A tall, thin, dark-haired man in a white coat hugged Joy.
“Hello, Dr. Levenstein,” she greeted him, tense.
“I’ve told you a hundred times, please call me Josh.”
He sat on a chair close to her, smiling. His dark eyes were fixed on her.
“Josh, this is Mr. Richard Feilds. He’s shadowing me today.”
They’d met once. He was Nana’s oncologist. However, the doctor stared at him blankly, without any sign of recognition in his face when they shook hands. “You’re keeping our Patch Adams company today?”
“Patch Adams?”
“That’s the mocking name the oncologists have for me in the hospital,” she explained calmly. “They make fun of the comedy videos in my exam rooms and my body-mind-spirit therapy.”
Dr. Levenstein talked to Richard, but his eyes were fixed on Joy. “We also call her the hugger. She can’t help but hug every freaking patient and their relatives and their cats and dogs. By the way, do I just make an appointment to get a hug too, or do I have to, I don’t know, shave my head? If I pay extra, do I get a kiss too?”
Dr. Levenstein continued his “charming” conversation for a few minutes. Richard was getting annoyed. Joy appeared oblivious to the fact that the guy was blatantly flirting with her.
Richard was relieved when they said goodbye and left the room, returning through the maze of gray hallways and back to the main exit and parking lot.
“As you can see, Richard, you may have chosen the wrong person to shadow. I’m not a conventional psychiatrist—and not one highly respected.”
“Are you referring to what Dr. Levenstein said?”
“He’s only one of many. Many doctors in town see my methods as unorthodox.”
Richard frowned. “If it makes you feel better, the guy is an A-hole, and I could see it a mile away.”
Smiling sadly, Joy replied, “That doesn’t make me feel better, but thank you.”
They arrived at her car. As she searched for the keys in the multiple pockets of her white coat, Richard spoke slowly. “Let me rephrase that.” He paused. “I’ve been in that guy’s office, and I’ve been in yours. I’ve witnessed the way he treated Nana, and I’ve seen the way you treat her. If I had cancer and had to choose between letting that guy give me the treatment that’s supposed to prolong my life or going to your Hospice House to be taken care of by you until I die, I’d choose to go with you every time.”
For a long, wordless moment, she looked him in the eyes. He sustained the look. Slowly, a smile curved across her lips.
“Thank you.”
He didn’t answer. Looking away, she opened the driver’s side door. They both got into the car and took off.
Chapter 7
On the way to the Masden Retreat Center, Joy explained the basis for her afternoon job. The Center for Spiritual and Mental Healing—The CeMeSH, as she called it for short—was a private office where she saw patients affected by all types of incurable illnesses, from arthritis to cancer. The official goal of the place was to offer psychological assistance to help patients cope with chronic illnesses. But she admitted that her real goal was to apply the body-mind-spirit theories, which claimed emotional and spiritual balance could translate into physical healing.
As they walked from the garage to the building, Richard asked, “When you say that you can help people heal with psychological help, you mean you can help cure them from imaginary diseases, like hypochondria, right?”
“Not necessarily. I believe we can make a difference in patients’ physical health through helping them heal emotionally.”
The majestic Masden Retreat Center offered a deep contrast to both the gray hospital they’d left and the beautiful-but-humble Hospice House. After riding the elevators to the fourth floor, they entered through an automatic sliding glass door.
A large waiting room was decorated in a more conservative way than the one at the Hospice House—neutral walls, dark brown leather chairs, and glass tables displaying a few plants. A large saltwater fish tank covered the main wall and on another wall, a TV played comedy. The room was packed.
He followed Joy through the door. “Geez! Are all those people waiting for you?”
“Not all. There are two other mental health counselors and a physical therapist here. Also, some of those patients are here for procedures.”
“Procedures?”
“Sometimes conventional pain management, like nerve blocks and steroid injections, but mostly less conventional procedures.”
