MY TIME IN OZ

Arriving twenty minutes early for my iridology appointment this morning, I sat ill at ease in the waiting room of the alternative health centre. Signs denoting the prices of procedures I’d never heard of like foot detox and ear coning only added to my discomfort. The wall behind the reception desk was filled with framed diplomas for certified reiki masters and aromatherapists issued from colleges like Spa Tech Institute and the Southwest School of Healing Arts. Not terribly convincing!

As I watched a steady stream of clients arriving for massages or buying health care products, I realized what a lucrative business this must be.

Finally it was my turn to enter the alternative medical universe, this land of Oz. Joanne Smith welcomed me into her small office. She was a tall woman in her late fifties with an angular jogger’s frame. Her well tanned face was just as wrinkled as mine suggesting her preference for tanning beds over botox.

“So, what brings you to see me today?” she asked in a lovely lilting voice.

Her Irish accent wasn’t the only thing that was attractive about her.

“Well, I’m here at the suggestion of a friend,” I stammered. “Can’t say I’m comfortable doing this. I’m kind of a skeptic when it comes to this type of thing.”

"That’s because you’re stubborn,” she replied matter of factly. I thought back to my son’s use of the very same adjective to describe me a few days earlier. Maybe she was a wizard.

“OK, just lean forward and let me have a look,” she said.

Peering into my right eye with the help of a magnifying glass, she immediately said,

“Looks like you’ve just had a cold or are coming down with the flu. I see some real irritation here.” I guess my morning jog didn’t register on her eye radar.

“I can also see you’ve got a bad back, likely the result of a serious sports injury. Does that sound about right?” she inquired.

“Not really,” I replied, taking some measure of pleasure seeing her go 0 for 2. “I played some hockey and football in my day but never suffered more than a few bumps and bruises. No broken bones thank goodness.”

“Well, I do see a few lesions in the spinal area. What you say doesn’t fit what I see.”

I didn’t have the heart to say that maybe she should be looking at my back, not my eye for evidence to support her claim.

“I also see migraine headaches. Have they been a problem for you?”

“I’ve never had a headache in my life,” I replied. She didn’t realize that she was dealing with a former iron man.

Unfazed by my responses, she explained that some of her findings could be the precursors of future problems.

“Wait a minute,” I interrupted. “Can you tell me something good from what you’re seeing?”

“Well, you have a high pain tolerance and a strong heart. I think you must be a runner.”

Now I wondered if she looking at my legs, not my eyes.

She continued with a litany of ills ranging from acid reflux to arthritis as she peered into my left eye.

Her batting average continued well below the Mendoza line until it happened. She hit one right over the green monster when she said,

“I can see you have lymphatic drainage problem, particularly in the area of your right lung.”

“Touch ’em all Jo,” I thought to myself as I tried not to betray my surprise.

The wizard must have heard Tom Cheek’s call playing in my head.

“That’s a hit isn’t it? she said gently.

I nodded.

Relaxing back in her chair, the assessment now over, Joanne asked,

“Now, why are you really here?”

I realized that she’d played this game before and was more than ready for my post game comments.

“I came to see if you could detect the fact that I’m in remission from cancer, from lymphoma actually.”

Without gloating over her home run, she turned her attention to dietary changes I should make to improve my overall health, including adopting a gluten free diet. She also mentioned a few natural remedies like hops and mistletoe to shrink tumours as well as a product called Graviola XP. To her credit, she didn’t pressure me into buying anything. She encouraged me to start juicing to get more minerals into my body, something I had done in my marathoning days. Apart from the mistletoe, I think her advice was sound albeit a bit generic.

Finally, she asked that I return in a few months for some follow up.

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” I said kindly. “I do thank you for your time, for your suggestions, and for your professionalism. But hey, you said it yourself, I’m stubborn.”

The wizard of eyes took both my hands in hers, smiled knowingly and said,

“I knew you’d say that but thanks for your honesty. I wish you the best of luck.”

She knew as well as I that I didn’t belong in Oz and that I don’t believe in wizards.