Korean Acupuncture

So, to begin with, let me say that this last Monday, January 4th, was apparently the most snow this region in South Korea has seen in approximately 70 years. On that Monday, when I walked to work in a silent, gorgeous snowdrift, smiling like a child at the beautiful blanket covering everything, and even after our hogwan "shut down" due to the snow, and we were all told to go home and come BACK on Saturday (I won't get into that right now), I was still thinking, "This is all totally normal. This is a typical winter in SK." It was only the next day when I saw my sister's facebook post with a link to a yahoo article about my history making situation that I realized this amount of snow was an unusual occurance. It's really cold here - no, it's not Quebec, or Antarctica, or any other various numbers of uber-extreme climates, but it's very extreme for me. The words of the Korean man I met in the airport on the way here last June have echoed in my mind more than once: "Korea is a land of extremes." It's definitely the hottest summer I've lived through, and now is proving to be one of the coldest winters. But, again, my experience is limited.

Okay, so on to acupuncture! Gina had been telling me (as have other friends of mine here, both Korean and foreign) about the benefits of acupuncture. One person was relieved of menstrual cramps, another of a painful tennis elbow, another with supposed reproductive benefits, and the list goes on and on. There happens to be an acupuncturist in my work building, and Gina had been taking her fiance there. His body had been ravaged by this cold, tense and unhappy, and he had been regularly visiting the acupuncturist for relief. She told me that before she went away and our opportunities for Korean experiences together would be impossible, just as with the octupus, it was a now or never situation, and we needed to go. With my insurance, the visit would cost approximately $6USD. Without insurance, about $9USD. Either way, I figured there was absolutely no harm in trying it out.

We walked into the office, which smelled a lot like burning herbs, and I filled-in a form very quickly. (Essentially just my name and address.) As with most things in Korea (at least in my neck-of-the-suburbs), the office was filled with mismatched furnishings, shoddy wallpaper - this was not your Western "clinical setting" - but the air was warm, and the Korean-only speaking staff was just as warm with me. Gina and I sat in the waiting room and drank a tiny paper cup full of a tea made of a mishmash of herbs that Gina said was "good for the health", as so many things here are. It tasted like licorice, was very dark like coffee, and was brewed in a coffee pot. Patrons could help themselves while waiting.

Soon our female acupuncturist came out and ushered us into her tiny office. Gina had been there before, so I was the one being examined. She spoke only Korean, so Gina was my interpreter. She asked me what was bothering me, and though it never occurred to me to visit the acupuncturist for any specific reason, I immediately thought of this recurring pain I've had in my lower left hip for more than a year. Going from a sitting to a standing position, or any movement up to down, has sometimes been so painful that I let out an involuntary, "Ahhhhh!", and then wait it out. So I explained the situation, thinking, "Who knows? It could work!" But, in all honesty, I was hoping more for an interesting experience than for any great healing.

I wish I'd written down everything she told me in the office. One of my favorites was that since I am a Westerner, my body temperature is lower than Asians, therefore I shouldn't have cold milk or eggs in the morning. She also said I shouldn't drink mekjew (beer) because of my body type. (Luckily I don't much anyway.) She also told me to lose 5 kgs (thank you very much) and that my skin was very dry so I should eat more oysters and eel. She seemed very disappointed about the condition of my tongue, and asked me if I was often very thirsty. As she was asking me these questions, she was feeling around and rubbing my legs and calves, as well as my arms, and a little bit of my neck. Oh, and she also told me that I had very pretty eyes (which warmed me up before the "lose 5kgs comment"... She's not stupid...)

