Acupuncture: No Pain, No Gain

I’m at the doctor’s office today, very un-pregnant, when the doctor tells me to give it a few more months. I’m still healing from the surgery (which went very well) and he convinces me I don’t need to resort to the turkey baster method…yet. I ask him about alternative therapy and he’s all for it. He takes a prescription pad and scribbles down the name and location of an acupuncturist who can help with my endometriosis.

Here’s the thing. I write about alternative therapy. I blog about yoga and healthy eating over here, and I’m completely on board with massage, breath work, herbal teas, etc. . . but I draw the line at needles. There’s something about the idea of lots of tiny needles being inserted into my body that doesn’t sit well with me (I've heard that it does hurt, not to mention that two women told me acupuncture made their periods longer and heavier…the last thing I need!)

Later, I’m having lunch with my friend Elizabeth, and I run the acupuncture idea by her. She’s also squeamish about needles.

“I’ll go with you,” she says.

“Really?” I say. “You’ll go with me to my acupuncture appointment?”

She nods. We are both eating Chicken Tikka Masala at an Indian restaurant in Georgetown, and I scoop up a forkful of rice. But I hesitate before putting it in my mouth.

“You’ll hold my hand?” I ask.

“Yes,” she says.

“And you won’t freak out if I cry?” I say.

“I won’t,” she says.

Although it does dawn on us that she might pass out when she actually sees the needles. Still, I’d rather be there with her than alone with the practitioner.

But needles? I don’t know.

I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.

“You can write about it,” Elizabeth says.

Oh, fine. I’ll call the guy tomorrow.