She took a brochure from a clear plastic pocket on the wall and handed it to him. “We offer a wide range of services from hypnosis and biofeedback to music therapy and aromatherapy. We host meditation healing sessions, group prayer, and reiki healing.”
Astounded, he browsed through the brochure.
“Our most popular service right now is our warm water tank for relaxation therapy—it simulates the pre-birth experience of floating in amniotic fluid. All our treatments are meant to supplement and enhance conventional medical therapy, not to replace it.”
Richard was speechless. It took him a moment to recover. “Meditation healing? Pre-birth experience? I can’t help but feel that you’re offering these poor, desperate people a placebo, that you’re deceiving them.”
Joy’s voice was calm. “It’s more than a placebo, Richard. Conventional medicine has been slow to catch up with the importance of the mind-body-spirit connection; but for centuries, eastern healers have recognized grief, depression, and anxiety as a source of illness and a block to healing. Just think about the people you’ve heard about who had heart attacks or strokes after hearing sad or stressful news.”
His mouth twisted in a cynical smile. “Does it really work, or is it a way to get money from rich ladies?”
A shadow crossed her face. “I feel offended by your comment, Richard. I’d never support something that I don’t believe in.”
Realizing he’d gotten carried away, he softened the tone of his voice. “Sorry, that didn’t come out right. What I meant was, do you see measurable results?”
“Yes, our patients consistently report decreased need for pain medication, decreased toxicity from drug therapy, including chemo, and improved quality of life. As a physician, it makes scientific sense to me that turning off the switch of chronic anxiety and depression can reverse some of the damage done in your immune system by the stress hormones. As a spiritual seeker, I know that there’s much we don’t know yet about the way the status of our spirit, our intrinsic energy, affects our physical bodies.”
“Dr. Clayton,” a secretary interrupted, “your first client is ready. She didn’t give permission for Mr. Feilds to be present during her appointment.”
“Thank you, Maggie.” She turned to Richard. “I’m sorry to have you wait again.”
“Don’t worry.” He paused. “I remembered I have a friend who’s here, in the inpatient wing. I’ll use this time to drop by and say hello. I’ll be back before your next patient.”
* * *
Richard showed up unannounced to visit Dr. Andrews. There was no answer when he knocked on the door, so he went in.
Andrews sat on his bed, eyes closed, in the lotus position. Richard waited as the man remained motionless for minutes.
After wiggling his toes and fingers, Andrews opened his eyes. “Good afternoon, Mr. Fields. I’ve been hoping for a visit.”
“Hello. Would you fill me in on what you were doing?”
“This is the most basic meditation exercise. I do it at least twice a day.”
“What’s its purpose?”
“It helps me refocus, re-center.”
Richard nodded. “Oh, I remember. It helps you get, what’s the word, vibrationally aligned.”
Andrews smiled. “You’ve been paying attention.”
“Paying attention to detail is what I do for a living.”
“Good. So, how can I help you today?”
Richard sat in a chair next to the bed. “I
’m not sure. I was around and felt like dropping by.”
Andrews raised his eyebrows. “Is this then a social visit, not work related?”
“Maybe both. I had a gut feeling that today you might have more to say to me.”
“Well, if you’re able to listen to your ‘gut feeling,’ you’re not far from the truth.” After uncrossing his legs, Andrews stood up. “There, in your inner voice, is where all the answers lie.”
“So, is there anything you want to tell me today?”
Taking a seat in his throne-like armchair, in front of Richard, Andrews was quiet for a moment and then said, “Today I want you to do the talking.”
“What?”
“I’ll say it again. How can I help you? What’s filling your mind? What were you doing when you decided to come see me?”
Richard shrugged. “I was talking to a woman.”
Andrews looked pleasantly surprised. “I see. Who’s this woman?”
Frowning, Richard shook his head. He wasn’t supposed to talk about his assignment to anybody, much less to one of the suspects in the case. “That’s irrelevant right now.”
