During this continuing downward spiral, described above, and with the addition of new symptoms that became more and more debilitating, I consulted numerous doctors and specialists. Here are the most significant of my experiences.
My first experience was with a psychologist: I paid 50 Euros per hour, during which we had pleasant chats, as if we were taking a stroll in the park. We talked of this and that, of my family situation, about things that bothered me and things that didn’t.
I remember that I told him: “Concerning my panic attacks, it is I who decide whether I want to get well or not!” I wasn’t able to connect the symptoms I had with my family situation.
Then we began the long and confusing work of inner excavation.
But the expected results did not come, so I changed psychologists. This time however a homeopathic treatment was added. My psychologist said this would make all the difference.
This second therapy was not more successful than the first, but the psychologist found a way into my mind. For this reason I started convincing myself all my ailments were caused by my relationship with my parents. As if that wasn’t enough…
I did not give up. After a few experiences with psychologists, I began with doctors. Various physicians examined me. They looked me over from head to toe, touched me all over and had me do many, many diagnostic tests. Blood tests, thyroid tests, and abdominal sonograms for the abdominal problems I had.
They couldn’t find the cause of my pain, by means of these tests, and so, for the doctors, I came to be diagnosed as a hypochondriac.
The most repeated sentence was: “You need to go to a good psychologist.” It was useless to explain that I had already been. I changed many doctors and psychologists. Many of these prescribed me psychoactive drugs such as Xanax, Lexapro and others besides. I never took them, as I had no faith in them.
In essence they were telling me that I was crazy, and a misfit. But I didn’t give into that pressure. I was convinced that if there was a symptom, there must be a cause. I had to find that cause.
At that time I had not yet identified the cause and the symptoms became worse and worse. My father took me to one of the most important specialists in Naples: 100 Euros per hour.
That specialist did not solve my problems, but in contrast to the others he conferred on me a useful means which to this day I still use: meditation and listening to my body.
In the meantime, after many sessions the money ran out, and we changed direction.
My stomach was getting worse and my cousin, head of the Hepatobiliary Department at Loreto Mare Hospital in Naples, did an EGDS or upper endoscopy, diagnosing me a hiatal hernia and a gastric ulcer.
For sure, cause of that ulcer must have been stress.
I COULDN’T TAKE IT ANY MORE, GOD IN HEAVEN!
My cousin called in an excellent psychiatrist, a close friend of his. With him I began, for the umpteenth time, another course of therapy and, at the same time, I dedicated myself to Reichian therapy and began to allow myself be manipulated by a series of osteopaths and other chiropractors.
I can’t forget when, almost at the end of my life, I dragged myself with boxes of antiacids first to the psychologist and then to the psychiatrist on the same day. I returned home tired and slept for many hours. Finally I decided to stop consulting doctors and entirely dedicated myself to prayer and to Buddhism.
At any rate I understood that there was a narrow connection between my posture and all my symptoms, even if there was no cure for them.
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