside world already is just what I need.

Google eating disorder images and it’s obvious where the attention lies. You’ll see images of sorrowful looking females staring at a fat person in the mirror while in reality they are skeletons. The images of compulsive overeaters are shown with spaghetti hanging out of their mouths with sauce smeared from ear to ear. Or, a smiling attack of giant cheese burger with all the fixin's. Most photos of overweight people have the terms pathetic, fatties, and disgusting in the URL.

It’s funny to realize at the end of three days of email exchanges with support groups and numerous phone calls to hospitals and psychologists, nobody suggested OA. I believe because money can’t be made and they know it works without professional assistance. Listening to those within that meeting and hearing their recovery was truly inspiring, especially being able to see some I knew from 2006 and to see who they are now. The rooms of OA are a comfortable safe place to fall and bleed on the tables with my story.

Day One of abstinence is encouraging. I‘m seasoned and battle weary and know that the “Honeymoon Phase" falls under the same banner used for struggling times… “This Too Shall Pass”

Shamanistic Healing

This is a follow up to my recent blog, “For Dreams Dreamt and Those Not Yet Realized.” Last Saturday night I traveled to the huge town of Peebles, Ohio, population 1,739. I had to add that as a nod to my favorite childhood show Hee-Haw.

I was very pensive about meeting with these folks and apparently the feeling was mutual. Not wanting to walk into a hornet’s nest of negative spirits, they invited me to their home on safe ground where another person would meet us and they could assess the situation. I explained very little about my involvement in the paranormal not wanting to influence their perceptions through suggestion. Just a thumb nail sketch to see where they went with it. Surprisingly they weren’t concerned with where I had been as much as they were with where I am now and what was with me. I held my cards close to my chest.

After a brief discussion, Doug Mcllwain, president of The Great Serpent Mound Chapter of The American Society of Dowsers, suggested we go downstairs and, “See what we’re dealing with.” I had contacted Doug at the prompting of Debra Rogers, of Spirit Wind Trading Post. She had faith in this group’s ability to cleanse property and people of negative activity because they dealt specifically with paranormal issues. I had no idea what I was in for, but this had the pull of destiny on my heart.

Once downstairs Doug used a single dowsing rod to determine my aura and he started at the top of my head and slowly moved the rod parallel to the front of my body until it touched the ground about four feet out. He repeated the step several times and they seemed impressed with the size of my aura. I noticed that the rod dipped in significantly towards my chest as it passed my line of sight. Doug mentioned to his assistant, Jim that he thought my throat chakra was blocked. Jim assessed the situation and stated he believed it was the heart chakra that needed work. Doug passed the rod once again down my aura and it dipped towards my chest. They both confirmed that it was indeed my heart chakra. I was amazed. A fellow employee, Kristin Love, had told me that she believed I needed a heart chakra cleansing since I had all this difficulty with atrial fib. Whenever the Universe repeats anything on our path it is imperative we heed the sign. I then confirmed that I had indeed been having heart trouble with the last two weeks being severe. They chuckled as if they didn’t need my confirmation.

Standing me next to a white wall and dimming the lights, they began looking at my aura reflecting off the wall. I felt vulnerable standing there and slightly foolish. I thought of making light of the situation by asking for flowers in the morning, but I kept my smart mouth shut for once. This had that hum of seriousness and these men were taking the time to help me and I knew they were receiving more than I knew from the spirit world.

They agreed among themselves what the best course of action was and started to work. After anointing my chakra locations with frankincense and myrrh, Doug poured Epsom salt in a metal container and filled it with alcohol then lit it. He had me stand in front of the flames. This allowed the heat to bath me which began the cleansing process. After awhile I turned and allowed the flames to rise up my back. Once this portion of the ritual was complete they tested me for spirit possession, unbeknownst to me.

Doug had me interlock my fingers and raise my arms up parallel to the floor. He told me to resist him as he attempted to shove my arms down. They didn’t move. Jim then placed his left hand on my tail bone and his right hand at the base of my neck and began energy work. While he was doing this Jim sprayed me with Red Raven Organic Florida Water from his mouth. I had one man with his hand on my ass and another blowing kisses (now I really wanted flowers in the morning).

I felt a burning travel up my spine and after a few minutes he nodded that energy was flowing quite between his hands. Doug asked me to repeat the interlocking of my fingers and instructed me to resist his pushing down of my arms once again. They didn’t move. Doug smiled and gave me two thumbs up. I was busting inside with questions and I had to ask what all this meant? He explained that if I had an attachment or negative spirit within me then after receiving an opening of my chakras I wouldn’t be able to resist his downward push of my arms. Apparently those that do have an internal possession are extremely weak after this process and can’t hold their arms up and often times collapse to the floor.

Feeling jazzed I wasn’t Regan from The Exorcist we then moved to the next phase of the cleansing. Jim pulled out a Bowie knife and began working from my head to the soles of my feet as if spiritually shaving whatever was tethered to me concentrating on the heart area specifically. They believed I had a spirit tethered to me from some location. Spirits do not necessarily have to attach physically to you according to their opinion; they can simple tether a connection and draw energy from you. If prayer or blessings can be sent remotely then why can’t the opposite be true?

Once that was complete, Doug approached me with a 16th century sword. This looked strangely familiar. He began cutting the air around me to ensure that all connections attached to me were cut. He then held his hand over my heart and said he would continue to open up my heart chakra until his hand stopped vibrating. Confident that all was right he tested my aura again and there was only a slight dip towards my heart chakra. I felt like my old self.

Upstairs we socialized and discussed dowsing and cryptozoology topics. I felt right at home. Feeling as if these were trustworthy men I shared my dream concerning the Eucharist. They listened attentively in silence until I was finished. More silence followed and I thought I would let it hang there until a response was forthcoming. They exchanged glances and stated that in the Native American culture what I had would be considered quite a vision and that I needed to pursue it with everything I had. I assured them that I would and already planned to attend an Episcopalian Church for the Eucharist the following morning. They seemed very pleased by this. Since their response was positive, I also spoke of my second dream where a Mexican looking man caught me after I stumbled out of the back door having battled something ferocious inside. I describe the sword he was holding and the colors of the decapitated snake under his right foot. This brought a low whistle of amazement. “You saw that type of sword tonight and we cut a poisonous tie attached to you.” Doug also explained that he had been trained by South American shaman and that could be the reason the man looked Mexican to me. There are no accidents. Each man believed I had a prophetic dream that led me to them.

We spent the rest of my time there talking about different dowsing instruments. They showed me one that cost three hundred dollars and didn’t work worth a damn and a plastic one that cost two dollars that was the best they ever used. I was floored that plastic would work having believed that hazel, ash, rowan, and willow had to be used exclusively on the wood side and copper and aluminum were the only successful metals. But Doug relayed what an old dowser told him that, “You are the instrument, not the material.” I had to try it and separated the plastic rods until a “V” pointed skyward. I walked around the kitchen until the point shot to the ground. I couldn’t have stopped it if I wanted to. Doug informed me that was the location of the main water line 14 feet below us. I still get jazzed when my preconceived notions are bashed to pieces. Returning home Rosie commented that my spirit was completely different. I feel freed.

I plan on attending the next monthly gathering of The American Society of Dowsers. I feel this is opening up a whole new world of possibilities. My grandpa would be proud.

For more information on dowsing visit...

American Society of Dowsers