The man looked more interested. “Why bring her up, then?”
Richard thought that was a good question. He was taken aback by his own answer. “Spending time with her made me remember you. There’s something about the way she talks that reminds me of you.”
Andrews nodded. “The Universe will send you messages everywhere. When you start hearing the same words from different sources, pay attention. What exactly did she say?”
After retracing his steps in his mind, Richard answered, “The last thing we talked about was the connection between the body and the spirit. She claims you can help your body get better from illness if you work on your inner energy.”
“I like this lady already. You don’t believe it’s true?”
Grimacing, he replied, “Let’s say the theory doesn’t fit well with my practical brain.”
Andrews remained silent for a minute and then asked, “Has it ever happened to you that a feeling of anxiety has made you feel sick to your stomach?”
“Frequently. My heartburn gets out of control when I’m stressed out.”
“Have you ever gotten a headache from worrying or made it go away with a pleasant thought?”
With a jolt, Richard remembered something. “Not long ago, I had a terrible headache, and this same lady distracted me enough to get rid of it.”
“Remarkable! What did she do?”
“She had me watch comedy and then talked to me in a soothing way, and then she hugged me—and I felt like new.” He paused. “It may have been a coincidence.”
Looking intently in his eyes, Andrews said slowly, “Coincidences don’t exist.”
Richard chuckled. “That’s what she says. What’s your theory?”
“I think this lady, with her comedy and her soothing presence, helped you temporarily achieve a degree of vibrational alignment that allowed you to tap into your inner sources of healing. This person may be working at a higher level of vibration; and in her presence, it’s easier for you to pulsate accordingly.”
Grunting, Richard lifted a hand. “You’re making me dizzy with all this ‘vibrator’ talk. I hate to break it to you, but I’m not exactly a ‘spiritual person.’ I’m not sure that I even believe in the existence of the soul. I don’t buy these theories easily.”
Unaffected, Andrews said, “It’s not that hard to understand, even if you insist on using only your practical brain. Our bodies are made out of cells. Cells are made out of molecules of protein, water, carbohydrates, fat . . . Those are made out of atoms, mostly carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, and oxygen. Atoms and subatomic particles are mostly energy. Remember, the minuscule amount of mass in a hydrogen nucleus is nothing compared to the energy that it contains. That’s the principle of how the atomic bomb was created. It’s easy to deduce that, ultimately, we are made out of energy, and the energy that makes our physical bodies has a particular frequency or vibration which radiates around us like a field. Do you follow me?”
Richard frowned. “I’m not sure, but go on.”
Leaning forward, Andrews said, “So, that field of energy around each of us interconnects into each other. We can temporarily impact each other’s vibrational frequency while we’re physically close—temporarily. By being around a person long enough, we can be influenced, positively or negatively, by their rate of vibration.”
Nodding, Richard replied, “You’re saying that some people may radiate positive energy that makes you feel better, and others may radiate energy negative enough to make you sick? That’s hard to argue against. We’ve all met people who depress us with their sole presence and people who lift us up.”
“I rest my case.”
Richard pondered.
“The take home message is: there’s much more than the eye sees and the hand touches,” Andrews said. “Imagine you were born without a sense of smell and someone tried to convince you that a delicious dish and a rose both smelled wonderful, but in different ways, and that you could tell them apart with your eyes closed and without touching them. You wouldn’t believe it. In the same way, you need to be willing to accept that there’s much more to what’s happening in the world than what your current senses can gather.”
Richard was still not convinced all this made sense. Andrews added, “And one more thing.”
“What?”
Andrews smiled. “Whoever she is, I think this lady you’re talking about is a good influence. You should stick around her for a little longer and see what message she has for you.”
* * *
Richard returned to Joy’s office in the A Tower, still thinking about his conversation with Andrews.
