by Dr. Talia Marcheggiani, ND | Jan 12, 2015 | Family, Finding yourself, Healing Stories, Health, Letting Go, Love, Mental Health, Mindfulness, Philosophy, Poetry, Relationships, Self-care, Self-esteem, Self-reflection
I’m grateful for endings
that merge into new beginnings,
karmic cycles and their painful lessons
and excruciating yearly rituals that often end
in transformations.
I’m grateful for long late-night horizontal conversations
tiny loving gestures
unity
and the Universe announcing her timing
loud and clear.
For experience.
For strength and resilience
reflected
in the mirror.
For friends and family who linger
around the corner
ready to reemerge
when you call them.
For cold winter winds that bring loss
and change
and propel us on.
For memories that needn’t be analyzed;
they’re simply gifts to cherish and remember.
The winter winds push us
on through the frigid night
into spring.
by Dr. Talia Marcheggiani, ND | Nov 12, 2014 | Education, Philosophy, Psychology, Stress, Student, Student debt
I am afraid of money, especially when combined with health and medicine. Coming from a nation like Canada, it has been ingrained in the fibre of my being that healthcare should be completely accessible, read: free. As I embark on opening up a private practice as a naturopathic doctor, I am faced with a dilemma: I must charge my own patients for my services and, in this way, make my living.
This makes me afraid because, as mentioned above, I have a fear of money. I have seen money corrupt or become the main motivation for people to wake up in the morning. I have seen family members enslave themselves in certain lifestyles full of wants, rather than needs, that required large sums of money to maintain. I am also afraid of attracting only a certain kind of patient – those that can afford my services – and alienating a large demographic that naturopathic medicine could help. I don’t want to have a practice that is exclusive; I want to be able to reach a large number of patients and strive towards my goal of healing the world. What if no one can afford me? What if the people who can afford me don’t believe that I’m worth what I charge?
And in proper Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) fashion, from this dilemma surfaces a core belief: I am unworthy.
New practitioners struggle with unworthiness. After all, we are still learning and yet many expect us to be health experts. We emerge from school and enter into a society that has topical knowledge of health, especially natural health, but feigns depth of understanding. This can make us feel that we don’t know as much as we do. My relatives watch Dr. Oz and self-prescribe supplements. If they’re already taking fish oil, because they read about it on some health blog written by a second year ND student, why do they need a naturopathic doctor to tell them the same thing?
So, since CBT got me into this mess, let’s use it to facilitate the healing of my personal relationship with cash by examining some truths about the value of naturopathic medicine. I’m vaguely aware that this post has an uncomfortably self-aware, self-promontory tone, but my main goal is to convince myself, thereby coming to terms with my official début into this capitalist society. Hopefully it’s remotely entertaining and/or educational for the rest of you.
Naturopathic doctors are expensive. I have paid for 8 years of post-secondary education. The 4 years I was in naturopathic medical school; tuition alone was $20,000 a year. My OSAP debt accumulates a matcha green tea soy latte (unsweetened, of course)’s worth of interest daily. I owe other institutions and family members money. That’s just tuition. Now consider the fact that I wasn’t working during these 8 years. If I had gotten a job with a modest salary of say, $40-50,000 dollars a year, I could have made roughly $400,000 by now. I’ll stop, because this exercise is depressing me. But I think we all get the idea. So, financially, a naturopathic diploma is worth a truckload of cash, which can buy another truckload of self-prescribed supplements.
Being in practice is expensive. To get started we need electronic medical record software, a dispensary, acupuncture needles, linens, rent, licencing fees, malpractice insurance, association memberships, continuing education credits, website maintenance and hosting, and the list goes on. Being in practice can cost upwards of $200 a day. There are not many professions that pay to go to work each day. But not many professions put you in a position that allows you to heal the world… two sides to every coin (pardon the money pun).
NDs coming out of school are seasoned experts. Malcolm Gladwell, in his book Blink, famously tells us that it takes 10,000 hours to master something. Well, naturopathic medical school, with its 1200 hours of clinical training and 3000 hours of classroom training (not to mention the exams, studying, preceptoring, etc.) puts us at roughly half that number. Add in the numerous books I’ve read out of interest, the 300+ blog articles that I’ve researched and written and the fact that there isn’t a way to separate the practitioner from the medicine – “Doctor heal thyself” has become a mantra we regularly chant and put into practice – and you might just get up to 10,000 before graduation day. Or surpass it. I love health food stores, I do. But the minimum wage-earning employee recommending you the same brand of B-vitamins his sister takes just doesn’t have the expertise we do. You need a naturopathic doctor.
