Water = hydration = fewer aches and pains and less susceptibility to dis-ease

Background: Norm is the uncle of my brother-in-law Bruce and his wife Barbara. Norm had a passion for swimming, and for many years he was the control freak who forced everyone, at any swimming meet, to hold their breath in anticipation... because he held the starter's gun!

A few years ago, we were gathered at a family luncheon to celebrate Barbara's 60th birthday. As Norm came into the room I observed that he was looking pretty well, even though walking very slowly and with the aid of two sticks. He spotted me and beckoned me over with an imperious flick of his patriarchal head.

And the conversation went something like this...
'G'Day, Rozi. You gotta chair for this shindig yet?'
'Hey Uncle Norm', I replied, planting a bright tomato-red lipstick kiss on his bald head. 'Great to see you. Yes, I'm sitting over there.'
'Well, I wanna sit next to you, 'coz there's things I wanna talk to yer about. Help me over there, would ya?'

We got comfortable at the table.
'Righto, mate, what's on your mind?' I asked.
'They tell me you're one of them fancy healers, and I want ya to fix me.' He stared keenly at me from under his snow white, bushy eyebrows. 'I've tried everybloodything and everyotherbloodyone, and nothin' helps. Yer see, I gotta take four o' them bloody PanaMax pain-squasher tablets a'fore I get up in the mornin's, and another four at dinnertime to get through the arvo, then another four after tea before I hit the sack so I can get some bloody sleep.' He stopped for a moment, as if gathering himself together, then looked pleadingly at me as he continued, 'I'm countin' on ya, girl. Wha'da ya say? Will ya have a go at fixin' me? Bruce reckons yer pretty bloody good, 'coz you fixed that bit o' business he had down below for him. So if you can do that, can yer help me?'

'Norm,' I said slowly, looking him right in the eye, putting my serious face on, 'there's something I have to tell you. I don't actually 'fix' anyone. I don't cure anyone or anything.'

Quick as a flash, he butted in. 'But Bruce an' them said you was real flamin' good. They reckoned yer'd have a go at anythin'. Now don't yer go tellin' me they're wrong girl, 'coz I seen it with me own eyes. I know.'

'Hang on a mo', ol' mate, calm down,' I said, taking his hand and holding it reassuringly. I waited a bit, slowed the pace. 'Your body can fix itself. It was born being able to do this – part of the job description. Your body fixes itself 24/7/365 from the moment of conception 'til you die. But sometimes the job just gets a bit too hard and things have to take priority for survival.' I took a deep breath as I waited for that to sink in, then continued, 'Mate, you know when you cut your finger, do you have to tell your body how to fix it?'

'Well, no... I guess not,' Norm replied thoughtfully.

'Okay, then, hear me out. Your body is a healing machine. Absolutely millions of cells are replaced in your body every day! Did you know that? Have you ever even thought about it?'

'O'course I bloody haven't! Why would I?'

'Fair enough.' I paused, then went on. 'If your body is not healing itself and regenerating cells every moment of every day, you die. Does that make sense?'

'Yeah, I suppose so, when you put it like that,' he conceded in his rough, deep voice.

“The pain you have is because of the stresses your body is experiencing.

What I will do is find out what is causing the stress, thereby the pain, and we can go from there. Fair enough?'
'Yeah,' he answered, drawing the word out slowly, almost grudgingly. 'I s'pose.'
'All right then. So what's your main problem, Norm?' I enquired.
'Well, yer see luv, it's like this. It's me knees. They've just about given out on me. Damn bloody things. As yer can see, I can't walk without them sticks anymore and the pain, s**t, it's something just terrible; plagues me day and night it does. And, there's somethin' else too.'

'What's that, Norm?'

'Well,' leaning towards me as if to tell me a deep, dark secret, 'there's this big meet in WA in about six months or so and I'm desperate to be there to start 'em off, see. The kids reckon I'm a bloody old fool wantin' to go, but it'd be my last meet and I just wanna be there.' I could see the tears welling in his eyes as he opened his heart and bared his soul.

I waited for him to compose himself. 'Well look, mate, I've been delegated to drop you off home after the party so I'll have a look-see then, okay?' I assured him.

Later at Norm's house I did a BodyTalk System session following the BodyTalk Protocol. And the conversation went like this...
'Norm, how long is it since you've had a glass of water?'
He just sat there for a while, pondering, pinching his square chin with his fingers. 'How old am I now?' he asked with a cheeky gleam in his eyes as they flicked up at me.

'Well, I remember your 80th. That would have to be about three or four years ago I reckon.'
'Hmmm, I suppose you're right. Well, let's see now... I reckon it must be nigh-on 65 years or so.' And then he exploded. 'I bloody hate water! Can't stand the stuff!' banging his fist on the table. 'Wouldn't drink it if I was dyin' o' thirst. I bloody hate it, I tell yer!'

This, from an icon as a starter... for major swimming meets!
'OOOOOh,' I thought, 'bit of anger and rage there too!'

I gave him a summary of the BodyTalk session. Hydration, hydration, hydration! All roads led to Rome – severe dehydration throughout the entire body meant the kidneys were shutting up shop. The knees are governed by the kidney energy!

I told him there was one easy cure - and that he was the one in total control of it. He had to hop to it pretty quick-smart if he wanted to get back on his own two feet in time for the big meet in WA. I mentioned that the cure might cost him a coupla bob to set up properly, but it wouldn't break him. (Cost of a decent water filter.) He was all ears... couldn't wait to hear the magic 'cure'.
'Norm, right now and for the rest of your life, mate, the only real thing your body needs is for you to drink good old H2O... water! Good, clean, fresh water... er... mate!'

You might say those words triggered a mini war. He was not a happy chappy!

To cut the drama short, Norm's idea of drinking water was half a glass of water mixed with half a glass of cordial concentrate! It took a yoooooge amount of encouragement, support, coercion and reminding of 'The Goal', but in the end, he saw the light and got stuck into the water.

His daughter, Susan, a registered nurse, was brilliant and worked with me to get him drinking water.

Four months down the track he was comfortably drinking up to two litres a day, every day, and was down to just one PanaMax morning and night. Two months after that, he proudly boarded a Boeing 747 entirely under his own steam. He celebrated his final start, swimmers and spectators alike completely under his control for the last time, with a glass of water!

Norm departed the planet some three years later, comfortably (though I doubt quietly) sitting in his favourite armchair with a beer on one side and a glass and jug of water on the other, watching his beloved Cats win a desperately-longed-for AFL premiership Grand Final.

Author's note: Hydration is not just about the amount of water swallowed. Some people, even though they drink plenty of water, may still be dehydrated. The hydration of cells is a matter of water moving across the cell membranes and into the interior of the cells. Water must be able to move freely across the cell membranes in both directions, transporting nutrients into cells, as well as wastes out of cells. The body needs to be able use the water effectively in all its processes. However, ensuring that the body has access to a sufficient quantity of quality water is a good place to start!