A Secret Grave 9: In the Treatment Room

.

As I lay down on Dr. Goodlove’s examination table, he explained to me that he used a variety of treatments depending on the patient’s symptoms. His favorite was light wave therapy, but he also used vibrational medicine, acupuncture, sound wave therapy, and something called a Scenar that had been developed by Russian scientists for use by astronauts in outer space. It all sounded like b.s. to me, but I thought of Margot’s daughter with her baffling case of alopecia and of the stabbing pain I was experiencing in my wrists and fingers and counseled myself to have an open mind, Nicole, and lie there as peacefully as a lamb about to be shorn of its curls and see what happened.

.

IMG_2307

.

I hadn’t told Goodlove what my symptoms were, but he named them the moment he looked at my tongue and checked my pulse. “Ah, yes, arthritis,” he said with the excitement of a boy finding grubs beneath a rock. “We can fix that. Also a few little things in the digestive tract. Ok, let’s get started.” What followed is hard to explain. There were the lights which suddenly flooded the room and which I could sense despite the dark glasses covering my face. There was the Scenar which seemed to pump heat and electricity into my aching wrists.

.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

.

But much more than that, there was Victor Goodlove himself, who seemed to turn into someone else – some kind of elevated being – as he worked on me. Just the touch of his hand sent a charge through my body and I want to be very clear here that it wasn’t a sexual charge or even the charge of well-being one might get from a massage therapist or PT. No, this was electrical, something he emitted that immediately made me feel as if every cell and fiber in my body had come alive and was whirring purposefully like all the tiny parts of one of those large frame computers. But the weirdest part was me, not Goodlove. Within moments of his laying his hands on me, I started talking compulsively and couldn’t stop. An outpouring of words such as I’d never experienced, ideas, thoughts, plans, worries, rolling off my tongue as if they couldn’t escape my system quickly enough. And you know what? It felt good… almost euphoric. I could have lain on that table for hours, my body purring happily as I rid myself of a whole lifetime’s worth of mental detritus.

.

IMG_5849

.

It seemed like the session was over within seconds even though an hour had passed. Afterwards I felt woozy and had to sit down in a chair in the waiting room for a few minutes before I could go out to my car. Dr. Goodlove (who asked me to please call him Victor) advised me that it would take a minimum of six treatments to cure my problem and that I would get a discount if I booked a series of ten. “Drink a lot of water,” he said. “Go home and rest.” He accompanied me to my car where I continued to sit for quite awhile, dazedly staring into space. And then, just as I was about to switch on my engine, a black Lincoln Town Car zoomed into the lot – presumably Victor’s next client – and I decided to wait and see who emerged.

.

chauffeur

Chauffeur, ukg.photographer, https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/

.

To be continued…

.

Cover Photo ~ 358/365, Tarah, https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *