This morning my yearnings arrived early. Only out of bed by minutes, an ache for the strong, brown, hot stuff came at me. I could almost smell coffee, but it stayed in the jar. I imagined what it would be like to sit outside in the cool morning air and savour a cup of the fresh-pressed fluid. I was a lost ant in a sack of roasted coffee beans, enveloped in the bounce and burst of bitter, nutty fragrance. But still, I didn’t cave.
And then I went off to see Dr A to down more concoction. I swear, she is making it more poisonous by the day. In fairness, she did say the strength would increase daily. My gag-reflex was immediate and lasted until I’d finished my rapid sipping. Dr A rubbed my back as I sipped, making sure the oily brown liquid went down and stayed there.
On to the good news. Today was the last of the foul-tasting morning medicine. Hallelujah. Which also means no more rice soup. Seems the morning decoction has done the necessary. Instead of gulping down what tastes almost poisonous, tomorrow morning I’m getting a sweet treat followed by a massage. Woop-woop.
Now for the bad news. In a few days I will be getting my first enema. The thought of a tube up my bum is one I’ve ignored for now, but I’ll not be able to for much longer.
On to better news – that small miracle. This time not mine (which was the flesh-firming), but still worthy of a report. At last night’s supper, my new best friend *wink* and comrade in health reclamation announced that the main issue she wants resolved was already showing signs of improvement. That’s after only two days of her own Panchakarma treatment. Awesome, amazing, stupendous. The poison is working.
Given the headaches, the foul-tasting decoctions, the commitment to be at the same place daily for the next month – our small miracles so early into the programme are not just good news but also necessary and important for our potentially flagging morale and motivation.
OK, my morale and motivation aren’t flagging yet, but I know how this one plays out. When I’m weak I’m as malleable to the will of my healer as I am to a hunk of a man with a chunk of chocolate in his hand (that’ll be Mr D in case you’re wondering). When I’m gaining strength, I get a little of my defiance back and with it my old dietary habits. Hence the coffee craving this morning. But that’s all good news this time round because I’m getting the chance to be mindful of these defiant habits in new ways. Primarily because I’ve more time to be mindful, with less distractions. And although Mr D is still a hunk he’s not big on chocolate. So that bright blue tin, that sits on top of the fridge, with ‘Cadbury’s Roses’ running around the outside with bars of quality ‘Chocolate and Love’ inside are not a problem. Honest.
So at lunch today, Dr A gave me an overview of what’s to come – maybe tomorrow, maybe starting Sunday. Obviously what’s to come includes the enemas (I am, figuratively, crapping myself about those because I will be literally once I’ve had one). She also talked about food, but I’ll give the lowdown on that once I’m back to doing my own cooking. For now I am looking forward to a change in the programme, what feels like a reward in the form of something sweet, and a more varied diet. All the same – NO COFFEE WILL BE PASSING MY LIPS on the morrow. I promise. And to those of you who share my love of good coffee, have one for me. Please…