Tuesday morning, I had my first appointment with an acupuncturist. I was nervous and curious and not a little worried that I’d get another one of “those” doctors – you know the ones – they know better than you. As you sit there, half-dressed on the examination table, they stand there and talk to you as though you were a child with a learning disability. They explain things in technical detail with as much medical jargon as possible (and an evil twinkle of glee behind their eyes that says, “I’m smarter and better than you because I’m a doctor”).
If you ask a question, they politely scoff and whatever vague excuse for an answer they give you is accompanied by a smug and very falsely patient smile. You can almost see the word “idiot” being projected between your heads, transporting you instantly to a time when you used to sit on the floor in your parents’ livingroom and watch “Sesame Street”’s silouhetted heads spell out basic words. If you question anything they’ve said because you might actually know what you feel in your own body better than they since you do have the advantage of first person POV, the answer is almost inevitably preceded by a derisive snort.
This is, of course, not to say that all doctors are that way. Far from it. In fact, one of my best friends dating all the way back to my college days is now a doctor. She’s fantastic with all her patients and she knows that I’m a good enough friend that if ever she did get jaded enough to start acting that way, I’d be the one to let her know.
Luckily for me, this doctor was nothing like that either. He was a very kind, knowledgable man who sat patiently and listened, a rare quality in a doctor past the first sentence or two. Typically, when a doctor makes a decision, his/her mind snaps closed like a heavy book. You can almost hear it happen. The rest are questions that you try to answer while still squeezing other important information into the encounter but you somehow know the good doctor’s filter trapped them and flicked them away like bothersome gnats. They hear the words they want to and the rest float up and into oblivion while they bend their heads studiously and scribble things no one else could possibly read down on a notepad. I find I always have an obsurd urge to tilt my head until I am between the paper and the doctor’s face and force him/her to actually look at me and acknowledge me as another human being.
Then you wait. Sitting there in one of those awful “gowns” that tie in the back – why is that, anyway? I can tie the one at the back of my neck with no issue but the other makes me twist my arms or body around in unnatural and uncomfortable ways and no matter how tightly you tie them, you still feel a breeze and know your unmentionables are “hanging out to dry” so to speak.
The gowns in the acupuncturist’s office were like luxury gowns as far as I was concerned. The ties went all the way around to the sides and I had no difficulty with them. He put me on the table and was very quick and efficient with his needles – I barely felt them at all. Once he put them in the tightest muscles in my back, I actually felt them relax. They just let go all at once and I literally felt like I’d melted into the table. I didn’t feel like I could move. It was bliss. No mere massage could have done this.
When I left, my legs were wobbly because the muscles were all so relaxed and I couldn’t believe how good it felt. You know how you feel after you go on a ride at an amusement park and laugh the entire time? That was as close as I can come. I was extremely sore that night and all the next day but the doctor called me first thing in the morning and he explained that a first experience is different for everyone and that it was normal to feel that way. Today I do feel better. I go back tomorrow and I cannot wait. I highly reccommend it to anyone who has ever felt stressed to the breaking point.
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