Proof of Purchase

For twenty years, I treated Reiki like the "imaginary friend" of the wellness world.

I’ve always been into all of the forms of alternative healing, but Reiki was a line I couldn’t ever cross for some reason. It felt too "woo-woo," too “hippy,” too weird. To be fair, I had never even really looked into it, but whenever it came up, I felt a big, proverbial eye-roll in my soul and looked the other way.

Then, a couple of years ago, in a moment of ironic inspiration, and a giant nudge from the universe, I made a spontaneous, life altering decision to start studying Reiki. (You can read all about that piece of my journey here).

About a month into my studies, and after I had received my first reiki attunement, I was really struggling to feel a connection to "the divine." Practicing on myself wasn't showing me much, and I was seriously questioning if I had just paid a bunch of money to learn how to wave my hands around in a weird way. I was stuck in this limbo land of doubt, wondering if the "energy" was even plugged in, when the universe decided to give me the ultimate "Proof of Purchase."

The "Swiss Cheese" Diagnosis

My household consists of myself and a bunch of animals. Two of those animals are my dogs, Keira and Moses. Keira is a spicy little heeler mix, and she was only four at the time. She’s a wild little thing: constantly getting into trouble, no sense of self preservation, getting into everything she can get her mouth on, harassing her big brother any chance she can get. If you’re familiar with heelers, you totally understand. Suddenly, about a year and a half ago, my little psycho crazy girl started to inexplicably slow down. She was lagging on walks. She stopped playing in the house. She looked absolutely miserable. Then she started to make a sound that still haunts me: a high-pitched, wheezing whistle whenever she jumped on the bed or the couch.

I spent a week or so poking and prodding at her hind legs. Maybe it was a sprain? Maybe she had gotten a thorn or a cactus spine or barb stuck in her foot? (#arizonalife) As much as I poked and pulled and inspected, she gave me no indication that anything I was doing caused her discomfort; she’s a tough little girl and she wouldn't give anything away. I made the decision to take her to the vet. My vet did the same things I did, and she couldn’t figure it out either. So she gave me some meds, along with the usual “beginning stage” instructions: low activity, keep an eye on her, give her the meds, and sent us on our way.

Over the next couple of weeks, Keira's condition became exponentially worse. She got to the point where she wouldn't even try to jump on the couch; she laid in her bed in obvious pain despite the meds; she stopped bothering her brother or playing with toys; she was no longer charging out the back door at the sound of nothing. it got to the point where I couldn't take her on walks at all, as I could tell it was killing her to barely even go 500 feet. Then the clincher: I came home from work one day and a package of cream cheese was right there on the edge of the counter. Something she could easily reach (and absolutely would have stolen). Completely untouched. I never thought my heart would break at the sight of a snack sitting on the edge of the counter. It crushed me. Back to the vet we went.

The X-rays were grim. The vet pointed to her lower spine, clouded with massive amounts of arthritis that she said she wouldn't have expected to see in a dog less than ten. Then she pointed to her hip bones. She told me it looked like "Swiss cheese." Bone deterioration so bad it looked like the structure was just... dissolving.

The plan was a "let’s see" cocktail of Gabapentin, Carprofen, and weekly Ketamine shots. "We’ll start here. Keep an eye on her and bring her back in a couple of months," she said. I was devastated. The vet tried to keep a positive bedside composure, but I knew this was dire.

The Stroller of Shame

Not going out for our usual adventures was getting to all of us. I couldn't continue to just not take her on walks, and Moses was getting pretty stir crazy. So I got her a dog stroller. I’d let her run for a few minutes and then put her back in. We had dwindled down from daily two mile forest adventures, to “landlocked,” and now this: her “Stroller of Shame.” I’d push Keira in this mesh-zippered contraption while our other dog, Moses, tore through the brush like a maniac. I’d look at Keira—her free spirit obviously hating this type of excursion—and then look at my hands. I wondered if I should start trying Reiki on her.

My Reiki instructor had actually mentioned to me at the beginning of this whole thing: "Well, here is your first client." But I had been too nervous to give it a shot. I felt like a fraud. I didn't know what I was doing, and I still wasn't sure the "Energy" was even plugged in. But I decided that watching her suffer was worse than feeling silly, so I started to practice on her. Mini-sessions, several times a day. I’d place my hands on her, feeling the heat, half-expecting nothing and half-praying for everything. Encouragingly, and a little surprisingly if I’m going to be honest, I could tell she could feel it. Her eyes would get big, she’d manically lick my palms, and then she’d lay back and just let the energy do its thing. It was incredible! This was about mid December.

