Turmeric

The flower of turmeric is lovely

I saw it at Mother's Market, on display next to the garlic and ginger: organic turmeric, $11.99 a pound.

It 'talked' to me; that is, my intuition kicked in and told me to buy it. This was on Wednesday. The orange color looked funny, and I didn't want to buy it; I passed.

That night, my cold worsened and my asthma started to act up. I barely slept..

On Friday, I was talking with friends trying to seek some holistic remedies. The antibiotics I had started were not really working--I always have some available, this has been like this since medical school. Multiple, chronic infections of the sinuses.

Not one but two friends recommended Turmeric.

I went back to the store and I bought it:

It looks just like this. Thinking back, medicine, and even turmeric capsules, cost a lot more than organic fresh!

Anyhow, I put it in the blender, about two thumb sizes, with water, ice, and sweetener.  Maple doesn't quite cover up the taste, neither did honey, but just now, honey AND raw apple made it the most mild flavor yet.

I am starting to 'turn around' in my illness. The powerful anti-inflammatory effect is starting to kick in. It is like prednisone shot, but no prednisone and no shot. 

I drink it twice a day.

What do experts have to say about Turmeric? Well, I saw something 'medical' that said there are fourteen different 'medical things good' about Turmeric. That's what got me thinking about it in the first place.

Here is Dr. Weil: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/andrew-weil-md/turmeric-health-have-a-happy-new-year_b_798328.html

Here is Mother Nature Network: http://www.mnn.com/food/healthy-eating/stories/the-amazing-health-benefits-of-turmeric

Here is a picture of how they prepare it in the fields:

And here is the final product. This spice is used in curry in India, where Alzheimer's is less:

 Guess what Dr. Weil won't tell you, but I can?

Turmeric is what makes mustard yellow.

And when mustard stains cotton, and a black light hits the stain, it looks like this:

It glows! Turmeric glows in the dark--well, at least under special lighting.  I used to love to see that while working in the stain room when I worked for Clorox. When nobody was around and I was working in there, I would turn on those special lights just to see how cool it looked, and then get back to working.

Speaking of mustard, here are the seeds:

They are really tiny:

But they end up being one of the biggest plants, one that might even be taller than me:

From what I understand the greens of this plant are also very healthy for us to eat.

Intuition is like the 'faith of the mustard seed'. It alerted me to the value of the raw organic turmeric at the store. I didn't buy it blindly, but I looked into it, checked around, and decided to try it at home.

I am delighted with the results! Enough to share the therapeutic value of Turmeric with you.

I hope with all of this turmeric I don't start to glow--under the right lighting--LOL.

Namaste,

Reiki Doc

P.S. This is my recipe and I am sticking to it!
two 'thumbs' of turmeric, fresh organic, raw (my thumbs are tiny)
two apricots, skin on, seeds out
honey, a good long pour
water to cover
a pinch of Himalayan Pink Salt

Blend at low speed to combine, then high speed until a consistency of a melted 50/50 bar.

Enjoy! (Makes about twelve ounces of 'smoothie')

We Do The Best We Can

I made these cannoli for Christmas two years ago; Nana was very pleased. 

One day I want to make the cassata just like her masterpiece.

Yesterday I went to spend time with my Nana Angelina, my Sicilian Grandmother. She is in a nursing home, in the residential section. Her house was sold to pay for her long-term care. Nana is ninety, and has Alzheimer's that is end-stage. They wanted us to put her on Hospice, but we said no because her caregivers like her and she is doing well because she is familiar with them. We did not want to add 'another layer of care' as they described. Since then, I have learned that utilization of Hospice care by patients who are state-funded has gone up over two hundred percent in the last three years. It is a big money-maker for nursing homes and home-health care programs. Use your head when you decide whether to enroll your loved one on Hospice or not--it could be a scam. Let your Heart Center direct you to the proper decision--my sister and I 'smelled a rat' and said 'no' from our hearts because of it. Nana is still no code, or DNR, according to my mother's wishes when she signed for her admission papers to the place.

