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November 9, 2006


I'M ACU-PERFECT!: I just wanted to have someone stick those
needles in my face. If I had known I had to first divulge the
particulars of my menstrual cycle -- clots? color? pain? crying
jags?-- or my digestive feats, maybe I would've passed up the
treatment. But there I was on a Monday afternoon sitting very
close to a slim, dark-haired 30-something man with cute glasses and probably the calmest,
warmest demeanor I've ever come across. I was telling him that
there was really nothing wrong with my health, I just wanted
the needles. "So, you're pretty much perfect then,"
he said kindly. Or did he ask? The point is, he noticed.
We went on with the interview anyway. I told him
everything I knew about my health history -- my dog broke my
nose last year, my job requires me to stare at a computer screen
for hours at a time, my grandma had Alzheimer's, I've had a heart
palpitation or two in my life. Other than that, tip top. So he
looked at my tongue. He felt my pulse, or pulses -- my meridians,
as they're known in non-Western medicine -- concentrating intently
with his head bowed, squeezing different spots along my wrist
and forearm. It made my scalp tingle. He took his hands away,
sat for a second, smiled as if to reassure me that my constitution
wasn't rotten, and asked me if I had a sweet tooth.
Hello. More like a sweet fang. If I don't get my
daily chocolate fix I go batty. And do I eat a lot of bread?
The man was a psychic. The night before I ate a half a loaf of
focaccia. He suggested I cut back on those things. Try some more
sour foods, maybe some lemon. Ginger would be good, too, and
of course more vegetables. Everybody needs more vegetables. He
got the sense that my digestive system was, well, a little weak.
Same with my liver. My heart and my kidneys seemed strong but
at the same time constricted, kind of tight. When your organs
are imbalanced, your overall health is diminished and sometimes
the symptom presents itself as fear-inducing PMS. Acupuncture,
a 5,000-year-old form of Chinese medicine, can bring harmony
to your body by stimulating energy channels under your skin.
I should probably get to the news hook now. This
place, The Oasis: Chinese Medicine and Healing Arts Center in
Arcata, is very bad-ass. In mid-October they started this low-cost
clinic on Mondays where you can get acupuncture for 20 bucks.
The reason for this small-budget affair? Oasis Acupuncturist
John Servilio and Office Manager Rick Austin were having to turn
away folks with Medi-Cal because it paid such crap -- $5.79 a
visit. Hi. That doesn't even cover their administrative costs.
But kicking ill, poor people to the curb was giving them a serious
case of the guilties. The solution was pretty obvious, but it
took a couple months of planning.
Now, anyone can come in -- uninsured, poor, what
have you. There are no income evaluations or eligibility requirements,
so you could be filthy rich for all they know. What makes the
$20 clinic different from the regular one, besides the cost,
is that three patients share a room, each reclining in his own
zero-gravity chair rather than having his own room with a massage
table. They do this sort of thing in San Francisco, where the
low-cost acupuncture clinic movement began. People get acupuncture
for all kinds of reasons, arthritis, fibromyalgia, fatigue, insomnia,
mood disorders. Anything, really. Rick said that a number of
patients come because they've lived with chronic pain for years
and Western approaches like surgery and especially medication
never resolved their health issues.
OK, back to me. So when we wrapped with our interview
I followed John into the softly lit, yellow-walled acupuncture
room. Two people with little needles coming out of their arms,
legs and head sat very serenely, eyes closed in the chairs. John
took the needles out of the lady, who then rose with a smile
and floated out of the room. I took off my clogs and my socks
and got into my chaise lounge. Then I realized that my legs weren't
shaved and felt mildly embarrassed. At that moment though, I
was more focused on the needles. I'd been looking forward to
this, but now I was nervous and a little sweaty in the armpits.
John swabbed a spot on the top of my head with alcohol and stuck
me with a needle. It didn't really hurt at all, but my instinct
was to swat at it and scream. John must have sensed my discomfort
because he quietly asked if I was all right. Yeah, I whispered.
He put more needles in my forearms, my hairy legs and my cute
feet and then he left to interview another first-time patient,
took the pins out of the middle-aged guy next to me and brought
in the new guy. He got a needle in his earlobe and I felt slightly
jealous. I wondered what was wrong with him, and how that one
needle might help.
And then I had an Arcata moment. I realized that
that one tiny pin on this man's big body was kind of like this
one little clinic in a big, messed up country that has very big
health care problems.
-- Helen Sanderson
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