The "Let’s F***ing See" Moment

By February, I had been able to take Keira off all of her daily meds, slowly tapering them down to nothing at all. Her time in the stroller became less and less, and I eventually started just leaving it in the Jeep. She had started jumping back on the couch and the bed. She was becoming more active and spirited at home, harassing her big brother whenever she felt that spunk, charging out the back door at the sounds of nothing. By all accounts, she seemed to have almost fully recovered.

We were still doing the weekly Ketamine shots. It was the one thing I was holding on to, and frankly, I was scared to stop. I actually didn’t know what the ketamine was doing. I had never thought to ask my vet about it. In my desperation and dark emotional state at the time, I just trusted her prescriptions and ran with it. 

At the beginning of February, I had something come up and we had to skip her weekly shot. I felt terrible about it, and I spent that week scrutinizing every move she made, looking for any signs that she may be regressing due to the missed shot. But you know what? Nothing happened. There was no sign of regression. Keira was fine. After a lot of thought, I decided to let it ride for another week. I watched her for that next week, still giving her Reiki, still watching her improve, regardless. I had a "Come to Jesus" moment that second week: do I take her back for ketamine, or really, truly see if this Reiki thing was working? I decided it was time for me to let go of the branch, say "fuck it," and go all in.

We never went back for another ketamine shot. I kept up with the Reiki. And instead of falling apart, Keira just kept getting better. I stopped taking the stroller out with us altogether. She started jumping on the bed again. She started stealing snacks off the counter again. She ran through the forest like a madwoman, like the entire ordeal was just one bad dream. I even questioned it myself sometimes: Was it actually that bad? To this day, I occasionally look back at the radiographs, just to remind myself that this was, indeed, very very real. 

The Prognosis vs. The Reality

I spent the next couple of months in absolute awe of my girl and the recovery she had made. By May, I was really curious about what my vet would have to say. In all honesty, since I didn’t actually know what the ketamine was supposed to be doing, I wanted to ask. It was the one piece of this that continued to cause me to question the efficacy of the reiki. Was ketamine supposed to eliminate arthritis? Grow back bone? I didn't think that was likely, but I hadn't looked into it; I had just trusted my vet and agreed. It was time for me to know.

So I called her and asked. She let me know that, no, ketamine was not a miracle drug. It was strictly for pain relief. My heart was pumping at that moment. I had spent the last couple of months not sure if it was the Reiki or the ketamine. Here was my answer.

Without mentioning that I had been sharing Reiki with Keira, I asked her what the long-term prognosis was, and what she envisioned Keira’s life would be like going forward.

"Erin," she said, "I'm just going to be really honest with you here. Keira’s physiology is a nightmare. She has more arthritis than I’ve ever seen in a dog her age. She's likely experiencing pinched nerves, she’s in a boatload of pain, and her bones are going to continue to deteriorate. She’s going to be on pain meds for the rest of her life, and I’m not going to be surprised if you end up having to euthanize her prematurely due to how much pain she’s in."

What she didn't know is that as I was speaking with her, I was actually out in the woods. I was literally watching my "physiological nightmare" launch herself over a fallen log, her tail a blur of happy motion. No meds. No pain. Just life.

"Well," I said, watching Keira chase Moses around the pines, "I actually started studying Reiki a bunch of months back, and I’ve been treating her at home with Reiki sessions. She’s been off all meds for months, and I'm currently watching her sprint through the forest, chasing her brother like the crazy heeler she is."

The vet’s response was a "WHAT?!" that could have shattered glass.

Why I’m Not a Skeptic Anymore

That was my receipt. My very overwhelming, emotional, and well-received receipt. Ketamine doesn't rebuild bone. It doesn't make arthritis dissolve. She was simply on pain meds, and now she's not. And she’s absolutely thriving. Still. To this day. A year later.

The dogs and I are back to our usual active routine: two-mile walks daily and exciting weekend outings. This has been one hell of a year, and today, when I watch my sweet girl running through the woods with complete abandon, my heart swells. Over her life, over this beautiful gift I’ve been given, and this experience that let me know that Reiki is, in fact, very real.

I don't even have to give her Reiki very often now, but she does like to ask for it sometimes. She’ll cozy up to me on the couch, roll sideways, and give me her cockeyed, goofy little smile that says, "Please momma, give me some loooove." Of course, I indulge her.

I started this journey not entirely sure what I was getting into, thinking maybe I had just gone crazy. I certainly didn't know what to expect the moment my soul screamed at me that the Reiki path was the one I needed to be on. While I’ve seen and experienced some pretty miraculous things come out of my practice for myself and others, this is definitely my favorite. I am forever grateful.

If you’re a skeptic, like I was for so long, I get it. It’s a weird thing, this invisible, mystical, energetic thing we call Reiki. But if you’re looking for your own "proof," I invite you to see what happens when you stop looking at the X-rays and start looking at the energy.