The midlife MOT

A much-needed spa detox brings Allison Pearson back from the brink

There was no hiding from it any longer. I felt awful. Sorrows come ‘not single spies but in battalions’, Shakespeare said, and over the previous few months a whole army had marched into my life, reducing a capable, resilient person to a wreck with anger-management issues. Partly, it was that time of life. I had a stressful job and responsibilities as a mother that didn’t seem to be getting any easier as the kids got older. To add to the fun, an undiagnosed thyroid condition had seen me pile on weight and, for the first time in my life, I was struggling to shift it. I was both fat and stretched too thin.

I consulted a menopause specialist who had recently told a Government committee that every British woman should have an MOT at 50. A midlife check-up that would spot any underlying health issues. The proposal had been rejected as too expensive. ‘What they didn’t get,’ the doctor said crossly, ‘is that women of your age are the lynchpin of their families, taking care of young and old and generally keeping the whole show on the road. If a middle-aged woman gets seriously ill then all of society suffers. A midlife MOT is actually a great investment.’

So, when an invitation came to stay at the Lanserhof Tegernsee, one of the world’s premier medical spas, I leapt at it. Well, I would have leapt, only my feet and my legs ached with mysterious pains, so I sort of staggered towards it, weeping gratefully. Like most women, I come pretty near the bottom of my own to-do list. The idea of six days in a beautiful place where people would be taking care of me felt scandalously selfindulgent, but my husband insisted that I go. The poor man was probably glad to get time off from Lady Macbeth and her mood swings.

Lanserhof follows the Dr FX Mayr method of digestive cleansing, but that’s where the similarity with other Mayr clinics ends. Those original, hardcore Mayr institutions always look forbiddingly spartan and dated. The thought of spending a lot of money for a week starving and staring at your own poo in conditions akin to a B&B in Bexhill circa 1967 does not appeal. But the minute you arrive at this amazing medi-spa, nestled in a soft green undulation in the Bavarian Alps, you know that there is nothing basic or

depressing about Lanserhof. Welcome to the ultimate, five-star detox, weary, stressed-out person of the 21st century!

Entering the timber-clad building, you find yourself in a cross between a White Company catalogue and a monastery: all pale-wood floors and fluffy bathrobes. There is a delicious smell of warm towels with a top note of herbal tea. Immediately you feel cocooned from the world. My room was vast, with its own sitting area, a bed as wide as a prairie and a view from the balcony of snow-capped mountains that lifted the heart. Even the loo came with a heated seat and more adjustable features than the dashboard of a BMW. Just as well – I was going to be spending a lot of time on it over the next few days.

The Lans Med Concept starts with diagnosis, followed by detox if icat ion. I repor ted for ‘bioimpedance measurement’, which I strongly suspect is German for, ‘Exactly how much trouble are you in, Chubby?’ Having been weighed, and with my results printed out, I went on to my first appointment with Dr Claudia Milz. A tall, sternly serene, raven-haired goddess in a white tunic and trousers, Dr Milz was my personal physician for the week. She speaks the kind of direct, truth-telling Germanic English that can be alarming, until you figure out she doesn’t mean to be rude. ‘Your British health service is good at treating problems once they are present. Not good at preventing problems,’ she announced. Dr Milz took a phone call from a recent patient. The clinic had spotted a small g rowth on the woman’s kidney, which had successfully been removed once she got home. The Lanserhof philosophy is that early diagnosis and lifestyle changes are better than cure.

As I was worried about a family history of diabetes, Dr Milz said she would run some blood tests, which would also check for mineral deficiencies and indicators of any other nasties. After palpating my stomach, so tender the pain nearly sent me through the roof, she announced t hat my g ut was ‘not happy ’. Blockages would now be removed by a combination of diet, exercise and massage. Jawohl!

Back in my room, I received my daily Health Schedule: more stomach manipulation, detox drainage, salt therapy, yoga, meditation, sessions in the gym. Plus I was to take Epsom salts morning and evening to cleanse the bowels. If I ever dared to be more than three feet from a toilet, I could take part in hearty Nordic walking.