I came in at four in the afternoon, and found her distressed. She was saying in Italian she couldn't understand why her son had disrespected her by ignoring her after all the money she gave him? She wanted us to make plans to go out to eat and buy him a big steak so he would come. She also asked me to write an 'important letter' to get him. She said she calls for him all day, and he never comes. (He and his girlfriend spent all of nana's money, and were starving nana to inherit the house sooner--the family AND the state-- intervened). 

To distract her, I asked, 'Would you like to smell something beautiful?' and I took out my vial of Chakra from around my neck. She smiled when she sniffed it, and said, 'It is good.' I put a small dot of it with my finger on her third eye. It stopped her train of thought and allowed me to change the conversation. I showed her pictures of the nespoli and peaches and flowers in the garden. I showed her my boy getting his next belt in his Martial Art. I hugger her and kissed her until she was happy and smiling again. I even got her beautiful energy of love in her smile on camera, too. One day I will share it, but not now, for her privacy. She is not the kind of person who would want her image all over the internet. She is most modest in every way.

I also gave Reiki as I touched her arm and put lotion on her hands and face. I didn't let her know I was doing it, I just did. I gave the Transition symbol, like I always do. Two months ago, Blessed Mother asked me to give Nana to her, and put her hand in hers. I did, and it has taken the worry from me on how much time she has left. I know who will be with her when it is her time, and I trust completely.

Her tray arrived at five fifteen. It is only blended foods and thickened liquids. Everything smelled terrible.I tried feeding nana, but I was not good at it. She hated everything. I put a small amount in each spoonful, made a big 'Ahhh!' to get her to open her mouth, and it went in. The blended meat stank. She said it was 'too hard' and spit out the meat residue into a napkin. She has difficulty swallowing. It was scary to help her drink because I was not sure how much was going in, and I didn't want to give too much. She told me to get the nurse. I apologized and went for help.

While we waited,  I thanked her for the good times, and talked about the foods she used to make me when I was little and she watched me. The risu (a risotto) she made me every day for lunch which I ate with delight. The orange julius. The toast. The tiny bottles of purple grape juice she had in the door of the refrigerator just for me. Then she looked at me and asked, 'how many eggs do you want?'. She asked me that every morning, making me soft-boiled eggs where I would dip little pieces of bread into the yolks. I felt a glimmer of joy and said my part, 'I want three!' (she was always trying to get me to eat better, for I was too thin. I marveled at how our roles in life had reversed.)

Then I started crying.

She asked, why are you crying? 

I said 'I wish I was a little girl again. Your home was the most wonderful place for me. You kept it so clean and welcoming. I always felt warm and safe. You are the only one that ever understood me Nana. If you had not been good to me when I was with you, everything else in my life was so hard I would have become a mess! If it wasn't for your example, and kindness, I never would have made it through medical school and been able to do what I do for people now. My job is dangerous, Nana. I could never have done it if it wasn't for you. I feel bad that now I work and I am not able to give you the kind 

of care you had given to me. I don't stay at home. I have to support my son.'

She said, 'Don't cry, you'll make me cry. I never ever ever want for you to cry'. 

I asked her, 'Nana, look at us now? What are we going to do? Having you here is terrible! (no one ever came to feed her. I was going to have to go ask again. The warm food was cold and the ice cream was melted.)'

She looked me straight in the eye and said, 'We do the best we can. We don't write the book. HE writes the book. But WE are the ones that go and live it. We do the best we can'.

The words were like soothing balm to my soul, especially hearing it from Nana, who I love so much. I stopped crying. I remembered how as a young mother she had to run to the caves when the bombing strikes hit in the war. Nannu was fighting in battle far away. There was not enough food, and my mother told me that Nana never ate. She always said she wasn't hungry. Everyone was starving. They even ate rats if they were lucky enough to catch them. They always had flour because her mother, Nana Peppina, owned a bakery. But when the neighbors came to the door to ask for flour, Nana had to lie because there was only enough for them. She was the strongest single mother of all, and these words must have helped her to survive. 

