Eka Pada Mukhasana: The Advice Column: Hydrophobia

Recently a buddy who I'd seen regarding a troubled digestive system (as well as soreness, fatigue, aches and pains, dizzy spells and general discomfort) emailed me at 3:40am to tell me he thought he might have yanked himself up during our session. When I got online, I summoned him to the google chat to discuss. What follows is an excerpt of our conversation, which he suggested I post as advice. For any of you that have not been to class with Karen Faith, please be warned that the following transcript contains her authentic style of exclamation, not suitable for public broadcast.
T: I'm icing my neck and shoulder. Damn!
me: What? We barely moved you neck and shoulder. We were trying to get your sh*tter to fire up, remember? What happened?
T: Dunno, felt like a pinched nerve. Ok now.
me: That sucks, let me know if I can help. Sometimes when one thing releases, another thing yanks up. It takes some time (and regular practice) to get everybody chilled out, so easy does it.
T: Fine now.
me: Yeah, I heard you, but you shouldn't be up at 4am in terrible pain. That's bullsh*t.
T: No worries - Maybe I just slept on it wrong.
me: I know I know, you keep saying it's no big deal.
But in any case, take it easy.
There's a lot going on for you in the physical lately, and it couldn't hurt to bring some gentleness to the issue.
T: I think it's all diet. But can't bring myself to change.me: Well you can do a lot by adding a gallon of water a day. Not kidding.
You can get away with eating a g*dd*mn mack truck if you hydrate like a m*therf*cker.
T: Did I ever tell you I almost drowned once? Ever since then I've had a phobia about drinking water.
me: I can't tell if you are kidding or not.If you seriously don't drink water, I think we've found our problem.
T: Not kidding.
Never drink water.
me: J*SUS F*CKING CHR*ST
T: I mean, I'll drink it if nothing else is around.
me: J*SUS F*CKING CHR*ST
I don't even know where to begin.
I don't even know where to begin.
Are you f*cking serious?
That's like running your car without oil, man.You know what happens when you do that?
The g*dd*mn thing blows up.
You can't f*cking do that.
T: Not kidding. Water creeps me out.
me: You *sshole! Bothering me about your f*cking aches and pains when you are f*cking running your body through that kind of torture. Have you got info on 9/11 or some sh*t? Water deprivation doesn't make the truth come out man, it kills, I don't care who you are - and don't give me that Buddha Boy sh*t, because that's different. Whatever he's doing is definitely not what you're doing. For sh*t's sake you are practically killing yourself. Not a fan, Tom. F*ck that.
Sorry. I shouldn't get all worked up. I'm a professional. A compassionate professional. And you are suffering from fear. Like all of us do.
But seriously. Water, man. WATER.T: I drink lots of fluids that contain water.me: Fluids that CONTAIN water? The fluids you speak of also contain things which defeat the mission, like bourbon and espresso.You're out of your mind.
T: I am not.
Prior to the mid '70's people in the US didn't drink much water, you know.
I mean, you're right and everything.
me: Yes I am. T: Old dog, new trick.
me: Well, I suppose I have said my piece.
T: You should consider this a question for your advice column.
me: Do I have your permission to copy the insane things in this chat? Because everyone is going to think you are a masochistic moron.
T: Yes
me: Wow, neat. Ok.
What I didn't tell Tom on the chat that I will tell you all now is that I, too, almost drowned as a kid. It was in the ocean. Me and my little brother got pulled way out into the water before we knew what was up. The beach was empty that day, and my mom and sister were laying out on their oversized beach towels getting tans, presumably. The situation got kinda urgent, and mama was hollerin' and thrashing around. Suddenly, some guy in white (yes, white) swimming trunks showed up in the middle of the ocean. He seriously came up out of the water from nowhere, ushered us both back to my mother's flailing arms, and disappeared. My mother reported that we were saved by an angel. Not an 'angelic' person. An angel. Like Gabriel. Like a divine being that flies (or in some cases, swims) around doing the will of God. I do not know who that guy was, but if he were here right now, he would be getting a big Thank You from me, and then he would tell Tom to drink some g*dd*mn water.
While dipsophobia is the fear of drinking, Hydrophobia is the fear of water. Hydrophobia is also, curiously, the fear of rabies. (Tom, how are you with rodent bites?) Since the above confrontation, Tom has made incredible progress confronting his fear and is now carrying a water bottle with him to work. With diligence and courage, soon I hope he will begin drinking it. When that time comes, Tom - and anyone out there who doesn't get enough fluids in their tank - I recommend employing a drinking straw of a cheerful and inviting shape. While the aforementioned sea angel wouldn't have been so sloppy as to allow me to develop a trauma-related phobia, I have, in fact, experienced trouble drinking water in the past, as I used to get so booze-poisoned that I could barely lift a glass to my lips. (Trauma-sans-savior related.) Using a straw, I found I could take in liquid much faster, and without the insufferable use of my arms! That 50-pack of smiley straws saved my life, I'm pretty sure. Though, those straws were part of the problem, come to think of it. Be sure to put the straw in the right glass.
What I didn't tell Tom on the chat that I will tell you all now is that I, too, almost drowned as a kid. It was in the ocean. Me and my little brother got pulled way out into the water before we knew what was up. The beach was empty that day, and my mom and sister were laying out on their oversized beach towels getting tans, presumably. The situation got kinda urgent, and mama was hollerin' and thrashing around. Suddenly, some guy in white (yes, white) swimming trunks showed up in the middle of the ocean. He seriously came up out of the water from nowhere, ushered us both back to my mother's flailing arms, and disappeared. My mother reported that we were saved by an angel. Not an 'angelic' person. An angel. Like Gabriel. Like a divine being that flies (or in some cases, swims) around doing the will of God. I do not know who that guy was, but if he were here right now, he would be getting a big Thank You from me, and then he would tell Tom to drink some g*dd*mn water.
While dipsophobia is the fear of drinking, Hydrophobia is the fear of water. Hydrophobia is also, curiously, the fear of rabies. (Tom, how are you with rodent bites?) Since the above confrontation, Tom has made incredible progress confronting his fear and is now carrying a water bottle with him to work. With diligence and courage, soon I hope he will begin drinking it. When that time comes, Tom - and anyone out there who doesn't get enough fluids in their tank - I recommend employing a drinking straw of a cheerful and inviting shape. While the aforementioned sea angel wouldn't have been so sloppy as to allow me to develop a trauma-related phobia, I have, in fact, experienced trouble drinking water in the past, as I used to get so booze-poisoned that I could barely lift a glass to my lips. (Trauma-sans-savior related.) Using a straw, I found I could take in liquid much faster, and without the insufferable use of my arms! That 50-pack of smiley straws saved my life, I'm pretty sure. Though, those straws were part of the problem, come to think of it. Be sure to put the straw in the right glass.


I just nearly disgraced myself, reading this at Water Street as a break from commenting on papers. Way to make advice memorable. And huge praise to him for suggesting it as an advice entry.
Off for a glass of water ...
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