So off Gina and I went to the tables. We were able to lie next to each other in the same "space". Gina had requested something for her "baby house" since she was soon to be married and had been concerned about all the inner workings down there. One of the nurses put a pad on her abdomen, and then brought what appeared to be a gardener's pot full of some kind of slowly burning herb, and placed it on top of the pad. She then connected it to a ventilator near the bed, and Gina rested (and napped) in that position for the duration of my procedure, which went as follows:

1.) Whilst lying on my back, acupuncturist places various needles into seemingly random spots, after having felt around for a while. For example, she would place a needle strategically in my foot only after having felt for a thoroughfare through my leg. I would say at this visit there were only about 10 pins, but I could be wrong. It was less than I'd expected. It wasn't painful - if you've ever been tattooed, the sensation on the skin is about 1/10th of that. The amazing thing was that sometimes, particularly in my foot and in my left hand, she would place a pin and wiggle it around, and I would actually *feel* it in my lower left hip, the place where the pain was. I was beginning to think at that point, "Hey, maybe there's something to this?"

2.) After all the pins were pulled out (about 15 minutes) I was told to turn and lie on my stomach, at which point my jeans were pulled down so that my whole, um... derrier was exposed to the light of day. Hey, I'd already been completely naked in front of hundreds of female strangers at jimjilbangs, so why not feel totally comfortable with just my bum hanging out at the acupuncturist? Then probably 30 or so pins were inserted all around my backside and the bottoms of my feet, and removed after another 15 minutes.

3.) Still lying on my stomach, the machine came with the electrodes (this may not be the right word) and they stuck the 4 little suckers all over my back. The machine would send pulses and when I turned around I could actually see the muscles and the skin expand and contract. It was a strange sensation.

4.) I was told to put my pants back on and come back tomorrow. Which I did.

Gina was unhappy with her baby house treatment. She said she could never feel the heat, but the nurse said her circulation was poor, so she wasn't surprised that she couldn't feel it. I have not yet understood what Gina is meant to do to improve her circulation, only that it is, in fact, not appropriate for babies to make a home in. I told her she should drink more water - the woman lives on coffee - but then, I am not a licensed anything.

On the next day, more of the same, except with these few additions:

1.) More pins. This time one was put into my face, in my lower left jaw (that was the most painful) and she put one into my left hand that sent a strange surge of some brain chemical throughout my body. I could actually *feel* the place in my hand connected to my brain, and then whatever was released in my brain going everywhere else. It was a trip.

2.) This time I got a different treatment before the electrodes when lying on my stomach. They took what looked like ceramic teacups and blasted them with fire, then adhered them to my lower back. I couldn't see, but I think the nurse used about 12 cups. Some of them hurt like the dickens initially, but I told myself it was a healing pain. After all, this is a time-tested, hundreds of years old practice, so I could at least appreciate that I wasn't going to experience anything that many others before me hadn't also undergone. I am no wussy - if someone else can endure it, then so can I. And Koreans are not wussies. (Consequently, after showering the next day, I had 2 teacup shaped burns on my backside. They have since disappeared.)

3.) It was longer. I got the impression that on the first day, they gave me the "foreigner dose". Maybe they weren't sure if I could take it? They treated me a little more carefully the first day, and the second day seemed more intense. The first day was a total of about 60 minutes, and the second day closer to 90.

After both sessions, I felt incredibly relaxed, almost dangerously so (because I had to go back to work after each). I also had a really puffy face. I don't know what that was about. Toxins leaving or whatnot? Regardless, here is the final verdict after my last treatment on January 1st: My lower left hip hasn't hurt once since then. We're talking over a year of pretty much every time I stood up from the computer, or from a couch, or from any position, I would feel the surge of pain, and then back to normal. Since the 1st nothing, not a thing.

Some people might read this and say, "Well, Vanessa, it's just the power of mind over matter," but the thing is, I didn't think it would work. I wasn't skeptical, but was more humorously experimental. I frankly fully expected my hip to still hurt, but my mind to be more open to new experiences. I have to say that the sensation of an experienced acupuncturist poking your hand, and then you feeling it in your lower left hip, is something to make you pause and think. Then beyond that to have them accomplish what they set out to do... Well, I don't know enough about the subject and I'm certainly no M.D. or even anything remotely near a science B.A., but I know what happened with me.

And I know that the next time my hip hurts, I'm climbing the stairs in my work building and visiting Mrs. Awesome Korean Acupuncturist, insert-degree-here.