I got a nurse to help feed her. Nana has to be reminded to swallow several times with every bite. When she stops eating, that is it. There will be no G-tube feedings like her roommate. The only thing keeping her alive is the kindness of her nurse. She takes the protein shake and adds ice cream to it to get her to eat. She knows Nana likes sweets.

After six, the sun was starting to go down. I have a long drive back home. Nana has a beautiful window next to her bed. I explained to her and the nurse who was feeding her that I wanted to get home before it was dark. Nana completely understood, and smiled. I kissed her, and said, 'Ciao!' She said, 'Ciao and Arrividerci'.

Namaste,

Reiki Doc

Preferred Customer H Heaven

Today I went to see Nana Angelina.

Overnight she had gotten an i.v. She looked better. She looked at me when I said her name. There was no conversation.

I held her hand and just sat.

When some time had passed, I got out my Mango Shea Butter Hand Repair Moisturizer, and most importantly, my 5/8 dram of aromatherapy oil called 'Peace'.

I rubbed lotion into both of her hands. I couldn't tell if she liked it, but I knew she didn't DIS-like it. I was careful not to hurt her arthritic hands.

I am not a massage therapist. I took a class back in the nineties once. But what I did next was totally made up, borrowing from Yoga Bill my instructor and Ed who does my hair--I massaged Nana Angelina's head and neck and shoulders. I anointed her with the aromatherapy oil in the spots where Spirit guided. At the first whiff of the scent, Nana smiled, closed her eyes, and relaxed as I worked the oils in.

Her poor neck and shoulders were tight. It must have been painful for her to have them so tight. Although she didn't let out a big yoga 'ahhhhhh' sigh, I could tell she was experiencing relief from her pain.

Then I put both the lotion and oils on her feet that don't walk any more, at least, not without assistance. They look like my feet in shape and size. Mother actually gave me some of her shoes and they fit. They are higher quality than what I am used to. It was like looking into the future, as I worked on her feet with my hands.

Of course the whole time I gave Reiki. That goes without saying. : )

When it was time to go, I gave her a hug.
She hugged back.
She pursed her lips because she wanted a kiss.
I smiled, hugged and kissed her some more, and told her how wonderful a nana she has been to me. That is why I love her.

The entity I call 'the Buddhist' visited me again last night. The one that I have an assignment with, like ahead of us in time. He wanted to clarify his point he made yesterday: the love I feel for her is real. It is the ONLY thing that is real in the Illusion of Duality.

Because of this I was able to go to her, to honor her, and to anoint her with the very highest Vibration there is in Spirit: the vibration of PEACE.

It was healing for both of us.

When the mind is gone so much that one is robbed of the ability to speak, what remains is the ability to love and be loved back. Through all of her deteriorating Alzheimer's disease and emaciated body, Nana knew she was loved today. And wanted me to know I was loved back. Love is the Solution for Everything. Love is a Force of Nature. Love is like Breath. It just is.

You can't control who you love, or why. Only to accept the gift of Love when it arrives  into your life.

Always accept it.

To me Reiki is Love in Action. So is Anesthesia, when it is my life's work.

Love is the Solution For Everything.

Namaste, namaste, namaste,

Reiki Doc


P.S. The title of this post is from the license plate frame of a car in front of me on the freeway onramp. Spirit wanted it to be the title. So there it is. <3

P.P.S. The oil is available through www.peacefullscents.com . Peace was a limited edition, but I think if you contact PeacefullScents they will let you know what other choices are available besides the ones on the website. They are a Godsend to me. Here is the link:www.peacefullscents.com

Arcus Senilis

I did a twenty-four hour call on L&D, submitted the hours for the OB team for on-call stipend, caught up with my billing slips before the deadline for the week to turn them in, spent time on the phone with my sister, saw mom (speaking with her doctor and her case manager), and saw Nana. There was about six hours of sleep (a good night!) in the OB Anesthesia Call Room. But before it was a busy day. I was on my feet from 7 a.m. till 11 p.m.

