The Big Stick

Never in my life did I imagine that one day, of my own free will, I’d be lying on a table with stainless steel needles sticking out of my body and paying for the privilege.

Yes, at one moment in my life, I could have considered it, as part of a circus act, if I’d stayed with a certain ex, (Right this way to the Human Pin Cushion! Watch her leak like a sieve after she drinks a glass of water!) except I was the one who would have been paid. Probably not enough for a grande cappuccino, but at least I’d be in show biz.

Yet there I was yesterday afternoon in Room Number Three, the lights softly dimmed, New Age music drifting from the CD player in the corner, the pointy points of ten two-inch-long needles worked into my skin: some in my ears, the rest in my feet, hands, forearms and calves.

And the worst of it? Not the needles - most of them felt no more painful to me than a mosquito bite, and once they went in, I didn’t feel them anymore. Not the money I was paying (as this guy didn’t take any insurance), not the questions in my mind of whether acupuncture would or wouldn’t work.

No, for me, the worst part was laying still for twenty minutes while the needles unblocked my chi or realigned my meridians or whatever magic they were promised to do.

I have no problem staying in basically the same position for a period of time, if I’m reasonably comfortable and my back and neck are supported. But being asked NOT TO MOVE IF AT ALL POSSIBLE was definitely an issue. I was certain that I’d have to sneeze. Or that my shoulders would start to twitch, which sometimes they do. Or something in my back would complain and I’d have to shift my weight to relieve the pressure.

The second worst part was trying not to fall asleep. It’s 3:30 in the afternoon, the low energy ebb of my day, and the only appointment times he has available. I’m lying down, the lights are dim, the music is soothing, the needles in my ears are designed to lower my anxiety, and they’re working. I’m practicing self-hypnosis so I can not only lay still but soothe the muscles that do not like being laid upon no matter how many pads this princess puts between her tender backside and the pea.

Sleep is good, you might say. If my body needs it I should go with it. Right? But not in my case. Because if I sleep in the afternoon I’ll have trouble falling asleep at night, and isn’t this one of the reasons I signed on for this mishegos? I’m not just letting some guy with a bunch of diplomas on the wall poke me full of holes for my health, you know.

To date, I’ve had three treatments. I’ve committed to four, after which we will evaluate my chi and meridians and sunspots and auras or whatever and see how I’m doing. Meaning, how many more visits (and how much will I be shelling out) before I get measurable symptomatic relief.

So far I haven’t noticed a lot of change. But then I’ve been told by people familiar with my condition that it could take six to eight sticks until I really see a difference.

I do tend to sleep better the night following a treatment. Sometimes I’m a little nauseated for a short time, which is usually relieved by a snack or a cup of ginger tea. I smelled like a burned cigar last night from the moxibustion therapy he added at the end (This is when a cigar-like bundle of herbs is heated and held close to the skin at certain strategic points until it’s too hot to bear. These points were at the backs of my knees and the base of my skull, and designed to loosen the muscles of my lower spine.) But I’m still willing to keep trying. Hey, this has been a staple of Eastern medicine for thousands and thousands of years, and why would they keep doing it if it didn’t work? It’s not the same as some of these less-studied modalities like polarity therapy and color therapy (If they’ve worked for you, great, but don’t be telling me I’m dissing them) that I see advertised in all the New Age magazines.

Hey, if it works, it works. If not, then I’ve had an interesting life experience and few good, albeit expensive, afternoon meditations.