I had my first appointment with an acupuncturist today.
It was…weird…?
That’s seriously how I’m answering everyone who asks me “so how was it?” “I dunno,” I say. “Weird?” And then they ask, “Well, do you feel different?” Again, I don’t know. That’s kind of like asking someone on their birthday how it feels to be a year older. It’s not an easy thing to describe.
I showed up 30 minutes early for my appointment (I know, I know. It’s my absolute worst habit but I am compulsively, annoyingly early for everything) and she wasn’t there yet. So I sat down and flipped through a magazine and chomped my gum and tried not to be too nervous. A little while later I heard the door open and I recognized Ms. (Dr.?) Acupuncture from the photo on her website. The first thing she does? Turns off the lights. Seriously. Now I can understand having dim lights for a soothing zen environment but here I was, a brand new patient, reading a magazine. And, yes, she saw me. She looked right at me. The nearest table lamp was all the way on the other side of the room so it would have been awkward if I got up and moved over to it, right? I was kind of worried that if I moved and pointed out that she had just done something phenomenally rude it would embarrass her. I don’t know why I should care about that but, in addition to being compulsively early I am also habitually considerate.
So I just continued to read in the darkness as though it were a perfectly normal thing to do. And when she came back and escorted me into her office she was as nice as could be. She talked to me for a few minutes and asked what I was seeking to accomplish with acupuncture and if I had any concerns and then, once that was out of the way, kind of sat there with her hands folded on her desk. I had to ask, “So…um…can we do some today?” And she was like, “Oh, would you like a treatment? I think I can fit you in. You’re in luck!” I couldn’t tell if she really hadn’t kept the time open or if she was just trying not to seem presumptuous.
From there we went into a nice little room with a medical-type bed and some anatomically ambiguous posters on the walls of human forms with lines and dots all over them. She looked at my tongue – twice – and then checked my pulse on both sides. She asked me a few questions about my medical history and sleeping habits and dietary preferences and scribbled a bunch of notes that I couldn’t read from where I was sitting. I took my spot up on the bed, which was heated and had a bolster to go under my knees so that I felt almost like I was hanging upside-down (but in a good way). I was just happy that I didn’t have to take off my clothes. For some reason whenever I visit a doctor of any kind, but especially ones where I don’t forsee having to wear a paper gown (are you listening dermatologist?) I always wear the most embarrassing underwear. And then I do end up in a paper gown. So I was a little more thoughtful about my foundation garments today but it didn’t matter in the end. Murphy’s Law, I guess. She turned down the lights and put on some music that started out sounding like the soundtrack to some European historical epic film. She swabbed my “points” and then started popping in the needles.
I have to say, it didn’t hurt but I did feel it. I don’t want to scare anyone off of acupuncture but whoever says “you don’t even feel anything!” is either less sensitive than me or is trying to look tough. It just felt like someone poking me with the point of a sharp(ish) pencil. Not painful but not unnoticable, either. When she was done with the puncturing (a few in my arms, between my thumb and forefinger, around my knees and ankles, and on the top of my foot) she turned off all the lights, told me to have a nice nap, and left the room for 30 minutes.
I closed my eyes and tried to do as she had said – to have a nice nap – but it never happened.
I got hungry.
My nose itched.
My skin felt like it was bubbling up from inside. You know, like those little twitches you sometimes get but all over and slightly less annoying.
The music changed to what sounded like soap opera themes.
My chin itched.
I worried about sneezing.
I wondered if there was a hidden camera in the room somewhere.
I thought about dinner.
I thought about a lady I used to work for.
I thought about pulling out one of the needles, just to see her reaction when she came back.
When she did come back in she turned the lamps back on and pulled out the needles (that felt super weird, like having stitches removed but more ticklish). She started talking while I was still lying down and I could hardly listen because my mind was going around and around trying to figure out if I was supposed to sit up yet. I decided to sit up and felt kind of stupid about it. She was just standing there over me, prattling away. I was dizzy and starving but other than that nothing had changed.
Can’t wait for my follow-up appointment next Tuesday!