I had wanted to make this post 'Post-Call 101' but thought against it.

Instead I will share you the coolest things that happened from 'On The Other Side'.

A patient laughed when I was playing with her epidural pump and talking to it. I talk to everything! She and her husband caught me as I was working with it to get it to stop its alarm beep. I said that everything has a personality, and when you live and work with pumps, you have to learn how to fin-a-gle with them to get them to go.

She shared that her mom had had a TPN pump, and even though she wasn't a nurse, she had to 'fin-a-gle' with it too.

'Was it a Kangaroo pump?' I asked. Kangaroo pumps are the kind used for G-tube enteral feeds.
Nope. It was TPN, the real deal. Her mother died of cancer maybe, ten years ago.

A wave of compassion washed over me. 'Mom had'...'died of cancer'...no mom for this important time in her life...  I drew up my courage, and opened up about my mom. I asked about end-of-life 'conversations', and how to know when 'your mom is done' because we are grappling with these issues. She smiled and said her mom 'let her know what she wanted' and 'was an old O.R. nurse' from the exact same hospital I volunteered in when I was sixteen. As a matter of fact, when she was born, I may have wheeled her mom and her out to the car as that was one of my duties as a volunteer.

In the O.R., during the section, I saw her mother in the room that connects the two O.R.'s on L&D, looking in. She said, 'I am so happy and proud to share this moment! This is my first grandchild! THANK YOU!' she rubbed her hands with glee and an excited smile.

After the baby was born, and the father was off cutting the cord, I wiped the tears from my patient's face. 'There are happy tears, I hope?' I asked, gently. She nodded yes. I knew why those tears were there. I didn't know how to bring it up. But then inspiration overcame me, and I leaned in, looked her in the eye, and said, 'I don't know how to say it but I feel your mother is here right now. Do you feel her? I think she wouldn't have wanted it any other way than to be in the O.R. for the birth. I feel like she is very excited and proud.' The new mother nodded vigorously, and I could 'sense' that she had been feeling the same energies too, the 'connection', and appreciated my sharing and validating them. The said, 'THANK YOU' and sighed a big sigh of relief.

When it was time for pictures, the dad had a fancy Canon EOS. As I took photos of them meeting the baby, I stepped back to get the anteroom where I had seen mother into the frame. I hope they find a great big orb in them when they process the digital images at home.

_______________________________________________________

I am in the nursing home at Nana Angelina's bed. She is on her left side. Her respiratory rate is high, her breathing rate is shallow, and she is not responsive. I check her pulse, it is thready, and fast. She has stopped wanting to eat. I spoke with the nurse, who says she won't open her mouth to be fed. It doesn't look good. She is in the early stages of dying, as far as I can tell.

I sat. I looked at the woman I knew, and started to cry over her. She didn't know who I am. She had wasted to bones and skin. Both her son and daughter rejected her (mother and she had a strained relationship, and mother said today she wants to 'avoid guilt' and 'concentrate on her own health'--which I do not fault her.). This is the woman who smiles like the sun, and kisses the hands of those who care for her, Nana. I put my head on her shoulder, held her frail body that was still warm, and sobbed.

Memories of our past flooded over me. How she held me until I would fall asleep as a baby. How she worked with me to find something I could eat because I was too thin. How she made risotto for me every day for lunch. And how she would try to fatten me up by sneaking an egg into my 'Orange Julius' and I would always call her on it and make her bring me a new one without the egg.

She opened her eye. The sparkling brown was somehow different. It looked grey around the edges of the iris. What was it? I thought long and hard why it would look 'different'. Then I remembered--it was arcus senilis, the pigmentation change around the ring of the eye in the geriatric patient.

