Acupunk'd

I have been getting headaches since high school. They always come the same way in. Around January or June, I start to get headaches… usually about 3-4 excruciating episodes each day. Oddly, I always run into the same problems with the insurance company providing enough medicine to treat them. We do the same song and dance about how I need more pills than they’re providing… It’s like a timeless tradition like high school proms, sweeps week, or Easter.

The latest “cluster” of headaches, has followed a similar pattern. When I started to run out of pills, I started getting desperate… not desperate like this guy... more like semi-desperate. Desperate enough to seek alternative treatments, and that’s where acupuncture comes in. I have a friend who told me about an acupuncture school that is just south of Milwaukee. I'm adventurous, so I figured I’d give it a shot, I mean what if it worked... and at the very least I'd have something to write about.

The acupuncture school is a lot like a normal medical school but without being hindered by silly things like science or ancillary diagnostics. Their history focuses on things like whether I'm hot or cold, whether I crave sweet or salty, whether I usually find myself hungry or satiated, and of course what type of personality I have. (In case you’re curious, my answers are normal, neither, not sure, and maybe assertive?... in that order). They also asked me where I work, and when they found out that I am about to graduate from medical school everyone got a little nervous. Answers to my questions started to come with trepidation, and nervous sweats. Seemingly finding strength in numbers, they started to visit me in groups of two and three. They also started asking questions about why I was there, and what I wanted to get out of treatment. It was like going on a bad first date with a pregnant girl... you both know what the other person's thinking and no matter how much talking you do it's never going to be less weird... at least for nine months or so...

Then we move on to the physical exam which consists of looking at my tongue and feeling my pulses (checking pulses is pretty familiar, as we check pulses in Western medicine too, but we derive far less from pulses than they do). I was told that my tongue suggests that my chi is stagnant (depending on which student you ask the chi can be a number of different things), and my exuberant pusles signalled a strong personality... maybe even assertive. It was disappointing that all of my pain was due to my lazy or distracted chi (no worries though, we’ve spent 3 visits trying to whip it into shape).

My treatments have gone as follows. My first visit I got 10 needles (1 in the crown of my head, 2 in each hand, 1 in each shin and 2 in each foot). The second time I got 12 needles (3 in my right temple, 1 in my neck, 2 in each hand, and 2 in each foot). The last time I got like 47 needles I swear, I felt like a pin cushion (5 in my neck, 1 that was 3 inches below my umbilicus, 2 in each hand, 2 in each shin, 2 in each foot, and 1 in each ear). They insert the needles then let me lay on the table for 20 minutes while the needles take effect (which is a surprisingly relaxing time).

If the regimen confuses you… well, join the club. Every time I’ve gone, I’ve asked for an explanation of their physical findings and their plan. When I ask for an explanation, most of the students get really nervous or start grinning like they stole something. They usually give me some rambling explanation with one of the following phrases mixed in:

• “This probably sounds weird to you…”
• “I wish I could show you a picture from my book…”
• “It’s tough to explain…”
• “The body has energy that accompanies the function…”
• “I'm literally making ALL of this up… does it even sound believable?”
• “I'm crazy… literally crazy!”
• (Two of these were actually how my mind interpreted things they were saying…)

The whole experience has been simultaneously foreign and relaxing at the same time, like taking a vacation to Mars. However, after all of this, it’s tough to tell if the treatment is “working.” I do know that at the very least it’s relaxing. I also know that it’s been fun, because I’ve forgotten how bewildering it can be to be a patient. When I go to see my own doctor, I know the questions I’ll get asked and what they’re looking for when they examine me. So I'm never uncomfortable, I never feel the alien nature of a medical encounter because I see similar encounters all the time. When things aren’t explained completely, I can simply rely on my own knowledge or textbooks that I have at home to fill in the blanks. On Mars though, none of the normal rules apply… so I'm left at the mercy of people who are speaking a completely foreign language to explain complicated theories regarding something that’s very important to me. Don't worry, the irony of having to take a trip to Mars to be reminded of what my front yard looks like is not lost one me.