This, friends, is a love story.
Ever since I became a convert, every other week I have to fight the urge to shout one word from the rooftops, one word to rule them all, one word I want everyone I know and love to understand because of its power to amaze, heal, and soothe.
One word that has nothing to do with corporate ladders, or life lists, or (Kevin) bacon.
I’m talking about the Church of Acupuncture (hallelujah! and) amen.
ACUPUNCTURE.
You guys, I mean it! ACUPUNCTURE.
Let me just make sure I’m being clear here: ACUPUNCTURE. Is amazing.
If I could pinpoint (ah, puns) the one thing that has been the most transformative for me in the past twelve months, I would pick acupuncture. Yes, more transformative than a marriage ending and an incredible trip to Asia, even. I told you this was a love story. And I’m really not kidding.
Ever since college (and quite possibly ever since high school) I’ve been prone to upper respiratory infections. The kind that make my head fly off to Jupiter, and my nose shoot yellow snot like a cannon, and my chest expectorate* clusters of evidence of my body’s own feeble attempts to rid itself of whatever germ has recently taken up residence inside of it.
A year after moving to Portland I got so sick that I physically shudder remembering September, October, and November of 2008. Even if I hadn’t been so sick that I ended up missing too much work and far too much sleep, so sick that once I started coughing I literally could not stop (and I started coughing every day, and every night, for WEEKS that turned into MONTHS, and no amount of Robitussin could seemingly quell the quaking inside my bronchial cavity), I would still probably tell you I dislike my “physician.” That’s me actually air-quoting “physician” because, as I’ve always understood their purpose for existing, doctors are supposed to help people.
I’m sure your doctor does help people. I’m sure your doctor helps you, even! That’s awesome. No, really. I promise this isn’t a post about doctor bashing. It isn’t even a post about my very not awesome doctor, even though since moving to Portland and thus switching physicians, my doctor hasn’t helped me do anything beyond a) get sicker and b) pay for office visits and treatments I wouldn’t have needed had she simply treated my symptoms when they first arose.
All of that to say: my dissatisfaction with my own physician (and with Western medicine in general) is why I turned to acupuncture in the first place, so to me the back story is more than a little relevant to this here (love) story.
I can’t speak to your personal experiences with your primary care physician, but even when I had a doctor I loved and who had been seeing me since I was probably eight years old, whenever I arrived for an appointment I waited until after my appointment time, and then was taken back to a room where I waited for the doctor to arrive, and then when the doctor finally did arrive I felt as if had about five minutes to rapidly recount my list of concerns, to which said doctor would rapidly respond, most often prescribing or suggesting nothing, beyond maybe rest, or water, and that was it.
Just to be clear, I am not a hypochondriac. (I’m also not judging you if you are.) Quite the opposite, actually. I’m the girl who clearly broke two fingers while playing basketball at some point in high school and never told anyone how badly they hurt, and so never had them reset, and so the tops of two of my fingers on my left hand are noticeably a little crooked.
I don’t call the doctor’s office to talk to nurses for fun, or to annoy them. (I worked in the health care industry for years, so I know there are people who do both.) I don’t call asking for a prescription unless I actually need one. And while I get that I’m not a doctor and never will be, I know my body well enough to know when I need antibiotics, and I would really like to meet the person who has the luxury (and sanity) to be sick for 10-14 days before being given anything that will make them feel better. I don’t call the doctor’s office when I have a cold. You shouldn’t either. I get that there isn’t anything to be done for a cold. For a bacterial infection, there is something they can do. They can prescribe antibiotics. But they won’t. Not until I’m legitimately sick for at least two weeks, thereby missing work and generally having such limited control over my physical symptoms so as to be deemed actually pitiable. And my doctor’s office won’t even entertain the idea of prescribing over the phone, even when my symptoms are identical to ones that must be in my chart, because they are the same (and only) symptoms I call to report any time I call them.
But here’s where the story gets less angsty and more joyful! joyful!
The first time I ever went in to see my acupuncturist, I didn’t wait past my appointment time, and when she herself took me back to her room, she proceeded to stay with me for two hours (TWO HOURS). We talked nonstop for the first hour while she took notes and built a chart for me from the ground up, asking me questions, and listening to me answer them, engaging in direct and meaningful conversation with me. The latter hour was for “treatment” as she called it, and it was the very first time I was going to allow, and actually encourage, someone to stick needles into various places on my body, and I have to tell you (I have been meaning to tell you!), after walking into that office with a headache that registered quite high on my pain scale, I walked out of that office with not an ounce of ache left in my head.
Not only did it eradicate headaches I had battled my entire life, but when I recently went in with my very own upper respiratory infection, a.k.a. Mucus Sickness Of Doom (MSOD), instead of looking at me with no sympathy and telling me I would have to be sick for a full two weeks before any medication would be prescribed–oh and I should just get some Mucinex, and also, drink some water–my acupuncturist told me how thankful she was I came in even while I was feeling miserable and was surely contagious, and proceeded to work some magic with those little needles, sticking them in my arms, and the top of my head, and my feet, and then, for the very first time, she stuck needles in my face. She stuck them in various places along my nasal and sinus passages and the immediate relief I felt when she did that was, I’m not even kidding you, transcendental. My head stopped hurting almost immediately, and I could breathe out of my nose, and for the first time in over a week I didn’t feel like I was going to cry when required to stand upright.
My acupuncturist also prescribed some herbs (Do I sound hippie enough yet? Kerrtopia, here I come!) that all but eradicated my sicky sickness and bright yellow grossness in a week. ONE WEEK. Whereas, the last time I listened to my physician and just waited to get better on my own, per her instruction, I was sick for MONTHS, and even after being prescribed a steroid inhaler for the coughing (and for what she called “viral-induced asthma”), I didn’t feel like I could take deep breaths and/or work out vigorously for any length of time without having trouble breathing for a very long time.
I will be the first to admit I don’t typically get down with needles at all, and especially needles in my face, but by George! it WORKS (from the very first visit, it worked!) and I’m a fan.
Possibly a fanatic as evidenced by this post.
At the risk of coming across like a trite know-it-all who just throws out blanket healing methods without recognizing specific sickness situations, please know that (of course!) I do understand Western medicine has its place in this world, and in my life, and if I ever get caught in a stampede of angry ostriches, you can bet I’m going to the hospital and not my acupuncturist’s office.
But, just as there is a place for Western medicine, there is, I firmly and wholeheartedly believe and will proclaim until the day I die, a place for Eastern medicine, and specifically, Chinese medicine. Because I’m really not exaggerating when I tell you acupuncture has saved my body, and my sanity, this past year and a half.
More than just feeling better, this past year and half I’ve realized I don’t have to settle for one version of medicinal healing. I don’t have to settle for feeling like a co-pay, or a rushed office visit. I don’t have to settle for feeling worse before I feel better.
I can just feel better.
So can you. You know, if you want.
*I can’t type that word without thinking of Gaston in Beauty and the Beast singing, “I’m especially good at expectorating!” And in case you have no idea what I’m talking about, here you go! You’re welcome.