A spirit came to me. A buddhist one. He saw. He said, this is only an illusion. What is real is she is energy, just like you, and she is suffering now. She is deciding when and how to leave her body and move on to the next 'lesson'. What is real is that you will always be together. I know this is hard for you, but this is illusion.

A wave of energy came over me, a wave of consciousness. And I saw much of my tears was guilt at not having been closer to Nana because of my education and my work. I relaxed and sighed in relief.

Immediately next a column of energy went through my entire body. I was in the astral plane. I sensed why I was there, and what I had to do. I had to help Nana cross. I adjusted my energy. 'Gioia! What are you doing here?' Nana's spirit said. We were both 'outside out bodies' technically. I can come and go from mine, and she was between both worlds herself. She greeted me, and looked about thirty years younger.

'I have someone who wants to meet you', I said kindly, and took her right hand in mine. Blessed Mother glided over to me. This was a first. Usually I have to walk to her. I placed Nana's hand in Blessed Mother's, with complete and total trust. I had done this hundreds of times for others. Who else should do this for Nana but me?

But something else was different: Blessed Mother invited me to come, and to hold Nana's left hand. Together we walked through the tunnel. At the other end, I saw Nanu Filippo.

'Filippo! Is that YOU?' Nana cried out, and ran over to him. Blessed Mother looked at me, and we both watched. Nana started yelling at her husband, 'Where have you been? I have been so worried about you!' just like she used to do when he would come home from his work on construction and she was cooking dinner. Nanu had flowers for her, and looked very handsome, very happy, and very quiet to see her. He never once made eye contact with me.

Blessed Mother told me there was a tunnel that would be open between both worlds until Nana could decide about her transition. She thanked me for my help, and gestured to my right.

There was a wall, whiter than white, that looked like the Gates of Heaven I had seen when Father passed. There was an angel of some kind there. He had a message for me, and knelt down (he was T-A-L-L!). I think it was St. Michael. I forget the message, unfortunately, but it seemed helpful and wise. I was impressed. And he said there was not much time for me, and I had to go. I thanked him and everyone profusely for taking good care of Nana for me. Now I recall the message: I was also told that Buddhist and I have an assignment. He was waiting for me. And that Nana would have one of her own too. But because we both have unfinished business due to my training, we would have 'copies' of one another and freedom to 'send those copies' to each other to continue to finish out our relationship and enjoy each other throughout all of time. (I wanted to go back into her kitchen and learn how to make more of her recipes, not just the ones I know).

As I drove home, I felt a tremendous sense of Peace.

With Love in Spirit and in Light, I share with you my Blessings.

Namaste,

Reiki Doc

My Queen

These are Nana's flowers, they come back every year.

I have been thinking about my Nana Angelina a lot lately. I felt a pulling to go visit her. Mom said 'she has not been doing very good lately.' I wasn't surprised. I only get that urge to visit someone right before they transition, or cross, to the Other Side.

This was my one day off. I wanted to be kind to me, with some much needed 'me time',  and go to the beach. But my work had a meeting, at eight a.m. Mom lives nearby, and I had the family portrait photographs to give to everyone anyway. I stopped by. Our visit consisted of me bringing her two bean and cheese burritos and an enchirito from Taco Bell for lunch 'for her craving of Mexican food', and her bringing out the fruit. In our family, fruit is love. And wasting fruit is a sin. There is not other way around it.

My grandfather, who I call, Nanu, apprenticed to take care of the orchards back in Sicily. He is where I get the psychic gift from. He is part Irish. Mom has it, so do I, my oldest boy, and my niece. The garden is what I have known since before I could walk. He is long passed now, but mom had fresh figs for me she had been saving. I enjoyed them very much. I picked oranges from her tree with the fruit picker. In the California sunshine, even though it was a 100F day, we felt love and at home in the back yard.