Medicine is not, and has never been free. I would not want to live in a country without universal healthcare. I believe that every citizen deserves equal treatment and equal access to quality health services. I believe that no one should receive priority based on their economic means rather than health needs. That being said, the medical system we support in Canada is quite expensive. It requires the input of hard-earned tax dollars. Some of these dollars support accessible emergency care, hospital stays, life-saving treatments and primary care. Some of them support poly-pharmacy: multiple prescriptions doled out to seniors. Some of these tax dollars are channelled into practices that do not promote health. Our healthcare system is not really health care; it doesn’t promote health, it manages disease. It should more appropriately be termed sick care. I don’t believe that health promotion like naturopathic medicine should be fee-for-service. I dream of a day where we are allowed to practice autonomously and offer those who need our services accessible care without charge. Until that day, sick care requires a lot of tax dollars and health care requires us to pay out of pocket. We need to pay for health care to avoid channelling all our resources into sick care. It’s the cold, hard truth.
Naturopathic medicine saves people money in the short and long-term. Whether it’s paring down your list of supplements to what you actually need, rather than what’s in vogue (Green coffee bean extract, anyone? I don’t think I’ve ever recommended it to anyone), to preventing and managing more expensive diseases down the road, I believe that an investment in seeing an ND will help save money. We empower you to take care of your own health. In the hands of an ND, you won’t need to visit your walk-in clinic for some ineffective and potentially harmful antibiotics the next time you get a cold; you’ll be taught how to manage common health concerns at home and feel in control of your body. Also, prescription drugs are expensive; I once paid $70 (that was after insurance covered half) for 6 migraine pills. I quickly figured out how to manage my monthly migraines naturally when I realized this system was unsustainable financially.
Naturopathic doctors are not in this to get rich. Due to the stress and lack of preparedness in setting up a business, a large percentage of NDs who graduate with the skills and knowledge we acquire are no longer practising. This is a harsh and sad reality. It means that the community is deprived of some very effective healers and the chance to be touched by what I know to be a powerful form of medicine; a true form of medicine. If I were motivated by money, I would have studied commerce at Queen’s, rather than science. I would have gotten my degree in 2008 and would be sailing my private yacht off the coast of Barbados right now. As it stands, my primary financial goal is to move out of my parent’s house and sustain myself financially while contributing to society and doing what I love in the meantime. And, if I achieve this goal, I still plan on continuing to purchase my clothing second-hand.
Money is a relative measurement. In the book The Wisdom of Insecurity by Alan Watts, money is described as “a mere symbol of wealth”. Watts tells us that money is a measurement of wealth, a representation of the real necessities that can be exchanged for it and that it is a mistake to give money itself value. There is nothing to be afraid of when it comes to money if all we see it as is a representation of needs. However, we live in a society where we don’t think twice about paying a few hundred dollars for clothes or shoes we don’t need, and then cringe when we see a bill for a service that has helped us move on a path to true healing. After investing in time with an ND, your life and health may never be the same. After paying for a pair of shoes or new haircut, your headaches and digestive issues are still going to be around. Your hair looks great, though. I’ll admit that.
Insurance companies don’t need the money. My insurance company once covered me for $20 of my $200 dentist appointment (in which I was told “everything looks great!”). If your health benefits cover naturopathic medicine you owe it to society as a whole to use up every last dollar of those benefits. Now is the perfect time to get started on that.
I would pay for a naturopathic doctor. How many used car salesman do you know who would personally buy the model that they’re selling? As a poor student I have seen naturopathic doctors, interns, chiropracters and massage therapists as a patient. I’ve gone to Body Blitz after back-breaking exams and have shelled out quite a bit of cash for supplements. The reason? There is value in spending money on these things; they work. So even though I am worried about coming up with the cash to replace my 4-year old computer, I don’t hesitate to fork over $50 for a bottle of quality B-complex vitamins.
