Carnival Therapy

7/18/07

“In another place villagers were seen dancing to drums and trumpets, and on being asked the reason, answered that, seeing their neighbors die day after day while their village remained immune, they believed that they could keep the plague from entering, by the ‘jollity that is in us. That is why we dance.’”
The Black Death –Barbara Tuchman


I know “new age mumbo jumbo” sounds harsh, but let's face it, visualizing my disease from the viewpoint of Dirty Harry or Mr. Rogers is probably just as ineffectual as the rituals of those “jollity” medievals who attached glass jars with wasps in them to the tumors of their brethren.

Ah, visualization. As if we could imagine illness away. We’re relieved to know that our dreams have nothing to do with realty, yet heartily endorse the folly that a sort of fictional clairvoyance, mind over matter, can affect a cure. Through visualization I can ride the train through the villages of Lymph, stopping to become friends with the glandular denizens. Over an afternoon tea of Sheep Sorrel, Turkey Rhubarb, Slippery Elm, and Burdock Root we can discuss remissions, the merits of a chronic truce, and the always hoped for peaceful remission. Cancer’s my friend.

Grrrr. Cancer’s my enemy! Bad cancer! Heel! I said heel! I’ll set up a network of spies in Lymph and sabotage the plans of the axis of evil. Ala James Bond I will unleash the forces of Tositumomab on the evildoers. Marshalling all of the metaphors I can muster I will eliminate the vermin within me. I’ll launch a blitzkrieg on the very word used to launch blitzkriegs and surges. I will be the one who invades and colonizes. The side-effects of Chemo will hereafter be referred to as collateral damage. Sontag writes, “The modern disease metaphors are all cheap shots….The cancer metaphor is particularly crass. It is invariably an encouragement to simplify what is complex and an invitation to self-righteousness, if not to fanaticism.”

Flash! I just got a call from a concerned new age friend. Seriously. “Randy, you live in the city of healers.” I thought, yeah, you're right. Ann Arbor has one of the best research hospitals in the world. But I knew where she was going. “All illness comes from blocked energy within the body.” Oh really? We’ve got alt-country and alt-rock, why not alt-science. Alt sounds so much better than pseudo. She continued. “The blocked energy must be released and moved from the body. I have the number of a shamanic healer who can help you. I’ll give it to you.” Pure Belgian snake oil, bottom fermented. I know, if it helps it’s good. Please, spare me the bio-feedback. Gotta go!