After visiting with mom, I drove twenty minutes away to visit with Nana Angelina. She has Alzheimer's, and recently has chosen not to eat. My Uncle, who is her caregiver, forces her to drink juice. But when I saw her, I was shocked by how much weight she as lost. She used to be a good eater. Anorexia is one of the last stages of the disease.

I wasn't sure if she would recognize me. Sometimes she does, and sometimes she thinks I am a classmate of hers from San Biagio Platani, the village she grew up in outside of Agrigento, back in the Old Country.

As I came up to the front door, through the security screen I could see her, in her red dress, sitting in a wheelchair, owlish glasses in place. She recognized me at once, calling me by name, and exclaiming, 'Is that you, my beautiful granddaughter?!' We hugged and kissed to say hello, and I had to choke back the tears of gratitude for this blessing of her calling me by name.

I sat next to her and held her hand. She had a Parkinsonian tremor of both her hands and her feet that was new. My Uncle and I helped her try to go to the bathroom three separate times, standing her up from the wheelchair, exchanging the chair for the port-a-potty, pulling the dress up and the diaper down, and waiting. She did not urinate all afternoon. It is a strange thing, a responsibility, to help with the diaper of someone who had once taken care of your own.

But we talked. She wanted me to get to the store to buy flour and yeast to make bread. This made sense to me, because her mother had once owned a bakery in the village. I told her it was too hot to bake, and that we would bake tomorrow.

Again, she was concerned. I remembered that dough had to rise, and she was concerned about it taking too long. So I reassured her that everything was okay. She turned to me, with a conspiratorial smile and said, 'Don't make two loaves today. Make three. Make an extra one for you.'

Later, she asked, 'Is this Saturday or Sunday?', which is a huge indicator of alertness and orientation for someone in her condition. (Alert and Oriented times three is a medical term for knowing the date, your name, your location) I was impressed. 'It is Saturday, Nana. It is Saturday.' 'Okay' she said, and settled down.

Then she started to tell me about the lady in the pretty dress, how she saw 'pictures in front of her eyes' and 'there were lots of people there'. As Reiki Doc, I knew what it was. She is halfway here, and halfway on The Other Side. She was seeing angels. My father dreamed of his own parents two weeks before his death. My intuition and gut instinct to go to Nana had been right.

Uncle told me she had fallen out of her chair the night before. She wanders out of bed, and does not like to lay down. He found her on the floor, next to the chair, asleep. Because of a hand injury, he couldn't lift her back up. He put a pillow under her head, and placed a blanket on her. He got her up in the morning. He thinks at this rate she won't last a month.

I said a very special goodbye to her today. With lots of hugs and kisses. I took a movie, and photos. I promised to come back. I kissed her three times, and asked her if she knows I love her so much am just crazy about her? She smiled. And then she asked me to go to the store to buy bread. Three loaves, not two, with an extra one just for me.

On the way to the car, I broke down. My Uncle calmed me. I asked him if he knows how much I loved him, and how he is the only one that knows me, really knows me, on this Earth?. The only one that comes close is my oldest boy. He said 'yes. Be safe on the road.' and wanted me to go on my way.

I put my Jackie Onassis sunglasses on, and bawling, put the car in drive, honked the horn, and drove away.

On the freeway, almost at the hospital, I heard my Nanu's voice, saying, 'My Queen, my queen, my queen'. That was my nickname he had always called me. I know he is looking forward to being with her in a short time. And I know he is looking after me too.

When I got home, I called mom to let her know I was safe. She couldn't believe it, the conversation that I had with Nana Angelina! She hadn't spoken a single word in a week, and not recognized ANYBODY.

You know what else? Mom felt the presence of Nanu when I had come to her house. We both hadn't felt him in about eight years.

Being a Medium does not take the pain of saying 'goodbye' away. It gives hope that there is some contact that continues. I hurt, just like anybody else. I said goodbye to my beloved angel, my Nana Angelina today. And I gave Reiki the entire time I was touching her. The Transition Symbol too.

Reiki helps in so many ways...

Namaste,

Reiki Doc