Needles

Dec 18^th, 2009: Needles

Ever since I can recall, I have been afraid of needles. Or perhaps it is not the actual needles, but the feeling that passes over me when they are suck into my body. Countless times I have felt a wave of nausea come over me, and I start to feel very uncomfortable. Then, I faint. I have so many stories of fainting, starting with when I was in kindergarten and fainted in front of my whole class (That was due to a high fever, however, not needles).

So you can imagine how surprised my family was when I told them I was going to start doing acupuncture. “That’s ironic,” my sister said, “Don’ t you hate needles?”

At this point in the game of gastroparesis, I was willing to try anything. I did some searching on the internet, and came across a woman who looked well qualified and experienced. I was nervous on the first visit. As I took off my shoes outside of the waiting room, I could feel myself growing uneasy. I felt warm and slightly queasy.  After waiting a few moments and leafing through eastern health books, Kayla called me into the treatment room. She asked me all sorts of questions: some were like any health practioner would ask such as “What is your (medical) family history?” and “What illnesses, surgeries ect have you had?” Others were out of the ordinary for my Western upbringing. Questions such as, “When do you feel you have the most energy; morning, noon, or night?” And “What sorts of foods do you have a tendency to crave?” And rather than checking my reflexes or my height and weight, Kayla looked at my tongue more carefully than I ever have looked at it, and took copious notes on its appearance. As we went through this introduction, I watched the clock tick by. Maybe, I thought, there would not be any needles today. Perhaps this first visit would just be information gathering. As if Kayla was reading my thoughts she said, “Okay, if you want to get up on the table, we can begin the treatment”.

I climbed up on the table. “Do you like it to be quiet or have music while you have this done?” She asked. “Quiet is fine, “I responded. I laid back on the table. “I am going to start by putting some on your head,” she said. I cringed saying, “Actually, if you don’t mind, I would rather not know where you will be sticking them.” “No problem,” She responded, kindly.  Asking me to alter my clothing some, she proceeded to stick needles into my arms, mid chest area, stomach, feet, and legs. Usually I would feel a gentle prick, but sometimes an electrifying shock went through my body. “Oooooooh!!!!!!” I would call out. “Sorry,” she would say, “Some spots are more sensitive than others”. After she placed in the ballpark range of 20 to 30 needles in me she said in a rather upbeat tone, “Okay, see you in 20 minutes!” I think she saw my eyes grow wide. “Do you want me to come back half way through and see how you are doing?” She inquired. “Yes, please,” I said, with perhaps too much desperation in my voice. I could not imagine lying in a room by myself with that many of the oh-so-feared needles sticking in me!