The Doctor Is In

In my long line of varied and interesting neighbors came Hannah, a middle-aged German woman with a fascination for homeopathic and traditional healing. She was completely cured, she told me one day, by an ayurvedic doctor with nothing but warm milk and raisins. Since then, she devoted several weeks of her vacation to learning ayurvedic medicine, a traditional school of Indian medicine, with her doctor/savior.


This isn't the first time that I've heard of ayurvedic miracles. An American ani (Tibetan Buddhist nun), whom I met while hiking, told me of a voyage to Kerala for the saving touches of an ayurvedic healer (in exchange for this treatment, she added, she only needed to give the doctor two shawls).

Curious, I decided to pay a visit to the local Ayurveda House for a general consultation. A few days later, I found myself sitting face to face with Dr. Kusum, whose qualifications include a Bachelor's Degree in Ayurvedic Medicine and a certificate in yoga and naturopathy.

She starts taking my bio; as she asks "where are you from?" an eyebrow raises just a little bit. After I tell her, she smiles in relief. "Oh, I thought you were Israeli!" She laughs and nods knowingly when I say, in response, "maybe that's why I'm getting weird looks." I'm not sure if I can count the number of times I've heard Indian shopkeepers, etc, complaining about Israeli tourists. Personally, I've had nothing but good experiences (including watching a high Israeli man get tickled until he was yelling with laughter by an afro'ed Tibetan man- but more about that in another blog).

Dr. Kusum starts to whisper. "Don't worry, I'll be very discreet," she says as a way of introducing the topic of sexual history.  Dr. Kusum starts to blush, turning as red as the crimson Patiala suit she is wearing.

A short time later, she takes my wrist and tells me, "I am going to feel your pulse and tell you some things about yourself. Tell me if I am right."

"You are reserved, but lively with those close to you."

"You always have many things going on inside your head."

"Sometimes your belly feels hard."

"You're easily irritated."

"You're not a morning person." (Well...actually...)

I also have ten toes and enjoy air and sunshine. But please, continue.


At this point, I'm feeling a bit skeptical, but I lay down and submit myself to belly and feet probing. "Tell me with it's uncomfortable." She presses on an upper area of my abdomen. Beat. Beat. She pushes a little harder. "I think this is uncomfortable, yes?" I acquiesce, but mostly because she's pushing quite hard.

A short while later she tells me that the problem with my lungs (for I came in for asthma) is my liver. "It is covered with toxins, you see." She then proceeds to tell me the treatment: a seven or eleven day program of toxins exiting every orifice possible.

The eleven day program is much better, she tells me, because it includes both a day of induced vomiting (which is excellent for clearing toxins from the lungs) and a day of induced diarrhea (which is best for clearing the liver). Several enemas are also included, and at the end of the program she will arrange a diet perfect for minimizing toxins in my body. All for the low, low price of $200-$300.

Come to think of it, day to day life in India comes with these same treatments for free. 

She also offers medicines, but I earlier promised Daniel (after his extensive research into the amount of mercury and arsenic in Ayurvedic medicines) that I would run from medicine. So I tell her I will think about it.


I wonder how long it will take her to notice crane 60 in her examination room.