A friend called me last night to tell me that a mutual friend had been in a car wreck. No, she wasn’t hurt. And she had had a couple of drinks, but she’s a big girl and can hold her liquor, usually. Didn’t know what she blew, but the cops ordered a blood test on top of the Booze-O-Meter, unusual. And you know the funny thing was, she ran into the guard rail three separate times before she finally lost it and flipped over. She refused to go to the hospital though, refused all care at the scene.
And there’s more, says my friend. T_ is a massage therapist, a very good one with a large practice, and lately she’s been falling asleep right in the middle of giving a massage. My mind snaps into place here. Falling asleep GETTING a massage: yes. Falling asleep GIVING a massage: no, no, NO. Brains do not do that under normal circumstances.
What else? Oh, there have been some minor problems with memory, a large recent weight gain, headaches, double vision…
STOP! Stop there. My mind says brain tumor. That is ALL my mind says. In fact, it doesn’t say it, it SCREAMS it. She must go to the emergency room NOW.
She has a doctor appointment in June for the headaches, my friend says.
That’s very nice. She can keep that appointment when it gets to be June. It’s the beginning of May now, and she must go to the emergency room TODAY. NOW.
OK, says my friend, who has been my acupuncture client since 1998 and knows that tone of voice. OK, she says, I’ll go and get her.
This morning I wake up to an email from my friend. T_ has been transported by ambulance from our little local hospital to the big regional hospital. They’ve been there all night. The brain tumor is huge and pushing on her pituitary gland, among other things. Won’t know what kind it is until the biopsy. They’re still doing all the preliminary workup.
Thank G-d she called me.
I wonder why the Creator, if there is one, and in these cases I must say it fuels my doubt, took me out of my profession by way of my illness. S/he gave me, as my birthright, a degree of intuition that could be called Second Sight. I don’t need to hear more than two or three sentences regarding a case, if it’s a fresh one, and I nearly always have the diagnosis right in front of my eyes like a movie marquis. It is a great grief that my ability to practice medicine, which I worked so hard to achieve, was snatched away from me.
The Sight was what propelled me into medicine. And yes, there are still times, like this one, where someone in need will call me and I can help them.
It’s a beautiful gift, but a cruel judgement against me that I don’t get to use it on a daily basis anymore. I wonder what it all means…if it means.