A visit to the Naturopath

     Naturopathy is focused on the stimulation of a person’s “vital force” or one’s own healing capacity. It comprises a holistic approach to facilitate the body’s natural mechanisms to be well.  There is a focus on diet, exercise, and lifestyle changes aided by the use of dietary supplements and homeopathic remedies. I could understand the appeal of this ostensibly reasonable approach.  I originally had set my sights on seeing a  practioner of homeopathy, but I was unable to find anyone for whom this was the sole focus of their practice. It was mostly MD’s providing homeopathic remedies on the side to supplement their income. The naturopath I found had been recommended by a close friend, and her website appeared very professional. I decided I should go with a credible practioner even if it meant paying a bit more.

            The clinic was located in a nondescript office on the second floor of a historic building. There was no signage outside to indicate its presence. This was clearly a word-of-mouth establishment. The waiting room was small, and the smell of incense wafted through the air. On one wall were shelves displaying a vast array of available supplements and remedies, much like the stand of hair care products that confronts you as you exit a beauty parlor.  There was an inviting photo of an empty dock on a mountain lake. On the side wall was a stand with various teas for consumption and purchase. While able to appreciate the calming feel of the place, I could also glimpse its money making potential.

            After a wait of only a few minutes, I was ushered by the doctor into her spacious office/exam room.  I sat down on a love seat opposite her large wooden desk. On the far side of the room was a typical exam table.  The walls were covered with shelves full of books of the trade.  I recognized a few internal medicine and obstetric texts that were over 20 years old and appeared to be gathering dust. In contrast, closer to her desk were several folders and homeopathic reference books that appeared well worn from frequent use.  The doctor sat down behind her desk and flipped open her laptop.  Over the next hour and a half, we reviewed the extensive questionnaire that I had been asked to complete prior to my visit.  It covered my past medical history, current medical complaints, and lifestyle.  She used this questionnaire as a jumping off point for more detailed questions about each of my complaints. Throughout my entire visit, she diligently tapped away on the keyboard and periodically referred to the folders and reference books at her disposal. 

            On the whole, the visit reminded me of a typical visit to a general medical doctor. The exception being the length of time she spent with me and the depth of the questions with which she probed my history.  With regard to my headaches, she tried to define their frequency, location, triggering and exacerbating factors, remedies I had tried in the past, and the impact of my diet or sleep.  She asked similar in-depth questions regarding all of my complaints.  She showed particular interest in my bowel regimen, the consistency and frequency of my stools, and also whether I had any skin problems. She even delved into possible sources of angst stemming from my childhood! We discussed my insomnia, lower back pain, my chronic foot pains from plantar fasciitis, and my Type A personality. I must say I was impressed. She was thorough and yet she remained relaxed, in no rush at all.

            After getting more and more specific with her questions, she finally leaned back in her chair and contemplated for a short while and then she said, “I think I know what is going on”. I waited for the answer with baited breath. After an extended pause, she said, “you have inflammation”. The unifying diagnosis just hung in the air for a few seconds as we contemplated its significance. I must admit I had to stifle a guffaw. Over one hour of probing questions, no stone had been left unturned, and this was the answer: “inflammation”. I must admit my incredulity was heightened by the fact that in my profession as an infectious diseases doctor, inflammation is a symptom rather than a diagnosis in its own right.  I have no doubt I could declare this diagnosis in all of my patients and be correct 99% of the time! She was not done. The next part of my diagnosis was even more intriguing. She concluded that my adrenal gland was out of whack! Apparently, my cortisol (a hormone produced by the adrenal glands) levels were not following the appropriate diurnal rhythms, hence my insomnia. She inquired if I would like to have my cortisol levels checked via a saliva test. I balked at the $151 dollar cost, and we agreed to proceed with empiric management and consider the test at a later date. Now that we had a diagnosis, she went to work developing a therapeutic regimen.

[next week, the treatment plan]