The Mind-Body Cure. Bal Pawa

       Contents

       Preface

       Introduction

       1.Mind Your Mind

       2.Mind Your Brain

       3.Mind Your Breath

       4.Mind Your Gut

       5.Mind Your Movement

       6.Mind Your Heart

       7.Mind Your Sleep

       8.Mind Your Immune System

       9.The REFRAME Toolkit:Seven Tools to Re-set Your Health

       Acknowledgments

       Appendix A: Gut Health Assessment

       Appendix B: Supplements

       Notes

       Selected Bibliography

       Index

       Preface

      I GLANCED IN THE rearview mirror just in time to see a large black truck hurtling toward my car at full speed. I automatically braced for the impact, which it turned out I had grossly underestimated. The driver was looking sideways, oblivious to the little car stopped in front of him waiting for another car to turn left.

      I was on my way home from the hospital obstetrical ward after an extra-long day delivering a baby whose mom had endured a difficult labor. The birth had ended happily, and I was recalling how that big, beautiful baby boy had cried at the top of his lungs to signal his healthy entry into the world. This is the most satisfying sound for both new mothers and their medical practitioners. Watching the parents bond with their baby and being privileged to be a part of that milestone were rewarding aspects of my career.

      I loved managing my role as a busy physician with my other role as the mother of two young, beautiful children and looking forward to another one on the way. As my thoughts turned to the squeals of delight I’d hear from my children when I got home, the loud squeal of tires abruptly interrupted and I heard a sickening crunch. The truck had lunged up over my car, shattering the back window and landing threateningly close to my head before coming to a stop. The impact happened so suddenly and so powerfully that my little white Honda lurched forward, hitting the car in front of me before being pushed into oncoming traffic in the other lane. With screeching tires, scraping metal, and blaring horns all around me, I felt searing pain in my right arm as I grasped at the stick shift to gain some control. My body had become a human missile: I must have hit my head on the side window and my chest on the steering wheel. I could barely breathe. Fortunately, the seat belt restrained me and saved me from going through the windshield.

      I struggled to regain focus and understand what had just happened. Many onlookers were staring in horror at my car, now folded like an accordion. My body was wedged in the front seat between the mangled metal pieces in the front and back. I felt nauseous—my head was spinning and I retched from intense pain. I heard sirens in the distance, the all-too-familiar sound of an ambulance, which was being sent to help me. I could not get out of my car and I vaguely recall emergency responders asking me, “Do you know where you are? What is your name? Do you know what day it is? Are you in pain?” A large crowd was gathering, and all traffic on the busy street had come to a standstill. My head was spinning. And then, total blackout!

      The next thing I recall, I was being wheeled into the emergency room of the same hospital I had left an hour before as a physician. The neck brace prevented me from turning sideways to see the familiar surroundings. I could only gaze at the ceiling, and I realized that while working as a physician I had never looked up there. Lying on a stretcher as a helpless patient, I had a whole new perspective. The role reversal was scary and sobering.

      “Does it hurt to breathe? Do you know where you are? Were you wearing a seat belt?” A young ER doctor fired questions at me while efficiently checking my vitals. Confused and dizzy from the pain, my mind floated back and forth between panic and denial. I knew I was alive: hands were poking and prodding me and placing cold stethoscopes on my chest and abdomen. I felt the sharp jab of a needle as they started an IV in my arm and I made a mental note of all the patients I’d had to poke repeatedly when I was an inexperienced medical student.

      Various technicians prepared me for X-rays and fired more questions at me: “When was your last period? Is there a possibility you could be pregnant?” I was pregnant! Fear and panic ran through me about the well-being of my unborn child. I cringed at the thought of radiation penetrating my uterus. The hospital notified my husband who rushed to my side, but it seemed like several hours before I could speak coherently or organize my thoughts to piece together what had just happened. Within a few hours, our lives were turned upside down, and we had to face a brand new future that fate had decided for us.

      That night was the start of a dark chapter in my life, but it ultimately shaped who I am today, both personally and professionally. The next seven years brought constant pain, grief, sadness, sleepless nights, and drastic changes to my life as I had known it. The pain from fractured ribs, a dislocated shoulder, torn rotator cuff, multiple soft-tissue injuries, and whiplash penetrated to my