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After the third day at the quaint massage parlour on Poppy’s Lane, Bali. The lovely owner said for the third time “You really need to take her to the Hindu Doctor to straighten that arm”. I looked at my eleven year old daughter. She nodded, she wanted to be able to swim and play sport again after months of having a broken arm. I slowly nodded my head. The owner was on her phone in an instant and in another instant her husband arrived on his scooter. She fussed around us, telling us “You need to get offerings and a jar of salt water for the doctor”. I just nodded in a daze, contemplating “Am I a bad mother”, taking a leap into the unknown of eastern medicine. The owner fussed and dressed us in her traditional clothing as we couldn’t grace the doctor in our vacation clothing. Then the three of us where on the scooter, flying through the busy streets of Bali. My heart beating, my legs squeezed tight around the back of my daughter hoping I could somehow keep her from falling off. Not an easy feat in traditional Bali dress. We went through tiny busy lanes, dodging other scooters and animals wandering around on their daily routine. We stopped at a little shack at the edge of the shimmering rice paddy’s to buy our offerings. Then on the scooter again through the middle of the paddy’s, my eyes darting everywhere taking in the daily lives of the Balinese in such beautiful surroundings. We stopped suddenly in front of a house, this is it, this is it, my heart beating frantically in anticipation for my girl. A dog stood on the stairs barking loudly at us, he seemed to be saying “Why are you here, I don’t know you”. We gingerly walked through the door into a corridor that ran around the house. There was a small curtain, which I could hear the doctor speaking to a patient which we could not understand. We waited on chairs next a Balinese man and son. The son turned and nodded to my daughter as to say “It will be okay”. We watched the lizards chase each other on the walls, the chickens clucking in the cages on the floor and two kittens playing in the corner. I was thinking “Please let this be ok, please let this be ok” as the driver offered me a cigarette. I shook my head slowly, thanking him. He could tell I was nervous. Then it was our turn. We walked behind a small curtain to see a man in a sarong and a belly that one could rub for luck. He gestured to my daughter to sit, while our driver and I looked on. He accepted our offerings and began his prayer. I was transfixed and suddenly felt relaxed. Then it happened, he put his fingers between the bones of her arm to move the bones. I am not sure what I was expecting but it wasn’t that he was going to physically move the bones. A tear trickled from my girls eyes and I think mine as well. Our driver could sense her pain and starting saying “Stop, stop you are hurting her” the doctor gave him a sharp look and within a second he removed his fingers from her bones. He then translated what exercises she would need to do and not to drink cold water as it stiffens the tendons. Then it was over. We were back in our daze and back on the scooter dodging cars, animals and people. The pain in her arm, my pain in my legs from holding on soon changed, as we started to laugh and comprehend what we had done and seen. In all the pain, adventure and anticipation it resulted in a good amount of straightening and an experience we would probably not have again.