Homeopathy and Craniosacral therapy during Post-Surgical Care

About 35% of women over the age of 30 have uterine fibroids. These benign
tumours can grow to a considerable size and can cause various health problems.
As I had fibroids myself I learned how to treat them both naturally and with
minimally invasive surgery.

This is the humorous story of my fibroid surgery
during and after which I used naturopathic approaches, including homeopathic
remedies and craniosacral therapy to help me recover faster.
Stitches
“Excuse me, nurse, but there is some air in my IV!” I watched, horrified, as a two-
inch-long air bubble slowly snaked it’s way down the IV line painfully embedded in
the back of  my left hand.
“Oh, don’t worry, that won’t do anything to you, you can put lots and lots of air in
without any problems at all,“she said cheerfully.
By now the air bubble was disappearing into my vein and presumably entering my
blood stream. I sure hoped the nurse was right.
I had just undergone a myomectomy, a medical term for the surgical removal of a
myoma or leyomeioma, more commonly known as a uterine fibroid, a layman’s
term for a medical adventure.
On the day of the procedure I had entered the operating room at 11 am sharp.
Rock music blared loudly in the background of this cozy and anything but sterile-
looking room, as I was introduced to Jason, the OR nurse, a young kid with spikey
hair, who looked ready to boogie. Just a few minutes earlier I had met Dr. Ryan,
the anaesthesiologist. Slightly built, pale, with large grey eyes and fine blonde
hair he didn’t look a day over 25. Very reassuring indeed. You know you are
getting old when other professionals start looking too young to know what they
are doing.
At least I was confident in my surgeon, Dr. Nielson, an experienced doctor with a
great reputation. I liked her immediately when we first met a few weeks earlier to
discuss the surgery.
“I think I can get that sucker out with a laparoscopy, “ she had said, grinning. “I’ll
cut it up and take it out in bits and pieces.”
Little did we know at the time that Dr. Nielsen would end up breaking her surgical
scissors on my calcified and rock-hard fibroid.
My fibroid had been around for at least 15 years, plenty of time to turn into stone.
At 26 I had developed mid-cycle spotting, pain during ovulation and severe
menstrual cramps.  A gynecologist diagnosed a uterine fibroid, “about the size of
a kiwi.” Fibroids are usually described in relation to fruit. You are really in trouble
by the time it gets to the size of a melon.
He offered surgery to remove it, but this was 1987 and I had just enrolled at the
only naturopathic college in Canada. I was determined to try and find a natural
solution for my troubles. So after some research I went on a nasty estrogen-
controlling diet high in fibre and low in fat. So much for my beloved salami and old
cheddar cheese!

I took herbs to support my liver function.  And, strangest of all, I
took a homeopathic remedy made from Deadly Nightshade for the cramps. It
worked like a charm, providing relief for the cramps within minutes each time.
After five months on this regime my heavy bleeding and cramping had completely
resolved. I was impressed. But the fibroid never shrank, in fact it grew a bit over
the years and I was ready to part with it now at age 41 as it was pushing on my
bladder. This is common in my experience. Fibroids don't always shrink, but the
bleeding symptoms invariably improve.
But, here I was in an operating room, a naturopath undergoing surgery. And I did
not come unprepared.
“Dr. Ryan, may I take these homeopathic remedies after the surgery?” I held up a
little ziplock bag filled with colourful little tubes bearing unpronounceable names in
Greek and Latin. Remedies for every eventuality I could foresee, including pain,
infections and nausea.
Dr. Ryan suddenly went a shade paler than he already was.
“Oh, uh, I don’t know anything about these things. Homeopathy, hmm. Well, if you
can recognize your remedies after you wake up, I guess you can take them.”
Deal.
I regained consciousness after the surgery, gripped by excruciating pain and
unable to breathe properly. I asked for my remedies, as I was, surprisingly,
exceptionally lucid. Must have been the extra oxygen. I quickly popped some
Arnica and Hypericum 200 CH and experienced almost instant relief. By the time
evening came I was feeling much better. I was also very hungry.
“No, you cannot have anything to eat. You will just bring it right back up,” said
nurse Jenny, a lovely tall and young woman from Nigeria.
“But I have been able to keep water down, see?” I showed her my water bottle
and batted my eyelashes. “And I have remedies for nausea.”  I showed her my
little baggie of homeopathics.
“Alright then, I’ll bring you some Jell-O.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope.”
Jell-O? I had just undergone major surgery and all I was going to get was sugar-
laden, food-coloured, immunosuppressive Jell-O?
What I really wanted was some nice fresh fruit, kiwis, strawberries or melons.
Always the rebel I called my girlfriend Nicole, who lived only two blocks from the
hospital and told her about the nurse’s plan to starve me to death. She offered to
come over and sneak in some apples and cantaloupe. By the time she arrived we
both felt like a devious little pair of criminals, giggling like mad while trying to
figure out where to stash the goods.

As soon as my girlfriend left, another nurse,
apparently a recent import from Russia, with a muscular built and a no-nonsense
attitude arrived with a huge hypodermic. I was rather enjoying the international
flavour of the hospital, me being German and all that.
“I am going to give you your antibiotic,” she growled with a heavy accent.
“No, you’re not!” I yelped.
“You're not having your intravenous either?” she asked, staring at my
disconnected IV.
“No. I can keep down water.”
The Russian left, shaking her head in disbelief.
Now, however, I was gripped by an acute sense of paranoia. What if one of the
nurses crept into my room and administered the antibiotics against my will while I
slept? I had better stay awake. The last thing I needed now was a nasty yeast
infection. By 4 am, sleepiness had won over paranoia.
“Wake up, Ms. Zimmermann, it’s time to go to the bathroom.” None other than
nurse Jenny again.
“What are you still doing here?” I asked sleepily. “And why are you waking me
up?”
“It is 6 am, and you need to pee now so I can be sure you are not dehydrated.”
I grumpily obliged and went back to sleep. At 7 am, another nurse, from Japan
this time,  woke me up to take my blood. Back to sleep I went again.
An hour later yet another nurse, this time with an English accent,  came in and
roused me to take my vitals. Why did they not all come at the same time and let
me snooze away? I gave up on sleeping, clambered out of bed and stumbled
straight into my ever cheerful surgeon.
“Guess what?” she announced, her round and rosy cheeks shining. “I broke my
scissors on your fibroid. That thing was as hard as a rock!”
Actually, I was feeling quite good and my abdomen hardly hurt at all, but I had
severe pain in my shoulders and right rib cage as well as a badly bruised lip.
What else had happened to my unconscious body in that rocking OR?
“Did you lean on me trying to get that thing out?” I wanted to ask my sturdily built
Dr. Nielson. “And did nurse Jason kiss me?”

Luckily I had booked a craniosacral therapy session prior to the surgery. Within one hour,

all the shoulder, chest and neck pain was entirely relieved.
I am happy to report that I am sleeping much better these days and that it was
neat to combine conventional and complementary methods. My thanks to the
great staff at the hospital in Richmond Hill.
But, Jason, please, remove your lip piercing next time!