Many of his conventional medical colleagues who grudgingly accepted his homeopathic beliefs balked at the mention of chakras or zones of energy within the body. As a university-trained medical doctor he knew that such ideas didn’t have any foundation in Western medicine. But he also knew that illness was multi-factorial and that everything needed to be taken into account, including the metaphysical.
He sat at his desk in his swivel chair and turned it until he was facing the shut cupboard behind him. He opened the doors and pulled out one of three wide shallow sliding drawers and looked with great pleasure at the rows and rows of little brown remedy bottles. He picked up a couple and ran his fingers over the labels before replacing them and shutting the doors.
Pushing away from the desk he moved to the next room, which he had set aside for massage therapy. He was a fully qualified masseur with certificates in remedial, deep tissue and sports massage, as well as specialising in Bowen therapy.
The massage table was in the centre of the room. An old-fashioned dresser that he had bought at an antique store was at the far end and held all his towels and equipment such as essential oils, CD player and CDs. The walls were the same soothing colour and the ceiling had a rainforest mural painted on it, the central skylight representing the sun and its life-sustaining energy.
He was pleased. It felt much more like his own place than his office in Melbourne ever had. He had inherited that, along with the client list from a retiring colleague, and because it had been part of an office complex with strict limitations on alterations and was already a really successful practice, Marcus hadn’t felt able to put his own personal stamp on it.
But here — it was all his and pride glowed in his chest as he walked out to the reception area. It looked like any other doctor’s reception with one exception — no secretary. Unless he became exceptionally busy, Marcus planned on doing the reception stuff himself.
Consultations were usually lengthy so it wasn’t as if he had to juggle a hundred patients a day. In fact, ten patients a day was his upper limit. And, in between clients, he could use the state-of-the-art computer system on the desk to update client information and note their progress.
A few fat squishy leather lounges, sourced from op-shops, gave it a retro feel and the wall art was modern but restful. There was a variety of magazines, from alternative health glossies through to the tabloid press. And a large wooden toy box full of things to occupy little hands.
On one of the walls there was a wire rack that boasted a variety of informative pamphlets concerning common illnesses and homeopathic remedies. These were put out by various natural therapy bodies and held lots of good common-sense advice.
Marcus was just switching on his Sounds of the Rainforest CD as Connie opened his sliding door.
‘Ah, my first customer. Good morning, Mrs Fullbright. These are for you,’ he said, presenting her with a bunch of flowers he had bought from the florist on his way in.
‘Oh, my,’ said Connie, placing her hand against her chest and beaming at Marcus. ‘What on earth for?’
‘My first ever client in my new practice,’ he said, grinning at Connie as she turned a lovely shade of pink. ‘These things should be celebrated.’
‘Oh, I don’t know, Dr Hunt,’ she said. ‘Perhaps you should wait until after the consultation. See, I’m a bit of a conundrum. I’m afraid I can be a bit of a bother.’
He saw the joy the flowers had given her slowly disappear from her face. She looked at him with the air of someone eager to be liked but certain she wouldn’t be.
‘Excellent.’ He rubbed his hands together and smiled at her reassuringly. ‘I love a good puzzle. This way,’ he said, gesturing for her to precede him.
They entered his office and he indicated the chair opposite his for her to sit in. ‘May I call you Connie?’ he asked. She nodded her head and he continued, ‘OK, tell me what’s been bothering you, Connie.’
‘I’m just so tired all the time. Some mornings it’s such an effort to get out of bed. I swear if I didn’t have lunches to make and kids to get off to school, I just wouldn’t bother getting up at all.’
Marcus nodded sympathetically, his mind already ticking over. ‘And how long has this been going on for?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know. Seems like for ever. Dr Harrington seems to think I’m just going through the change...maybe she’s right. I don’t want to waste your time.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Marcus. ‘In all likelihood it’s probably a combination of things. Why don’t we start right back at the beginning? Tell me about yourself.’
Connie looked at him, slightly surprised. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘Everything,’ he smiled.
‘OK...’
Marcus laughed at her hesitation. Most clients, particularly those who’d been on the rush and hurry merry-go-round of general practice, found his consultations hard to get their heads around. He really had to convince them it was OK to hear their life stories. ‘Really, Connie, it’s OK. Start at the beginning.’
‘What? From the time I first started feeling tired?’
He reached across the desk and covered her hand with his. ‘No, from your birth,’ he said.
Tear shone in Connie’s eyes for a second before she blinked them away and started talking but still, Marcus had to really encourage her to start with. She kept stopping. Self-editing. She’d start to say something and then think better of it.
He would make a joke or say, ‘Hey, Connie, don’t hold out on me’ and eventually her monologue flowed and she forgot about leaving anything out and unburdened completely.
A client’s first consultation could take up to two hours and it was a counselling session more than anything. They were so used to having ten minutes tops with their doctors that being able to vent and unburden was a unique experience. But Marcus wasn’t there to just treat symptoms. He treated the whole person.
And to do that he needed a very thorough history.
Except for acute cases, his clients and their illnesses were usually the sum of many factors. Add to that the problem of his services too often being sought as a last resort after myriad Western medicine interventions had been tried, and he usually had a very complex puzzle indeed.
The key to unravelling the puzzle was information. As much as he could gather. And remembering that physical symptoms couldn’t be treated in isolation. That people’s emotional issues were an integral part of the complaint and directly connected to their illnesses.
And that’s what he loved about his job. Looking at the person as a whole. Looking at someone like Connie and knowing that somewhere among all the information he was gathering was the key to her treatment.
He made notes as she talked and he could see a really good picture of her as a person in his head. Connie talked about how awful she felt most of the time — depressed and tired. How her joints ached from time to time and she so often felt that there was no hope for her.
Her relationship with her husband was strained. He sounded very demanding of her and wanted everything to be neat and clean and ordered all the time. She spoke about how stressful this was as she could barely drag herself out of bed most days, but she worried he’d be cranky if she didn’t so she forced herself to do it. Housework that used to take an hour would take all day as she kept having to stop for a rest.