That running title for my weekly acupuncture treatment is catchy, but now a misnomer. The discount has run out and the cost has vaulted from “discount” to “premium.” My health plan isn’t covering it, so I bear this expense with a fair amount of wincing. I reason: Well, I’m thrifty in other ways. This is my health, after all. It’s not like I’m going to a spa for Ayurvedic treatments and hot-stone massages. It’s acupuncture, a practice that even the National Institute of Health has recognized as effective for the treatment of several diseases… none of which I have, but still, that establishes it within the annals of even staid government-sponsored Western medicine.
When Western medicine advocates acupuncture, the most frequently cited benefit is lowered stress via the release of endomorphins. Does this mean acupuncture has the potential to become addictive? What will my body do if deprived of its weekly needling? I see myself huddled in an alley with the other acupuncture junkies — “acupunkies” — fiending for balanced yin-yang and sticking dirty needles in each other’s spleen meridans.
Tonight M. stuck a needle in the top of my head, right where my hair part would be if I had parted it straight. I knew from M.’s website biography that she was keen on “scalp acupuncture,” but I never imagined… on me. Last week she stuck a needle between my eyes, which made me anxious at first but it turned out to be a very relaxing point. I think M. was working up to the top of my head. I must say, I bore the scalp needle like a champion pin cushion.
Speaking of champion pin cushions… the Chinese acupuncturist pictured at the right pierced his head with over 2008 decorative needles to celebrate last summer’s Olympics. His qi must be as unfettered as Niagara Falls. Before I started acupuncture, this picture would have totally freaked me out, but now… no, sorry, it still freaks me out.