Finding peace with making money involves a certain amount of hunger: becoming an ND and starting a practice is expensive. However, maintaining integrity as a doctor and putting the interests of my patients first is a priority for me. That’s why I have decided to offer patients supplements from my personal dispensary at Healthwave without mark-ups, at least for the time being. While many practitioners rightly and fairly choose to make part of their income off of vitamin sales, I have decided not to. Contact me to find out more.
by Dr. Talia Marcheggiani, ND | Oct 13, 2014 | Balance, Finding yourself, Mindfulness, Naturopathic Philosophy, Philosophy, Psychology
Image source: nohone.net
From the Art & Practice draft archives.
Things aren’t always what they seem. So goes the old adage.
The smiling mother chasing her kids in the park may be battling an ugly divorce or struggling with the guilt of a turbid affair. The white picket fence may not display the undercurrent story of addiction that runs through her life’s narrative. The beautiful home across the street provides a shiny façade that hides the modern-day enslavement to an unpleasant job that pays the mortgage.
I’ve come to understand that as a society we value the appearance of things rather than their actual value. We display to the world the happy side of life. We portray to others a sense of perfection and cover up the less-than-desirable aspects of our lives, creating the illusion that our lives are perfect and successful, free of suffering and pain.
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by Dr. Talia Marcheggiani, ND | Jun 6, 2014 | Balance, Happiness, Healing Stories, Meditation, Mental Health, Mindfulness, Motivation, Patience, Philosophy
“There are a lot of things up in the air in my life right now.” My friend, S, told me as we sat on the grass enjoying the first of two yerba mate-and-chit-chat experiences I’d partake in in the following two days. “I just have to trust that things will eventually settle,” she added.
“Hmmm…” I nodded, sipping from the bombilla. “It’s just that it can be so hard to do that sometimes…”
Brief silence.
“No it’s not.” S replied matter-of-factly.
And I wondered what my deal was.
On a personality questionnaire I recently filled out, I had to choose whether I’d prefer good things to happen to me or interesting things. The question intrigued me.
Of course it’s the interesting, excruciating disappointments that shape us and teach us about life and who we are. Sure, the good things can help us in our lives, but it’s the interesting things that challenge us to evolve and move forward.
And yet, in my life I’ve had a hard time trusting the interesting things. It’s so much easier to prefer the simplicity and clarity of good things.
So, at the moment that my life is more interesting than good (but still good), I am trying to learn to sit with it. I try to notice my impatience and desire to snatch all the things that are floating up around me out of the air, and rather than forcing them down to earth, watching and waiting to see where they settle on their own.
I’ve been thinking about my Mindfulness-Based Stressed Reduction course that I took exactly one year ago. I remember our instructor, Roy, pointing out to us that in our educational system we’re groomed into the mindset of pressuring ourselves to succeed, to always be moving somewhere. We’re taught that we own full control over our destinies and are responsible for the outcomes of our lives. Is this right? He asked us, in his almost-infuriatingly patient voice, as if he had all the time in the world to wait for his flock of cattle to corral themselves. The doubt he had placed in our minds violently upset one of the course participants. “I think it is right.” She passionately, angrily asserted. “We were always taught in school to strive for greatness, to try our hardest! It’s because of that message that I’m successful today.”
We watched as Roy gazed at her, non-reactively and his eyes implored her and the rest of us, And so you tried your hardest. You did as you were told. Did it make you happy? You tried your hardest and for what? You’re still here, alive, but very much at the mercy of nature and fate. You’re just as scared and confused as the rest of us. The rest of the class tensely watched the confrontation. It made us nervous to see him bearing the brunt of her anger for stirring up some deeply held beliefs and shattering her illusion of control – the illusion we are all taught to hold dear.
As a meditation instructor, I believe he must have become accustomed to removing those fragile bottom pieces of the Jenga tower and watching everyone’s world views come tumbling down like a stack of wooden blocks.
The blocks are currently in mid-air and it’s hard not to wonder where they’ll eventually land.
Or, as my friend S said, maybe it’s not.
by Dr. Talia Marcheggiani, ND | May 22, 2014 | Canadian College of Naturopathic Medicine, Finding yourself, Philosophy, Robert Schad Naturopathic Clinic, Student, Writing
Graduation 2014.
If any of you have been my patients you know that I love assigning letter-writing homework. There is something powerful in expressing yourself to some person or entity with the written word and then being able to look back and reflect on your thoughts and feelings at a later date.
