But Does It Work Though, Sis? - Part I

When The "Ayes" Don't Have It, It's Definitely A Hard NAY.

Though the term "hoax" may be an overstatement of fact, it was definitely a NAY for me.  Upon my receipt of an email blast from the referral entity affixed with documentation intended for my completion, I noticed multiple visible email addresses, and subsequent names on it--a clear negation of the use of the blind copy (Bcc) feature.  This gross oversight equated to a strong ABSOLUTELY NOT for me.  If someone could be so careless with such sensitive patient information virtually, what more could I expect in a brick and mortar reality?  And if I passed GO and proceeded anyway, and overlooked this faux pas, and something else happened, whose fault would it be?  

Exactly. 

Mine.

Clearly Jane's Addiction is Amazon.

Per AMZScout.net, there are over 600 million products listed in the marketplace--12 million of which are sold by Amazon itself.  In 2021 I focused my attention on purchasing fibroid-vanquishing and elimination products.  After experiencing an unfavorable reaction with prescription drugs in the early aughts, I opt for all natural and homeopathic methods.  Even the idea of aspirin is disconcerting to me.  But I digress.

I had solid figures from the ultrasound data and wanted to try some natural products.  I am also a scientist and conducted absorption tests on pharmaceutical drugs in Research Triangle Park.  I felt confident formulating an experiment and ultimately executing it on myself.  I'd simply use the product I select for a set duration of time and return to the licensed health care professional and have another ultrasound.  I'd have the numerical data readily available to establish the variance and decide whether the product worked or not.  

I pointed and clicked my way through a series of products and read through reviews, and decided on a product entitled, FIBROID SHRINK.  The name got straight to the point and it checked all of my proverbial boxes.  I wanted a product that was all-natural, easy to use and could be taken with liquid.  No pills to count and no hard tops to push down and twist.  The product had amassed several thousands of reviews at the time and I read both the favorable and not-so-much.  I one-clicked and the package arrived shortly thereafter.  

The application was simplistic enough.  Place fifteen drops in a bottle of water, and drink up.  

There was a thirty day supply and I rolled through bottle number one quickly.  So I bought another.  I'm not quite sure what happened with that particular batch, but I had an odd reaction.  I felt lightheaded and woozy and I immediately ceased and desisted from further use of the product.  

It's an alcohol-based product, despite claims of pure naturalness, and alcohol has an adverse effect on fibroids--enlarging them, and further inducing abdominal swelling.  I think the product was $28.00 at the time.  My mild disorientation paled in comparison with the idea that I could spend the rest of my life on Amazon pointing, clicking, sampling and searching for products that don't benefit me.  All search efforts were called off, and I halted my search immediately.  

Jane's Addiction was going through withdrawal.

A Course In Miracles.

I read Helen Schucman's voluminous books in the summer of 2016.  And while the poetry of the work literally brought tears to my eyes, I recall not knowing what it was actually about.  I literally Googled "but what is a course in miracles actually about?" and found myself giggling because of the sizable number of inquiries asking the exact same question.  I didn't feel so bad after that.  

But the crash course I got in miracle work is far removed from Helen Schucman.  I got intimately acquainted with MORINGA, whose moniker is The Miracle Tree. 

I once worked a job for one day at a fledgling restaurant.  There was one, single solitary customer in the twelve hour duration that I stood on my feet, behind a backwards-facing trashcan adorned with a a swinging flap, which, from the front, gave the illusion of a host/hostess stand.  I found it more advantageous to spend the next twelve hour shift looking for work at a more profitable venue than return and stand at the fake-hostess stand for yet another nonrefundable twelve hour duration of my life.  The venue was in a high-traffic area and was subject to occurrences of loitering and solicitation despite the signage posted outside intending to discourage such activity.  A straight-outta-NYC hustle man pounds the pavement right into the restaurant, fully equipped with a laminated one-sheet and canisters of powdered moringa.  He inquired if I'd heard of moringa and began his pitch and rundown.  I didn't escort him out of the restaurant, and rather engaged him in conversation.  Though I'd heard of moringa, I really didn't know much about it.  I didn't purchase anything and he left shortly after sharing the benefits of it with me.  I returned to the acts of boredom, toggling between twiddling my thumbs and scrolling on my phone.

Though hustle man and his arsenal of moringa-powdered canisters were long forgotten, he was summoned to my remembrance with the viewing of a YouTube haircare product review, in which moringa was cited as an ingredient for hair growth.  

I Googled moringa and came to discover that it had a multitude of healing properties, including being a mood stabilizer and cure for uterine fibroids.  This superfood was cited as being used by the Ancient Egyptians  for a multitude of ills.  

And Just Like That, Jane resumed her Amazon addiction.

But Does It Work Though, Sis?

Find out in the next post, whether it's YAY, NAY or a hoax.