Long Night's Journey - Part five

Continues...

Healing is a complex and subtle process.  Carers need appropriate support if they are to play their role effectively.  Informed and shared decision-making is vital.  Empathy from treating specialists can assist greatly, and their acknowledgment of the potential role of complementary healing practices is a real bonus.   

Growing worry over Carolie’s condition spurred me to act on an idea that had been germinating for weeks.  From experience in India I was aware of the amazing healing abilities of certain people.  My involvement with yoga had brought me in contact with such phenomena in India and Australia.  Healers of various descriptions had long been on my radar, but until now, my experience was limited to acupuncture, acupressure and therapeutic massage.  I reached out to several people in contact with the healing community, as follows:

          I am thinking that Carolie needs a healer with healing hands.  The doctors don't know why she is  not waking up and I think someone with healing intuition might be able to help. 

I quickly had feedback that was encouraging.  A therapist with what seemed to be the least intrusive method for someone in coma came highly recommended and lived in Sydney.  He and his wife are skilled therapists in samvahan and acupuncture.   

Samvahan is a method of balancing the natural healing rhythms of the body, practiced in ancient India.  In the 1930’s,  a young Indian chiropractor with European education, Dr. Ram Bhosle, was inspired to begin using vibrations from his hands to heal his patients. He read ancient texts about vibrational healing, and eventually spent six years in the Himalayas studying with yoga masters to perfect the method. 

His successes led him to become the personal healer for Mahatma Gandhi, Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru and leaders from around the world.  (See http://www.samvahan.com/founder-body.html).  I discovered the recommended therapist had studied under Dr Bhosle in India, and was a leading practitioner of samvahan.  His wife had studied acupuncture and acupressure in China. 

An abiding worry was resistance from the medical hierarchy.  I was pleasantly surprised to discover senior decision makers did not discourage my efforts.  As one nurse manager put it to me, “We need all the help we can get”.  The Head of neurosurgery and ICU senior staff did not prevent complementary therapies, provided they were non-invasive in the skull area and did not compromise care protocols.   Again, this was an inkling of how a genuinely integrated treatment and recovery space might function. 

Unfortunately, any positive feelings toward the senior neurosurgeon evaporated when he came by to update Carolie’s prognosis.  He said he had heard of my exchange with the junior ICU registrar and that it was difficult to anticipate the extent of damage. Their early optimism had given way to pessimism.  The worst case was she might not be able to return home.  Alternatively, she may wake up in two months and be fine, but he said, “I would not bet my house on it”.   

It felt like a ‘get back in your place’ moment from someone who was not going to lose any sleep over her ultimate fate.  There is nothing like a good betting analogy to put life and death matters in context.  I detest our ubiquitous gambling culture and found his throwaway line unsettling.  This was my last exchange with any of the Sydney-based neurosurgeons.  There was no further follow-up.  His final glib words rained down like heavy hail.  I was again suffused with hopelessness. 

To leave next of kin with so little solace and clarity is hardly indicative of an enlightened approach to recovery.  Their 'high-tech'  job was over; how Carolie fared beyond this point no longer their business.  It fitted the general picture I had formed of detached technical silos through which patients pass on their journey to recovery or continuing morbidity.  My hope now lay with ‘hands-on’ healers and a recovery path focussed on an individual’s outcomes.

To be continued...