Leaving the doctor’s office Zian stared at the card he had been given. Unable to make out exactly what sort of specialist he had been referred to he sighed and put it in his pocket. He had a map so at least he could make his way to the location of the doctor’s office. He had been given to understand the doctor was expecting him so he decided not to fret.
He had been in New Zealand for only a month and he suspected the stress of adjusting to his new life was part of the problem he was experiencing. He missed Hong Kong, and more, he missed his wife and children. He would work with great diligence and zeal so that he could bring them soon, but this problem he was experiencing was making that very difficult and so he had sought medical attention.
He had asked the few Chinese he had met so far where he might find a reliable acupuncturist or herbalist but they all seemed to have adopted western medicine as the answer to their health problems and so he’d had no choice but to avail himself of the local clinic. He didn’t know his way around yet and found the phone book too confusing to be of any help. He had learned only minimal English in Hong Kong, and though he studied hard since arriving in his new country he still struggled to make himself understood.
Three visits to the doctor and examinations and pills he had been given had not had the desired effect and so it was he had been given a referral.
Arriving at the building he had been directed to he went inside and studied the directory. It was so confusing! He couldn’t locate the name of the specialist so he wandered down the hall of the first floor in the hopes of finding someone who could help.
As he passed an open door he caught a whiff of herbs that he was familiar with. Good, he thought, perhaps this is the place. He went inside and was greeted by a man wearing an odd tunic. He had long hair and a beard. He looked much different to the doctors he had seen before. His aspect was more that of the young white people who had come to Hong Kong in the late 60’s and 70’s, the ones who had called themselves hippies.
“Hello. My name Zian. I am looking for doctor who can help me. I am to be here. I am…blocked.”
“Ah, I see, you’re blocked. Well then, Zian, you’ve certainly come to the right place. It happens that I can help you. How wonderful that we meet like this, mate! My name is Andrew. Come, be seated my friend. Let us see what we can do to clear you.”
Confused, Zian sat down. He supposed he would be peppered with more questions he couldn’t understand, but remained calm.
“Now then, how long have you been blocked?”
Zian thought about the question.
“I…I am blocked since coming to New Zealand. I worry much. You can help?”
The bearded one nodded and smiled.
“My friend, of course I can help. I see your aura. It is very clouded and muddy.”
He began moving his hands in odd patterns around Zian’s body and chanting words Zian couldn’t understand. What manner of medicine is this, he thought. It was certainly not the sort of thing the doctors at the clinic did.
Noticing the look on Zian’s face Andrew stopped and looked deeply into his eyes.
“My friend, I am going to clear you. You will be blocked no more.”
Bewildered, Zian nodded his head and forced a smile.
Part 2 tomorrow.