As a matter of principle, I like to do what my clients ask me to do. Usually, this is even a pleasure. A month or so ago, I had an unusual request from one of my long-time favorite clients, Hela at the Collection. Monica, the spa manager, asked me to come in and discover the newest treatment on their menu, acupuncture. This was I think her way of thanking me for some fun training and gratis product. Thank you with needles…??? I initially declined, but then reminded myself that I do have a rule about doing what my clients ask of me. So I relented, and booked a treatment for the 5th of November, which back then seemed like a very far away date.
Yesterday was the 5th of November. At 10:30 am, I arrived at Hela at the Collection, always amazed by the beauty of the space. I came so close to backing out of the treatment, but the lady at the front desk told me how she had already done 5 such treatments, and that acupuncture had changed her life. “You don’t even feel the needles,” she said. Yeah, right. Anyway, cancelling at the last minute would have been rude so I dutifully filled out the required forms, and waited.
In comes Sung – my acupuncturist. He leads me to the treatment room, and asks me a few questions: do I have pain anywhere? No. Am I ill? No. How is my stress level? I run my own business – enough said. Have I ever had acupuncture before? No. Am I afraid of needles? Yes. He is reassuringly calm, and tells me he is a third-generation acupuncturist, and that as I am in no specific pain, we are going to work on balance and boosting my immune system. OK.
I lie on the treatment bed, fully clothed (no shoes), and he covers me with a sheet. Before pulling out the needles, he feels my belly. Stomach, intestines, whatever else is in that general area. Apparently, from that, he can tell that I don’t drink enough water and eat too quickly. Hmm. He is going to adapt the acupuncture treatment to help me flush out toxins and relieve stress in my stomach.
This is when I close my eyes. I can’t look at needles without feeling faint (yes, I also get Botox with my eyes closed), even though he insists on showing me how small they are. And the treatment begins. To distract me, Sung tells me he is from Korea, but has been living in California until very recently. He spends part of his time at Hela at the Collection, part of his time working with an acupuncture professor doing research at NIH. All of this sounds very serious. He pauses. “Are you feeling any pain?” “No, you can begin.” Actually, during our brief discussion, he had inserted needles in my feet, lower legs, head, ears, and arms and hands. I didn’t feel a thing. I still couldn’t bring myself to look at the needles.
He said I should stay there about 25 minutes. I might start to feel relaxed, calm. He would be just outside if I needed him. Within about a minute of him leaving the treatment room, I fall asleep. Deep sleep. My phone rang (I noticed later) and I didn’t even hear it (which never happens, usually even just a vibrate ring will wake me up). Apparently, between the relaxing needles (!!), the infra-red light he placed over my naked feet to help with blood circulation, and my general state of sleep deprivation, this was exactly the treatment I needed.
It was painless. It felt relaxing. I had a power-nap mid-morning, and an extra spring in my step for the rest of the day. Thank you Sung. Thank you Monica. May I please come back?