The Pillsbury Dough Boy Shall Be Slain

So it has finally happened.  I have become a middle aged puffy white male.  He snuck up on me rather surreptitiously.  Perhaps while I was distracted watching Seinfeld reruns and eating Oreo cookies.  Or maybe it happened while I was at work trying to keep my office afloat in these times of increasing costs and decreasing  enthusiasm for nice teeth and gums.  Whatever the factors involved in my slow descent into the torpid, stressed out  lifestyle of the typical fifty year old suburban male, I recently had a startling eye opener. 

My wake up call did not arrive via a conventional blood test and stern lecture on the dangers of LDL's by an over weight yet self satisfied physician .  Nor did the news arrive via a 4 mm fiber optic probe being guided through my large intestine by an equally smug colo-rectal surgeon.  No, in my case the news was delivered by a comely chiropractor practiced in the art of sensing the body's acupuncture meridians gone awry.  My liver, it seems, does not agree that a couple of glasses of wine after work is good for the nerves.  My adrenal glands are apparently tired of carrying the load necessary to maintain my high achieving lifestyle.  And not to be left out, my pancreas is just about at its wits end with trying to process my cookie habit.

Of course, like a stressed out parent (the Nutritionist's metaphor, not mine) my Pituitary gland is beside itself with worry over the unruly nature of my entire endocrine system.  All this great news delivered via my arm strength response while pressure is applied to the meridian for each organ.  That and the fact that I told the Doc I am a stressed out dentist, suffering from irritability, bloating, fatigue, and an excessive need to void my bowel.  I imagine 98% of fifty year old men suffer the same maladies, or worse, as me.  We just don't talk about it.  I say this not to detract from the validity of the diagnosis, but just to point out the need for some kind of motivational force beside a condescending lecture from a conventional MD.

Sure I could go to my family physician (if I actually had one) who would stick needles in my arm, a scope in my ears, nose, and throat, and a finger up my ass, just to tell me the same thing.  Eat better, drink less, and exercise more.  As if I don't already know this.  In fact, most people who know me assume I am the poster boy for a life well lived.  "As if you have to worry" is the response I get most often when expressing doubt about eating my twelfth chicken wing at the PJ's Pub across from my office.  Well I've got news for you, I have some issues and apparently my liver, pancreas, and adrenal glands are not going to take it anymore.

So in the interest of longevity I made an appointment with this alternative medicine practitioner.  I have only had one appointment so far but I do not have a good feeling about the news she is going to deliver to me at our next meeting.  Her mumbling something about wheat, gluten, dairy, soy, meat, caffeine, sugar, and alcohol intolerance during her palpatory examination on my stomach and liver has already got me thinking that I will be living on raw kale leaves for the rest of my life.  This thought leaves me a bit uneasy about the road I am choosing to travel down.  But hey, I am always up for a life altering challenge.

The technique is called "Nutrition Response Testing" and you may click on the title of this post for a demo on youtube.

Stay tuned.