It's About Chemistry

 

It's About Chemistry

This morning as I stare down at a math problem concerning logic. I asked myself, 'Is the study of finding the existence of a black hole logic, intuitive or both?'
Yes, I'm now stuck on pondering such thoughts. Which brought me back to near twenty-four years ago as I was back in college, again. Those of you who thought they knew me, probably had no clue that I'd gone back to college at age thirty-eight. Although working full-time with running my business. Too, continuing to race and run over 100 miles a week during those years, just before my husband and I had become parents. I was back in college switching from accounting to a degree in biology. It was a slow process, but one to gain more knowledge, applying to my therapy practice and get a degree towards nursing.
At the same time, a hand surgeon had invited me to speak at Westchester Medical Center to eleven medical doctors. I sat through one of their classes that day, then I began my three hour speech and demonstration. After speaking,  the head doctor, who was their professor led me with the ten other doctors down the vacated hallways to a same day surgical medical site.
Tables, curtains and a deluge of cleaned and prepped ready to go for the week's same day surgeries were present.
He had us pass a few tables set up for surgeries, then gathered us around. He said, "Show me what you would do with a frozen shoulder."  I nodded. Then I asked, "Anyone here got that?" Nearly three hands were raised. I asked, "Give me your worst one." A woman of color urged me to treat her. I invited her to the surgical table. I had her stand in front of me and move her arms and shoulders to see the difference in rotations, side lifts, reaches of varying points and her expressed sensitivities. I had her then get onto the surgical table.
I remarked, "This may tickle. And this may smart initially. But you let me know what is intolerable. Okay?"
She replied,  "Yes."
I then reached through her clothing of her injured shoulder. I gradually tugged to lift her scapula away from her body. My two hands nearly touched each other on either side of the gliding joint. She breathed. I checked her neuromuscular sleeve with my hands. I asked a few questions, as to dictate my next move to treat her shoulder. As I had, I explained to her and the others what motivated my treatment.  What I was feeling. Too, the science, physics I'd learned behind it.
Soon, the treatment of the doctor's shoulder issue was done.  She got up. I asked her to check her shoulder. She did and found it was nearly 100% better. We checked her range of motion.
Then a doctor asked, "Are you able to help my lower back?" I replied, "Hop up here, after I find one of you having a carpal tunnel syndrome to treat."  He nodded enthusiastically.
I spent an hour that afternoon in this sanitary, sunny, quiet, same day surgical site treating medical doctors and explaining how and why they had their issues. Also, how I saw each problem and each person separate from their bodies.
After that day. I saw the doctor who'd brought me into Westchester Medical Center the next week in my office. He said, "I think you should become a doctor." I was shocked. "Really?" I queried. He continued,  "Yes. Not a surgeon. But a non-operative orthopedic doctor."
I'd not ever thought I was that smart. He saw the look on my face. He stated, "Financially, there's a way to do it. I can sit down with you and your husband. We will figure it out." Still stunned, I nodded. He added, "Think about it."
I realized then that I'd have to make a choice on my husband's and my future goals.
Instead, I chose to become a parent. I didn't tell my husband what had transpired back then. I just told him, "I think I impressed a bunch of medical doctors. Like I'm smart or something." After he'd asked how it went that day in Westchester.
The next time I saw the doctor,  I told him that as much as I'd love such the opportunity to further my education, I needed to become a parent before it was too late.
I was absolutely torn. A couple years later, as a new mother, I decided to take the I.Q. test that another medical practitioner suggested and begged me to do for over two years. I feared that if I took the I.Q. test, I may just find out that I was dumber than a doorknob. Finally, I took the exam she'd suggested. I knew she'd given I. Q. tests in the past.
After the exam, afraid to look up what the score meant. Too, I feared telling anyone I'd taken the test. Alone at midnight, a month later, I looked it up. I found out that my score was just one below genius, and nearly fifteen points above people who'd successfully gotten their Master's Degree. However, I refused to share this with my husband back then. My friend who knew my score, told me to take another I.Q. test. I asked her why. She stated, "You're higher." I didn't. I truly feared being lower. I figured to quit while I was ahead.
More than a decade later, then a working-mother of two who were nearing their teenaged years. I expressed to my husband at our dining room table, about the test and score I'd received nearly fifteen years before. His jaw dropped.
And to be quite honest, he did think I wasn't that smart. He had a plethora of questions. I answered them.
So, today as I reminisced of my second time of three times I'd attended college. I recalled him shaking his head just a couple years before my taking the I.Q. test. He was shaking his head back then,  because even as a Math guy that he was. He absolutely despised logarithms. He'd asked, "How can you do that with a migraine and being sick?" I'd had a summer cold and could not attend a family wedding, as he was readying himself to leave to the wedding. I replied, "Well, I have homework due this week. And I've got to get better for work. So, I'm finding drinking hot green tea and water helping me."
He seemed confused, "No. What I mean is that. I hate logarithms. How can you...?" He'd paused then added, "They're about chemistry." He recoiled. I remarked, "I guess I'm a chemistry person." He nodded as he had realized not only the way I'd cooked and baked, seemingly on the fly. I as well, had sixth sense for making salves and cooking plants and things in our kitchen I'd grown in my garden.---Jody-Lynn Reicher