When someone said “acupuncture” to me, the image that used to come to mind was Pinhead from Hellraiser. With maturity, though, I’ve developed an earnest desire to try traditional Chinese medicine. In the new year, the new me decided to take a stab at acupuncture (sorry!).
What
Getting acupuncture through Common Ground’s community services.
Why
Lifelong curiosity about traditional Chinese medicine.
How it went
My mind was blown and my body rejuvenated.
Walking into Region Ten’s Blue Ridge Center, where Common Ground provides acupuncture, I had no expectations for the experience. I wanted to stay open to whatever may come. I turned my first-timer paperwork in, and awaited my appointment time. When it arrived, I quietly crept into a large, darkened room with six zero-gravity chairs, including one for me. A quick look around revealed that I should sit and take off my shoes and socks. Soft, soothing music serenaded us as I liberated my toes.
After a brief, whispered conversation with the acupuncturist, she checked my pulse in three places on each wrist, then looked at my tongue. Her assessment: stagnation. I’ll confess I felt both seen and attacked (kidding, mostly). I spent the tail end of 2024 experiencing a condition I affectionately refer to as emotional constipation. Stagnation sure covered that, as well as the chronic pain I had mentioned on the intake paperwork as a reason for my visit. The acupuncturist explained that she’d do a general placement of the needles to get things flowing.
I reclined into a comfortable position while the acupuncturist grabbed her tools. She explained that clients feel slight discomfort when stuck but that there shouldn’t be lingering pain. She rolled both legs of my sweatpants up to the knee, making it clear why loose-fitting clothes are a must. Starting at my right foot, she placed 13 needles between my feet, knees, hands, and forehead. For me, the process was almost entirely free of discomfort. I felt the slightest of pricks in my feet, hands, and forehead and didn’t feel the pokes to the insides of my knees at all. Full disclosure, I have a decently high pain tolerance, but I don’t think it factored in here. The pokes caused less pain than a hangnail.
With the needles in place, the acupuncturist told me to relax for a half hour as the treatment worked. Some, she said, fall asleep while others feel physical sensations like floating. Soft snores from clients around me lent credence to her statement. Almost immediately, I felt increased blood circulation in my right foot and ankle. The sensations intrigued me, because my plantar fasciitis—a condition caused by inflammation of a thick band of tissue in the foot, the plantar fascia, that connects the heel to the base of the toes—in that foot had been acting up, resulting in stiffness and pain. When that fascia gets mad, it sucks worse than trying to inhale large peas through a small straw.
As I reclined, a flowing sensation spread from that foot to my entire body. The best way to describe it is that my flesh felt awakened. In one of those wonderful little serendipities that make great experiences unforgettable, someone began drumming outside by a large, frosted window at the far end of the room. As I watched his soft silhouette drum, the irregular rhythm complemented the steady thrum of my own happy heart. All felt right in the world.
