On Pins and Needles

Let’s be honest. I am not a risk taker. Everything in my life is generally quite calculated, planned and scheduled. A control freak, you say…well, I’d rather be known as a Jesus freak, but I would not rebuke that characterization of my life. I am who I am. Love me, leave me, or get on my calendar and we can map out a plan to change your mind.

Recently, something has been slowly chipping away at my OCD – obsessive control desire. It has led me to take drastic measures that I normally would never consider. And today, I did the unthinkable. Without weeks of careful research and without making pro/con lists, I made a visit to an acupuncturist. For those of you who know me really well, I know you just audibly gasped. There are so many implications running through your mind when I mention that I am seeing someone whose primary function is to stick numerous needles into my body. But I did it. And as usual, there’s a story.

Back in December ’09, I injured myself while running the White Rock Marathon. I finished the race, but it wasn’t pretty. I gave my body a couple weeks of rest, and then ran another marathon two weeks after that. I had a blast running the Disneyworld marathon with The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society’s Team in Training, but my body decided it would prove a point after that race and I’ve been sidelined ever since.

Through numerous attempts at various sports therapies, medical treatments, and thoughtful diagnoses but not resulting in my ability to run, I decided to try something completely different. A total departure from my left brain. A decision to visit Ms. Acupuncture. I made up my mind on a Thursday and saw her the next day. One point for me for spontaneity!

Dr. Happy Needle Fingers was very knowledgeable, very nice, and I was excited to start my “session.” After her explanation of how acupuncture helps the body to naturally heal by restoring its qi (/chee/,) I was hesitant, but ready to begin. Not knowing completely what to expect, I believe every tendon, ligament, muscle, and tissue in my body tensed as she prepared to insert the first needle. With my eyes closed and the hope that I wouldn’t embarrass myself by screaming out loud, I steadied myself for the first poke. I wouldn’t say that it was painless. In fact, I thought she had injected some kind of liquid lava into my foot. “What is going on down there?” I thought while I must have let out a little grunt. “You, ok?” Lava Lover inquired. “Mmm, hmm,” I replied as if she had just asked me if I was having a good day, but in my mind, I’m thinking, “Hey, um, isn’t this supposed to alleviate pain?”

The needles were inserted into my body faster than my second graders line up for recess. Some were painless and others produced a spastic jolt in my body that was absolutely impossible for me to contain. I kept telling myself, “No pain, no gain” as a way to calm down. I suppose my internal chant was not working very well because at one point, Sweet Chinese Doctor said, “Belinda…you are so sensitive.” You have no idea, lady. “I need you to relax.” OK…there’s come a point in time (and for me this happens just about once a day,) when what I want to say and what I actually say are so very different thanks to the Holy Spirit and the good teachings of my parents. When Little Miss Torture asked me to relax, I wanted to take every single one of her pain-inflicting metal spikes, shove them in her eyeballs and make the same request of her. Instead, I politely kept my mouth shut and began deep breathing. Two points for me for being courteous and not clobbering her.

After what seemed like seven hundred and forty-eight needles had been jabbed into my various meridians, I thought I had survived the worst. Yea! Two more points for me for being so courageous! Wrong. There was more to this crazy, ancient treatment. Apparently, a common practice of acupuncture is to attach some electrical stimulation to the needles. Now, I don’t know about you…but pictures of my mom’s story of putting a hair pin inside an electrical outlet resulting in her backwards propulsion down the long hallway in my grandparents’ house immediately came to mind. Breathe, Belinda, breathe. Lovely Doctor Lady would not try to kill you in her office. Now calm down.

After being successfully hooked up to the electrical stimulation, she walked around the bed to face me, placed a bell in front of me (“in case you need me,”) turned off the lights and left the room. Really? Really. You’re going to leave me in here all alone with scary shrapnel shooting out of me and shocking electricity shooting into me. I wasn’t sure if I could handle this. Regret. Doubt. Worry. Sheer panic filled my 9-volt body.

Well, as you can tell, I survived. After the doctor had removed all her pesky metal toothpicks, I gathered my things and possibly my dignity and approached the receptionist. “Don’t you feel so relaxed?” she inquired with a longing look on her face that implied that she wanted to trade places with me. I laughed. “Well, uh, no, I don’t. But thanks for asking. No, I felt like I was on pins and needles the whole time.” Not getting my pathetic attempt at a little acupuncture humor, she flashed me her sugary smile and said, “Well, tomorrow will be better.” What? There’s a sequel? Oh joy, my blocked qi and I get to do this again tomorrow. Awesome.