Falling from Grace, Part I

          My New Year's resolution was to get rid of my migraine headaches—whatever it took, whatever it cost. So when I heard of a naturopathic doctor with a reputation for healing migraines, I called for an appointment. When I found out much he charged, I almost reneged, but a resolution is a resolution. I stuck to mine.

          I was apprehensive, though. I knew that the doctor had a poor opinion of wheat, and I didn't want to stop eating wheat. I also had a nagging fear he would tell me to stop eating dairy products, and I do love my yogurt. But "no matter what it takes," I reminded myself, as I waited in the reception room for my appointment.

          This two-hour conference covered everything from my thirty years as a vegetarian to my two-year bout of schizophrenia, about which the doctor said, "St. Francis talked to the animals, too." (Well, yeah, but they talked back to me, I pointed out.) Finally, he asked if I had any belief systems that would preclude any suggestions he might take. I follow no religious doctrine, so I said no. Then he did an examination which involved electrical impulses that measured my body's response to certain questions, after which he told me that low progesterone levels resulted in headaches and that protein intake affects progesterone levels.

          "You're protein deficient," he said. "Eat meat."

          Eat meat!! "Oh, I don't know," I said, suddenly confronted with belief systems.

          "Do you have the 'doe-eyed 'syndrome?" he asked dryly, meaning that the bigger the brown eyes of the animal, the more staunch the vegetarian. No, I didn't think so, I said. He asked if I would eat fish, and I said, yes, I thought I could (trying not to think of those big brown salmon eyes), and then he mentioned organic chicken, organic beef, bison, and emu. Eat bison and emu?!

          He said I had an allergy to soy but that rice protein powder, yogurt, cheese, and eggs would be good for me. I thought how pleased the people on the egg farm where I buy eggs would be to hear about the doctor's advice,

          But why was I so resistant to the idea of eating meat? It wasn't just thirty years of vegetarianism or the convictions of the animal rights advocate or the doe-eyed syndrome or even the idea that we should eat lower on the food chain. Something else was nagging me...my mother! How could I face her saying, "I knew you should eat meat!" Did "no matter what it takes" include loss of pride?

          It's too early to tell whether my new regime has cured my headaches, but I've been eating lots of yogurt, eggs, and tinned fish lately, though I haven't managed chicken or beef or emu yet. When I told my son about the doctor's advice, he said that he should be so lucky and that he would take me out for sushi when I came to Seattle. When I told my neighbor, she baked me some high-protein cookies. When I told my sister, she said she would increase her own protein intake and reimburse me part of the doctor's fees if it relieved her headaches. As for my mother, when I told her the doctor told me to eat more protein, she said, "What he means is a good, big steak," a comment I deflected without having to tell her she was right.

Next week: "Falling from Grace, Part II"