He checked with Joy’s secretary. None of the patients had agreed yet to have him be present in their sessions. He sat in the waiting room.
He paid attention to the people in the room, most of them women. If he tuned in to them, he could feel their tension and irritability. When Joy appeared to take them back and greeted them with a hug, their tension started loosening up. Then, by the time they returned to the waiting area after their sessions, they each had a smile on their faces and walked lighter. Richard could physically feel how the energy around them improved.
He started understanding Joy’s success. It had little to do with her credentials or the scientific grounds for her theories; it had everything to do with the energy she radiated. Dr. Andrews was right. Joy seemed to radiate a positive energy that lifted people from their despair. That was what her patients were after.
She was a mood enhancer; and like most of them, she was addictive.
It was ten minutes to five when she arrived in the waiting room, smiling. “Great news! My four forty-five rescheduled, so I’m a free woman now.”
“Great! What do we do now?”
“I called the Hospice House. Some of the patients I’m scheduled to see tomorrow have agreed to sign permissions to let you be present during their visits. Let’s call it a day and meet there tomorrow at ten.”
“Do you remember that I came in your car?”
She tapped herself on the forehead. “I forgot! Come on. I’ll drive you back to your car at the Hospice House.”
They walked in silence to the parking lot. After a while, Richard said, “Joy, I need to apologize if I offended you when we talked about your work at the CeMeSH. I didn’t mean disrespect. Those topics simply appall me.”
Smiling, she looked at him from the corner of her eye. “I noticed that. I found it interesting that you’re not scared of facing criminals, but you seemed freaked out by the mention of my floating meditation tank.”
He frowned. “Now you’re making fun of me.”
She was fighting a giggle. “Richard, you don’t have to apologize. I appreciate people like you who can be outspoken about what’s on their mind. I prefer that to people who tell me what I want to hear but then badmouth me when I turn my back. Just, please help m
e understand—what’s so deceptive about my theories?”
Shrugging, he replied, “I can’t accept them as true without scientific proof.”
They’d arrived at the car and entered it. Backing out of the parking spot, she said, “Richard, I won’t bore you by reciting the scientific basis for my hypotheses. In the end, you either believe it or not. In the end it will be a matter of faith.”
As she drove out of the parking lot and onto the street, he remained silent. Then, the words burst out. “That’s exactly what I’m lacking. I don’t have faith.”
Joy raised her eyebrows. She threw glances at him while trying to keep an eye on the road ahead.
“Any faith?”
He huffed. “Do you ever watch the news? Is it possible to talk about men of faith without feeling sickened? Don’t you feel disgusted about the corruption that’s happening behind organized religion?”
She shook her head softly. “Richard, you’re mixing up two different things. Faith and religion are not interchangeable terms. Neither are religion and spirituality. You don’t need to give God a name and address to believe in Him, or Her . . . or ‘It,’ if you prefer to see the Divinity not as a person but as a process. The Universe. The Tao . . . The Star Wars Force. The glue holding together molecules and atoms.”
He felt an inexplicable frustration rise in him. “How could I believe in anything holding together the universe? Look around you, and you’ll see the chaos in the world. There’s suffering everywhere we go: death, cancer, natural disasters, people killing their own children, hate, war—”
She cut him off. “There’s also love, laughter, people following their passion, people helping other people in times of need, brave souls overcoming tragedies and walking out of them as improved human beings.”
Grunting, he shook his head. He couldn’t explain the passion he was feeling. “Oh, Joy, you’re so naïve. That laughter, that love, is unfairly distributed. They’re a privilege of only a handful of people on the planet.”
Joy sighed. “And like Martin Luther King said, all I can do is to be the change I want to see.”
“I don’t mean to be offensive,” he replied, “but just to believe that change is possible, you must have had a sheltered life. I bet you’ve never been held up at gunpoint or beaten up for being different. I bet you’ve never seen your children hungry and wondered what’s it going to take for you to be able to feed them.”
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