For the first four days, I was put on the most restricted diet. The focus is on learning to chew properly so you become more mindful of what you’re consuming – 30 times for each piece of spelt bread, which the menu calls a ‘chewing trainer’. (Tastes exactly as good as it sounds.) For breakfast, the chewing trainer came with a teeny puddle of sheep’s-milk yogurt. Lunch was clear broth or tea. So, unbelievably, was dinner. A major hazard is that all guests eat in the same dining room and some are allowed actual food while others, like me, are on Oliver Twist rations. One evening, a Russian man was cutting a boiled potato and the smell was almost enough to make me reach over, punch him and snatch it.

Gnawing hunger is ever present for the first 48 hours, and I was constantly seeking ways to distract myself from thoughts of food. Daily massages, among the very best I have ever had, helped enormously. So did sessions in the gym with Christine, a trainer both skilled and goodhumoured. I also gulped down two thrillers and gorged on Game of Thrones on my laptop. Some wonderful musicians come to perform at Lanserhof in the evenings, but sitting there craving a glass of wine was torture when the bar offered only iced water and more Epsom salts.

Several of my fellow guests had come with a friend – a good idea if you’re not coy about sharing explosive bowel movements. There were a few married couples, but for the reasons above it’s not a top choice for a romantic weekend. There are lots of singletons to pal up with if you feel lonely. One glittering morning, I cycled around the nearby lake with Kate, a businesswoman who was burnt out after a hugely difficult period at work. Kate had calculated exactly how much her stay would cost, and concluded it was a worthwile investment if she could restore herself to top form. Nordic walking through the pine forest, a Swiss woman in her 60s told me that she came back every year. ‘My friends buy cars, expensive jewellery,’ she said. ‘I prefer to spend the money doing this for my health.’

I enjoyed the solitude, the merciful lack of mobile reception, and the chance to focus, for once, on what my body was telling me. ‘Allison, how the hell did you let yourself get into this state, woman?’ was the gist of what it said. Truly, it took Lanserhof to show me how depleted I was, emotionally as well as physically.

It was reassuring to hear from Dr Milz that my test s revealed I was not pre-diabet ic, although fatty deposits on the liver meant I needed to tame my sauvignon blanc habit. She prescribed supplements for magnesium and zinc deficiencies.

On day three, I had a bad ‘hangry’ outburst. Feeling too weak to go downstairs, I called reception to ask if I could possibly have lunch in my room. ‘But this is not in the rules,’ said the bewildered fräulein. ‘I NEED IT NOW,’ I yelled. The broth arrived a few minutes later.

Strangely, your body does adjust. The cravings die down. I was drinking so much water (at least two litres a day) that I felt like a bloody mermaid, but I definitely noticed the difference in my skin. The brain fug lifted and with it my energ y levels. I absolutely loved cycling for miles (the blissf ul elect ric bike taking the strain on the long climb back to the spa). Floating in the heated saltwater pool, looking up at the bright-blue Bavarian sky, I felt… Well. That’s it, I felt well. Truly, wonderfully well. Blessed with a clarity I hadn’t experienced for years.

Even Dr Milz seemed pleased as she palpated my stomach, which was now soft and not painful because all the blockages had been flushed down the deluxe, heated lavatory. ‘A happy gut, Mrs Pearson,’ she announced. Result! I lost eight pounds over the six days, but I also felt lighter psychologically. My worries had been detoxified and the supplements made those niggling pains in my legs go away. When I got home, the verdict was that Mummy looked like a new woman.

Why do we send our cars for an MOT and not ourselves? I would have one every single year, if I could afford to. Clever, calm, beautif ul, restorative Lanserhof.

I reported for ‘bioimpedance measurement’, which I strongly suspect is German for, ‘Exactly how much trouble are you in, Chubby?’

A week-long Lans Med Basic package, excluding accommodation, costs £1,390; lanserhof.com