Gingerly

I love the tea service in the movie Slumdog Millionaire, and now Fiona is my chai walla (tea server - and I fear that I may have misspelled that terribly). I got some Chinese herbal teas yesterday from Dr. He, one for energy, one for nausea, and she is faithfully mixing boiling and stirring and serving them to me. I don't know if they're working.

Yesterday was my first experience with acupuncture and it was a positive experience. Leila drove me to the place, an old house that had been re-configured to be a doctor's office. We went in and it was very quiet and dark and peaceful and old-fashioned. There was a smell in the air of an herbal incense that was mostly pleasant but somewhat strange to me in my queasy state. A gentle young woman took me to a room and told me to put on a gown opening to the back and lay down on the table to wait. I took everything off but my underwear and put on the long white gown. It was pristine. It was like a piece of linen from Howard's End. It was bright white with little black marks all over it and very pretty. I felt like it was the best thing I have worm in the last month or so. I lay down on the low table which was about the same size as my body. I engulfed it. I am large. 

I closed my eyes. I thought to myself "this is the scene where the actress would feel totally calm and at peace with the world and have one of those transcendental experiences where everything is wonderful" but I felt too wretch to be it so I performed it as a little set piece.

There were three windows in the room, and the carpet was a dark green. The blinds were halfway shut so the light was coming in in a dappled way, and I could hear traffic and dogs barking outside. English professor comment: does that mean that you could hear the traffic barking? Maybe you don't know how to write. 

Back to the blog: The sun was streaming in. It was all extremely peaceful and wonderful, but I could not really enjoy it, unless I tried to enjoy it from the side, from a few feet away. So I endeavored to do that.

Dr. He came in and immediately grabbed my arm with his warm hand and began to sort of massage my arm from the shoulder down to the wrist, rapidly, then jump to another extremity, all the while walking around and around and around me on the table alternately grasping my legs, feet, arms, hands, and massaging them. He gently addressed my head and my neck. He touched my stomach and my chest. He did all of this rapidly and very warmly and very gently and it was wonderful and very reassuring. He spoke to me about cancer in the body and asked me all about how I was feeling. I had written five or six pages of notes, actually that's a lie, why do I keep lying? I had filled out five or six pages of notes and forms and written a lot. He'd already studied that but he was asking me more questions. 

I learned a few interesting things, like this.

On the day that you receive chemotherapy you should not support your body. Why is this? Because then you're supporting the cancer cells. He said do not drink antioxidants or eat superhealthy food on that day. Cancer cells are going to be attacked, anything you do to support your body will only support them. Also, he said don't eat a lot of processed sugar in general, it's not good for your body and it helps cancer grow. I already knew that.

So here was the acupuncture experience, in case you've never had it: he took 2-3 inch fragile bendy needles that were very thin and hollow, and tapped them into my body. At each place that he replaced the needle he would put a warm hand down on the place, and then with the other hand tap firmly twice. Tap tap. Tap tap. Tap tap. And with the second tap, the needle would go in. I didn't actually look to see how this was accomplished, I kept my eyes closed and kept relaxed. I was not nervous at all. 

Most of the needles did not hurt when they went in. Every once in a while there was a weird twinge, or a little prick. Overall it was relatively pleasant. His hands were so warm and gentle, and he kept going around and around and around fashion. He was eddying around me.

He put about 12 needles in each of my arms and legs, one between my eyes, one on my throat, one on my stomach, and a few on my feet. When he was done, which only took about two or three minutes, he said to rest now and I will come back.

I lay still. I tried to imagine each needle. After a while I was so curious that I lifted my head very gently to look around. I was worried that if I bent my neck too much a sharp needle would stab me in the windpipe and kill me. I looked down at my body, which was like a huge white landscape. The needles were all over the sides of my arms, laying down flatly like hay in a meadow. I put my head back down. After a while one of the needles really started to hurt in my right wrist. It was twinging and twinging sharply. I wondered if maybe a bit of blood was trickling out. I thought wow that one really hurts I wonder if it's in too deep, perhaps I should take a look. So once again I gently croaked my head up and opened my eyes to down at my right wrist. But there was no needle there. This place of intense pain had no needle anywhere near it. I lay my head back down.

He came back later, withdrew those needles, and had me lay on my side. He then put a lot of needles in my back, one of which stung a lot. He left again, and for once I was able to rest. I actually fell asleep and felt....almost on the shores of partly fair. I dreamt. He returned. 

When I left I purchased some herbs for nausea and energy. I felt better last night, a little bit. Nothing magical. The jury is still out. I love the gentle calmness of the experience of acupuncture, but I am not yet sure if it's going to make me feel a lot better. I feel about the same this morning as I have been feeling.

Good things:

Leila brought me some Asian food last night - it tasted good. 

We watched the movie Marie Antoinette. I fell a little bit more in love with Kirsten Dunst.

Mike's brother Dan is in town.

My Michigan Nancy is in town.

It's 60° and sunny in Austin Texas.

My chai walla is faithful.

Here I'm in an earlier time, I think this is 1987. Vicki and Tina and I were trying to be very MTV and take moody black-and-white photos of ourselves. I didn't know that when I looked through that fence that I would be seeing myself here on the other end. I am exactly the same.