A perfectly round hickey at the base of my spine

One of the birthday gifts Jammer gave me a few months ago is an appointment with an acupuncturist. I've long thought of having as session -- partly out of interest in eastern medicine, but mostly out of the same clinical torture fetish that prompts me to look forward to having dental fillings.

I had been putting off the visit until such a point that I could put myself into a mental state that would be amenable to concepts such a chi alignment. But since the spinal MRI last month, Jammer has been increasingly insistent that I am confusing the role of the cart and the horse. Such is the nature of my crafty inverted procrastination that she was forced to cross her own carefully maintained protocols and take the step of setting up an appointment for me.

Admittedly, I did not know what to expect. I have not had any personal experience with naturopathy or holistic medicine and have not done much reading on it. I have been of the opinion that much of its benefits trickle down from putting the patient psychological state of wellness -- but I am largely of the same opinion about modern medicine. Still, all I had available to prepare myself were a few flimsy stereotypes, and I figured I best discard those if I were to reap anything worthwhile.

I was impressed by the offices of the wellness center. They definitely had the somewhat organic, feng shui aspect you would expect, but there were enough nods to a western industrial notion of a clinic to assuage the concerns of analytically minded folks such as myself -- they even had the obligatory stack of paperwork to complete.

The technician -- maybe I should call her doctor, but I'm unfamiliar with the accreditization titles, and since she uses tools, I will bestow upon her one of my favored honorifics -- was both engaging and professional. It is no small thing to feel that you are simply having a friendly get-together while someone is diagnosing you, but I imagine it is a skill critical to someone whose profession is to turn you into a pincushion. Truth told, she had me from the get-go when she demonstrated a keen understanding of what the MRI report had diagnosed. Plus she beat me to my punchline that though lumbar arthritis is arguably better news than a pinched nerve of displaced disc, it is a bit of a mixed bag because, well, what can you really do about it?

She checked the pulse on both wrists while chatting. I had never heard of a "kidney pulse" before, but it seems that mine is a bit weak. Then she took a look at my tongue -- apparently all manner of internal circumstances can be divined by examining the color and texture of the tongue. She was visibly surprised at mine; saying that mine was the best she had seen all day. The fact that I was so interested in her description of what she was looking for that a double-entendre did not even occur to me is evidence of her professional manner.

Then it was time for the pricking. This session, naturally, was to focus on my back, so I rolled over and placed my head in those ring-shaped face rests familiar to those who, unlike me, have had a professional massage. The harness for the arms that hangs below it is a nice touch, I feel. The drawback to the configuration, though, is that I was unable to see any of the rest of the process. I guess this is probably a feature for some first-timers who may be nervous, but I really wanted to see myself bristling with quills.

She said typically in the first session she used Japanese-style needles, which are thinner. I was tempted to say bring out the nails, especially after the first few placements: beyond a slight tap during insertion, I couldn't feel them at all. I received six to ten on various areas on my back. One at the top of the head, and two on each ear. She described what each point was targeting as she went, but I confess I lost track as I entered into what passes in my psyche as a meditative state. I do recall her explaining how the ridge on the ear represents the nervous (or maybe musculatory) system that runs along the spine, and thus that needle is for the lumbar, and that one is for the neck. The ears smarted just a little, but as I said, there was no pain save for a dull ache if I flexed my back muscles.

All in all, the experience was turning out to be better than I expected. But then came the best part, which was a complete surprise: cupping! Ever since I saw "Shower (Xizao)" I wanted to try cupping. I can't really say why, there just seems to be something visceral about it that appeals to me. These weren't fire cups, but contemporary glass jars with a pull-valve on the top that created the vaccuum (I am deducing this from tactile and auditory cues, I of course could not see what was going on.) She cupped four or five places along my back; the sensation was much what you would expect, but perhaps slightly more transcendental given the slivers of metal poking out of me. She also applied some burning mugwort and did some work with hot rocks, both of which are highly recommended.

And then  the session was done. She explained some of the results I could expect over the next couple of days. It's too soon to say whether there are tangible effects -- actually, given my rather detached relationship with my body it would take a major change for me to register something mentally. I did notice, as I was finally going to bed, that my back had hickeys from the cupping, including a remarkably dark one right where you would see a tramp stamp tattoo.

But even if I don't notice any long-term changes, the actual  experience was enjoyable enough that I think I will try a few more. Especially since my insurance will cover the cost with a co-payment.