Acupuncture is my anti-drug.
Alright, so, acupuncture.
I don't know where to begin. I shall start by declaring that it was, by far, the greatest high of my life. I cannot at this point in time (especially since I have to hurry up for my next appointment) put into words how absurdly soothing an experience acupuncture turned out to be for me. Ellen, my acupuncturist, listened to my problems, directed me to a chair, and, with a tremendous amount of grace and tenderness, delicately tapped each needle into its necessary acupuncture point, some without my even realizing they were already pushed in.
What started happening halfway through was strange. She had started with my right arm and was moving counterclockwise along my limbs. Before she was through with my right leg, I had started to shake. The slight convulsions had Bill worried (Ellen allowed him to sit with me for a while), as he'd only seen me shake like this when highly, highly emotionally discomposed. I assured him [and Ellen] that I was equally if not more perturbed by my shaking than they were. I was. I felt, psychologically, very calm save a few "eep! a needle!" moments I had in the very beginning. She kept applying the needles while watching my body carefully, but she said that though this was a first for her, she wasn't concerned.
"I'm not worried. I think you're letting go of something really big right now. So I'll just leave you to relax right now and I'll be back in a bit.... it is kind of cool to see all the needles moving around like that, though."
Bill moved to the floor at my side. He was still worried. I kept trying to assure him that I felt fine. In fact, I kept trying to ask myself if there was anything I felt uncomfortable with, because this mind-body dissonance? It was a strange experience. My shaking continued to slowly intensify until, at some seemingly random moment, it was gone. My body was still, my mind was calm, and I had returned to a state of understanding, for the most part, what has going on.
I felt great.
Ellen dismissed Bill to the waiting room and told me to continue relaxing.
It made me think a bit about energies given off without one's own knowledge. The needles weren't causing the shaking; they were conducting (transmitting?) the pulses that were lying in or passing through my meridians. That shit was there, inside of me, and then it was out.
After about an hour, Ellen made her final return to me, asking if I felt like I was done.
"I think I am... but I don't really know how I know that."
"Well it's just a feeling that you're through and you want the needles out now" she advised.
"Ah. Yeah, I'm there. It's not that I didn't like it or anything--"
She giggled "Oh I know you liked it. Lets get them out."
She called Bill into the room so that he could put my socks and shoes on for me (his job for the past few months). As he did, I grimaced and asked why he was moving so quickly. He shook his head and mouthed "I'm not."
Later, he told me that he when he came back into the acupuncture room, I had looked (and acted) as though we were doing heroin back there for the past hour. I remember feeling very soothed, peaceful, and slow. I felt no pain.
I noticed immediately that my knees didn't hurt. Upon standing up after any period of rest (driving, sitting through a movie, waking up [especially], or simply getting up from eating lunch), my knees are in such pain that I overcompensate for them with my hips. The result is usually a gait tremendously similar to Mr. Heavyfoot.
Well, that's all gone. It's remarkable. It's a fucking ridiculously, wonderfully, OMGtastically feeling to no longer have such a slow and painful start every time I stand up. I just stand up, and then I walk. I know that no one reading this can actually relate to what I'm trying to express here, but you must try to understand that for the past quarter, that was just not an option.
Bill still had to take me down the stairs by the arm, but that was because I was so, for lack of a better term, high. Too calm to be trusted not to fall down the stairs and into traffic. Okay not so calm, but close. To calm to be trusted not to fall down the stairs.
My fingers and feet were still stiff, but I was too excited about my knees to care. Also, I wasn't experiencing pain.
That night, I slept like a log (I haven't spent more than 30 full minutes asleep in at least 1 - 1 1/2 months). I didn't wake up from back pain, shoulder pain, hip pain, neck pain, some bent finger, nothing.
For roughly the following 24 hours, I slowly came down from my high. My knees are still painless with the exception of some twinges here and there, but that, I assume, is why acupuncture is not a one-time fix
Here's a picture I grabbed of the place. It's on the top floor of an old firehouse.
It's done in a group setting, which is good for two reasons: (1) it's true to the nature of traditional Chinese acupuncture, and (2) it's what allows the doctors to keep costs so low. One might expect the group aspect to be a little invasive, but it was actually a non-issue. Everyone was in her/his own world. No one made eye contact, probably because no one could. Imagine a heroin den. Everyone's all spent and wasted, slumped over their respective slumping spots, not noticing the people coming and going. That's community acupuncture.
Plus, it's right upstairs from a brewery.
And next to a coffee shop...
And down the block from a yoga studio...
Which is next to a thrift store...
And down the street from a cathedral-turned-theater (where we saw Kafka's The Trial)...
And surrounded by Obama posters...
Will Smith wasn't there.
Everyone's friendly and the parking was free.
West Philadelphia is awesome. I don't know what everyone's talking about.
