@Cyberdyne 101,
@hellanutella,
@aprimenumber,
@FriendlyFH ,
@ridethecliche,
@Scribblers,
@Ace Khalifa ,
@sunflower18--and all you other wonderful folks not yet named here by name--thank you and thank you and thank you some more. A lady needs support like this from unseen friends. (And unseen undergarments!!
) Sorry--I didn't mean to dump on you all. It was one of those "one thing after another" experiences, a real Comedy of Errors. Just to clarify what happened, I didn't go in determined to preach the gospel of alternative medicine. I was asked about my personal statement.
I spent some time on a tea plantation in the Himalayas, lured there by the promise that I would be volunteering at "a clinic." When I arrived, I was shocked to discover that there were no physicians, no nurses, no pharmacists. The medicines (donated from kind overseas folks) were mostly expired and in short supply anyway--and not always well-matched to the problems that the tea workers actually suffered from. There was some equipment, but none in working order. What textbooks were available were, I'm pretty sure, put into print soon after Gutenberg got that press operational. In short, the "clinic" didn't really exist. What WAS there was one plucky tea worker volunteer who spent every day trekking from one mountain village to another to comfort people in pain or facing imminent death. She had basically no resources beyond her beautiful and indomitable spirit, her inexhaustible compassion, and her willingness to learn whatever she could and to make use of whatever was available. I accompanied her.
She could not offer much. She would chant a little. She spent a lot of time listening. When her touch did not exacerbate the pain, she massaged. And when ayurvedic or homeopathic medicines came her way, she employed them--just as she used any "mainstream" or allopathic remedies that she could get her hands on. My personal statement was about how that experience strengthened my determination to go into medicine, so that I could provide some of the knowledge that could help and perhaps secure other tools that might be of aid to such people. I also mentioned that the willingness of this Gurkha woman to use whatever tools were available impressed me, and how I thought her sheer "there-ness" aided healing.
My interviewer opened by asking me some questions about what I had observed and written about in my personal statement.
"Homeopathic," though, triggered a pretty intense reaction, although (regardless of my private feelings), I was not advocating that path to healing. My interviewer had very strong opinions on the topic, suggesting that I might have done better to administer poison than to give homeopathic remedies. She had a great deal to say along these lines. Interrupting her seemed a poor idea. When I attempted to recover after that painful interlude ("I see your point. Absolutely.") I did not know quite how to correct the bad impression without either triggering another monologue or sounding as if I were willing to say pretty much anything in an attempting to bluff my way into the school. Quick thinking is not my strong suit--I'm a deliberator. (No worries that I will end up in emergency medicine!!)
I don't want to come across as blaming the interviewer. I respect her views and understand her wish to warn me off treatments that she clearly perceives as dangerous. The fault was mine, for 1) not having considered the sentence more carefully before uttering it and 2) not having the social deftness to redeem the interview. I did write a carefully considered thank-you note to the interviewer. In it, I mentioned how glad I was that we shared an enthusiasm for therapeutic touch and massage. I didn't think re-visiting the fall-out of the "homeopathic" mention was a good idea--but perhaps I was mistaken.
Anyway, whatever transpires next, the interview was certainly educational! Also in keeping (perhaps) with my faith tradition, I believe that we do travel roads that are intended for us and that what may seem to be a disaster in which we fall gracelessly is in fact just a redirection so that we move in another direction. (Yeah, yeah. I know that this philosophy can be dismissed as fatalistic. Still. . . .)
Like that ancient Taoist teaching story about the farmer and the series of events surrounding his horse. . .
http://www.noogenesis.com/pineapple/Taoist_Farmer.html
http://www.katinkahesselink.net/tibet/zen.html
Anyway, however "bad" the interview was, look at all the good it brought my way--such an outpouring of kindness and encouragement from friends whom I have never seen! Grateful--that is BengaliBrat today!!