Alternative Medicine Run Amok
With one click of the mouse, I went from a respected 78 year old tenant of my co-op, to disapproving looks in the elevator and stifled laughter as I past, when the deluge of porn and sex toy catalogues started to arrive from Foxy.com. It started innocently, with the onset of Neuropathy, a mild but annoying numbness caused by lack of stimulation to the nerves, in my case the right foot. There is little research and no known cure, which is when I turn to my personal miracle man, Doctor Leo Fender, a Physiatrist, as little known a word as Neuropathy, but a lifesaver for everything from bad backs and insomnia to hair loss. Fender came into my life when I was scheduled for major back surgery, until he was recommended by a trainer at my gym, who he had healed after an accident that left her unable to walk. As I watched leaping joyously in her aerobics class, I thought of Estelle Reiner’s famous line in When Harry Met Sally and decided,” I’ll have what she’s having”.
My first appointment with Fender almost ended when I opened the door to his office, reminiscent the bar in Star wars, filled with a bizarre assortment of patients, reading old magazines, including a copy of Look with Grace Kelly on the cover. As I turned to leave, his nurse, an Indian woman in a sari, said, “I know it looks weird, but he will help you”, and he did. In the past three years he has saved me, and friends, from countless operations and untold pain, through methods you are more likely to find on pre historic cave drawing, then books on modern medicine.
His cure for the Neuropathy expanded even his boundaries when he prescribed, a Trojan mini vibrator to be inserted in, I held my breath for what might come next, and exhaled when he said, my sock; a location I’m sure the Trojan company had never considered. Fender had discovered that the vibrating recharged the nerves and in time corrected the condition.
I nervously entered Duane Reed, looking for a male cashier, reduced to my teenage self, when I bought my first condom; the one we carried in our wallet for so long it created an embossed circle in the leather. Walter, without a trace of judgment, directed me to the personal hygiene section where I found the mini , a finger shaped device, along with a selection of circles, rings loops and bullets. I told Wilma, the only cashier available, that my Doctor had prescribed it for my Neuropathy, which judging from her expression she thought was a venereal disease, or a part of the male anatomy that shows up after 70.
I immediately slipped the mini into my sock and it actually helped, as I chalked up another miracle to Fender. The only problem was that the batteries lasted just 50 minutes, probably ample time for its primary purpose, but not for mine, which required continuous vibration. Obviously I needed a rechargeable version, and turned to Google, which opened a new world of vibratory possibilities in amazing shapes, sizes, colors, materials, promises and testimonials; available from hundreds of picturesque sites: pocket-rocket, , smittenkitten, discreet-romance, lovehoney, Igor the octopuss, (the Godzilla of vibrators), fantasiaparty, dearlady, Adam&Eve, Too-Timid, goodvibes, rapidrabbit, and Dr. Approved, where I was relieved not to find any reference to Fender.
An exhaustive search from site to site left me with a feeling of sadness for all the lonely and unfulfilled people out there, but a new respect for the creativity and depravity of the human mind. After trying to imagine where and how, what went into what, I was about to give up when I found it, The Lelo egg: a harmless looking but effective item, “available in a soft to the touch finish with a floral design in pink, black or white, discrete carrying case with ac-dc re-charger. (Due to the intimate nature of the produce, there is a no return policy)”, which I found reassuring. I searched for a phone number, since the last thing I wanted was to order on line and have my information circulated in such a bizarre world , but was unable to find one, or an address other than Foxy.com. After much soul searching I filled in the required form and, made the fatal mouse click, and within minutes received dozens of lascivious emails with offers for things I didn’t know were possible for the human body to accomplish. Finally The lelo egg arrived and is doing wonders for my neuropathy, but the daily assortment of the catalogues, not in plain brown wrappers, but in all their perverted naked glory, has destroyed my reputation. Hopefully someone in my building will read this and spread the word in the elevator.