In the first few weeks of my clinic internship at the Robert Schad Naturopathic Clinic, one of my supervisors, Dr. Wong, had us newbie interns write a letter to our future selves – our ND graduate selves. Sometimes it’s important to take a glance back to the start of our journey in order to fully appreciate how far we’ve come.
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by Dr. Talia Marcheggiani, ND | Feb 12, 2014 | Emotions, Empathy, Health, Philosophy, Psychology, Robert Schad Naturopathic Clinic
If you’ve ever participated in the medical system somewhere in the world, chances are there is a medical chart out there with your name on it. I have one in my hands now and I task myself with the job of getting to know it. It is based on a true story: a patient who has entrusted me with his case. I read through the 200-page document, transfixed as stories in the untidy scrawl of half a dozen interns – some of them now well-immersed in practices of their own – unfold on the white pages. These pieces of paper, bound together by a fragile cardboard shell, capture snapshots in time of the encounter between these young practitioners and the patient. I read between the lines. Coffee stains represent early mornings that followed late nights, plainly stated observations reflect the colour of different lenses with which these young naturopaths-in-training saw the world at that time. Their pens tell 6 versions of the same story. Their treatment plans tell the story of emerging practice styles and personal healing philosophies.
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by Dr. Talia Marcheggiani, ND | Oct 27, 2013 | Art, Art Therapy, Meditation, Philosophy, Poetry, Writing
Medicine is an art form; each chart is a blank canvas on which we document the interconnection between ourselves and our patient. Through medicine we allow patients to publish their own autobiographies, as we ghost-write it, pen to paper, in our medical charts.
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by Dr. Talia Marcheggiani, ND | Aug 28, 2013 | Acupuncture, Health, Homeopathy, Meditation, Nature, Nature Cure, Naturopathic Philosophy, Naturopathic Principles, Nutrition, Philosophy, Preventive Medicine
First things first: sunshine, fresh air and clean water.
Contrary to common belief naturopathic doctors are not just doctors who prescribe natural remedies to patients. (This means you can not avoid visiting a naturopathic doctor by going to a local health-food store and prescribing yourself a bunch of vitamins and supplements!) After all, as previously “naturopathic” therapies invade scientific literature, more up-to-date medical doctors are prescribing things like fish oil and probiotics to their patients. However, this doesn’t make them naturopathic doctors any more than prescribing rights make us medical doctors! Naturopathic doctors differ from the traditional medical model not so much in what we prescribe or our principles (do no harm, treat the whole person, prevent disease, doctor as teacher, support the body, treat the cause), which medical doctors arguably share with us, but in something called the Therapeutic Order.
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by Dr. Talia Marcheggiani, ND | Aug 17, 2013 | Body Image, Health, Nature Cure, Philosophy, Women's health
I approach the summit of the mountain that we’re slowly scaling, 1 vertical kilometre of it, the air cold despite the heavy gaze of the South American sun. My thighs burn but carry me steadily, my breath laboured but sustained, having fallen into a natural, sustainable rhythm within the first few minutes. The altitude is 2700 m above sea level, roughly 10,000 feet, and although I’ve recently arrived from sea-level Toronto, my mitochondria-heavy thighs and I scale the mountain first, my boyfriend and his two able-bodied brothers, who’ve spent their lives at this altitude, lagging behind.
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by Dr. Talia Marcheggiani, ND | Jul 9, 2013 | Health, Naturopathic Philosophy, Naturopathic Principles, Philosophy, Preventive Medicine, Treating the Cause
Many people come to see a naturopathic doctor only after they have already been to see everyone else, having run around the ring of the conventional medical establishment, all to have them conclude, “there’s nothing wrong with you.” Sometimes a patient might have heard, “it’s all in your head,” but they basically mean the same thing: “there’s nothing we can do for you. Now please leave us alone.” For the patient it might be a nice to hear that nothing serious is the the matter with them when the blood tests and other diagnostic testing come back negative, however, the symptoms that caused them to seek help in the first place still persist, leaving them feeling hopeless and confused.
After traveling to Costa Rica I experienced rapid weight gain, which I could not attribute to a change in diet or a sedentary lifestyle; I still watched what I ate and exercised. The feeling that I was gaining weight despite what I did made me feel helpless, like my body was acting of its own accord. It damaged the trust I had in my body, hindering the relationship I have with it, and the feelings of getting larger in a society that praises thinness made me feel self-conscious and ashamed.
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