Alright, I really gotta leave.
I don't know where to begin. I shall start by declaring that it was, by far, the greatest high of my life. I cannot at this point in time (especially since I have to hurry up for my next appointment) put into words how absurdly soothing an experience acupuncture turned out to be for me. Ellen, my acupuncturist, listened to my problems, directed me to a chair, and, with a tremendous amount of grace and tenderness, delicately tapped each needle into its necessary acupuncture point, some without my even realizing they were already pushed in.
What started happening halfway through was strange. She had started with my right arm and was moving counterclockwise along my limbs. Before she was through with my right leg, I had started to shake. The slight convulsions had Bill worried (Ellen allowed him to sit with me for a while), as he'd only seen me shake like this when highly, highly emotionally discomposed. I assured him [and Ellen] that I was equally if not more perturbed by my shaking than they were. I was. I felt, psychologically, very calm save a few "eep! a needle!" moments I had in the very beginning. She kept applying the needles while watching my body carefully, but she said that though this was a first for her, she wasn't concerned.
"I'm not worried. I think you're letting go of something really big right now. So I'll just leave you to relax right now and I'll be back in a bit.... it is kind of cool to see all the needles moving around like that, though."
Bill moved to the floor at my side. He was still worried. I kept trying to assure him that I felt fine. In fact, I kept trying to ask myself if there was anything I felt uncomfortable with, because this mind-body dissonance? It was a strange experience. My shaking continued to slowly intensify until, at some seemingly random moment, it was gone. My body was still, my mind was calm, and I had returned to a state of understanding, for the most part, what has going on.
I felt great.
Ellen dismissed Bill to the waiting room and told me to continue relaxing.
It made me think a bit about energies given off without one's own knowledge. The needles weren't causing the shaking; they were conducting (transmitting?) the pulses that were lying in or passing through my meridians. That shit was there, inside of me, and then it was out.
After about an hour, Ellen made her final return to me, asking if I felt like I was done.
"I think I am... but I don't really know how I know that."
"Well it's just a feeling that you're through and you want the needles out now" she advised.
"Ah. Yeah, I'm there. It's not that I didn't like it or anything--"
She giggled "Oh I know you liked it. Lets get them out."
She called Bill into the room so that he could put my socks and shoes on for me (his job for the past few months). As he did, I grimaced and asked why he was moving so quickly. He shook his head and mouthed "I'm not."
Later, he told me that he when he came back into the acupuncture room, I had looked (and acted) as though we were doing heroin back there for the past hour. I remember feeling very soothed, peaceful, and slow. I felt no pain.
I noticed immediately that my knees didn't hurt. Upon standing up after any period of rest (driving, sitting through a movie, waking up [especially], or simply getting up from eating lunch), my knees are in such pain that I overcompensate for them with my hips. The result is usually a gait tremendously similar to Mr. Heavyfoot.
Click to viewWell, that's all gone. It's remarkable. It's a fucking ridiculously, wonderfully, OMGtastically feeling to no longer have such a slow and painful start every time I stand up. I just stand up, and then I walk. I know that no one reading this can actually relate to what I'm trying to express here, but you must try to understand that for the past quarter, that was just not an option.
Bill still had to take me down the stairs by the arm, but that was because I was so, for lack of a better term, high. Too calm to be trusted not to fall down the stairs and into traffic. Okay not so calm, but close. To calm to be trusted not to fall down the stairs.
My fingers and feet were still stiff, but I was too excited about my knees to care. Also, I wasn't experiencing pain.
That night, I slept like a log (I haven't spent more than 30 full minutes asleep in at least 1 - 1 1/2 months). I didn't wake up from back pain, shoulder pain, hip pain, neck pain, some bent finger, nothing.
For roughly the following 24 hours, I slowly came down from my high. My knees are still painless with the exception of some twinges here and there, but that, I assume, is why acupuncture is not a one-time fix
Here's a picture I grabbed of the place. It's on the top floor of an old firehouse.
It's done in a group setting, which is good for two reasons: (1) it's true to the nature of traditional Chinese acupuncture, and (2) it's what allows the doctors to keep costs so low. One might expect the group aspect to be a little invasive, but it was actually a non-issue. Everyone was in her/his own world. No one made eye contact, probably because no one could. Imagine a heroin den. Everyone's all spent and wasted, slumped over their respective slumping spots, not noticing the people coming and going. That's community acupuncture.
Plus, it's right upstairs from a brewery.
And next to a coffee shop...
And down the block from a yoga studio...
Which is next to a thrift store...
And down the street from a cathedral-turned-theater (where we saw Kafka's The Trial)...
And surrounded by Obama posters...
Will Smith wasn't there.
Everyone's friendly and the parking was free.
West Philadelphia is awesome. I don't know what everyone's talking about.
Alright, I really gotta leave.