Norm

May 24, 2013

By Rosilyn Kinnersley

Background: Norm is a much-loved patriarchal, though cantankerous, 85-year-old family member who was in attendance at a celebration. His passion was swimming, and for many years he was the control freak who forced everyone at a meet, to hold their breath in anticipation because he was the one with the starter's gun! 


As Norm entered the room, I observed that he was looking a bit on the seedy side, walking very slowly with the aid of two canes. He spotted me and beckoned me over with an imperious flick of his patriarchal head. We took a seat and he began a conversation.
 
He knew I had been able to help other family members and the word out was that I was "one of them fancy healers." In his thick, working-class Australian accent, he asked if I would "fix him" because he had tried "every-bloody-thing and every-other-bloody-one and nothin' helps." He was taking eight of the strongest over-the-counter pain killers available in any given twenty-four-hour period.
 
This once very proud man was all but pleading with me to "fix" him.
 
"Norm," I said slowly, looking him right in the eye, putting my serious face on, "there's something I have to tell you. I don't actually 'do' anything, I don't 'fix' anyone, nor do I cure anyone or anything." I wanted to set him straight and give him a clearer picture of how BodyTalk worked.
 
"Your body can fix itself. It was born being able to do this – part of the job description. Your body fixes itself 24/7/365 from the moment of conception till you die. But sometimes the job just gets a bit too hard and things have to take priority for survival." 
 
I took a deep breath as I waited for that to sink in then continued. "You know when you cut your finger do you have to tell your body how to fix it?"

"Well no...I guess not," Norm replied thoughtfully.
 
"Here is the scoop. Your body is a healing machine. Absolutely millions of cells are replaced in your body every day! Did you know that? Have you ever even thought about it?"
 
"'Course I bloody haven't. Why would I?"
 
"Fair enough. If your body is not healing itself and regenerating cells every moment of every day, you die. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah, I suppose so, when you put it like that," he conceded in his rough, still-deep, voice.

"Okay then. The pain you have is because of the stresses your body is experiencing. What I will do is find out what is causing the stress, thereby the pain, and we can go from there. Fair enough?"

"Yeah," he answered, drawing the word out slowly, almost grudgingly. "I s'pose."

"All right then. So what's your main problem, Norm?" I enquired.

He told me he was suffering from unrelenting and excruciating pain in both knees and was unable to walk without canes. "Those bloody doctors, they've given up on me, reckon there's nothing more they can do for me but pain medication." He stopped, took a deep breath as if gathering himself, then continued, "And, there's somethin' else too."

"What's that Norm?"

"Well," leaning towards me as if to tell me a deep, dark secret, "There's this big meet in WA (Western Australia – right across the other side of the country) in about six months or so and I'm desperate to be there to start 'em off, see. The kids reckon I'm a bloody old fool wantin' to go, but it'd be my last meet and I just wanna be there." I could see the tears welling in his eyes as he opened his heart and bared his soul.

Later I drove Norm to his home. I did a BodyTalk System session, and the conversation went like this:

"Norm, how long is it since you've had a glass of water?"

He just sat there for a while, pondering, pinching his squared chin with his fingers. "Hmm" he mused, "I'm well over eighty now and I started workin' at the gas works as a plumber when I was 14, and I haven't drunk water since then 'coz it tasted absolutely bloody awful so I reckon it must be nigh-on sixty years or so.

And then he exploded! "I bloody hate water! Can't stand the stuff!" banging his fist on the table. "Wouldn't drink it if I was dyin' o' thirst. I bloody hate it, I tell yer!"

And he's an icon as a starter for major swimming meets!

Ooooooh, I thought. Bit of anger and rage there too!

I gave him a summary of the BodyTalk session. Hydration, hydration, hydration! All roads led to Rome - severe dehydration throughout the entire body and the kidneys were shutting up shop. The knees are governed by the kidney energy and represent willpower!

I told him there was only one real cure and that he was the one in total control of it. He was going to have to get started right away if he wanted to get back on his own two feet in time for the big meet in WA. He was all ears and couldn't wait to hear the exciting magic 'cure'. He was just about jumping out of his seat in anticipation and eagerness.

"Norm, right now and for the rest of your life, the only real thing your body needs is for you to drink plenty of good old H2O... water! Good, clean, fresh water! Your body is simply screaming out for water mate. That is why your body is so stressed and in pain."

You might say those words triggered a mini war! Explosion does not come near to describe his reaction.

Long story short. Norm's idea of drinking water was half a glass of water mixed with half a glass of cordial concentrate! It took a huge amount of encouragement, support, coercion and reminding of 'The Goal,' but in the end, he saw the light and got stuck into the water. His daughter, a registered nurse, was brilliant and worked with me to get him drinking water.

Four months down the track, he was comfortably drinking up to two liters a day, every day, and was down to just one pain killer morning and night. Six months, almost to the day, later he proudly boarded a Boeing 747 entirely under his own steam. He celebrated his final start, swimmers and spectators alike, completely under his control for the last time, with ... a glass of water!

Norm departed the planet some three years later, comfortably (though I doubt quietly) sitting in his armchair with his favorite beer on one side and a glass and jug of water on the other, watching his beloved Cats – the Geelong Football Club win a desperately-longed-for Australian Football League premiership Grand Final.

I do hope he waited until the final siren before departing ... but we'll never know.
 

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