| The pandemic has been great for my well-being in many ways, as I've said before. I'm sleeping more, exercising more and driving-and-swearing much less. But there is one area where I don't really feel an improvement, and that's in my back and neck pain. I think I'm sitting at my desk longer. I know I'm doing less yoga (I just don't find streaming classes as rewarding as going to one). And I can't remember the last time I made an acupuncture/massage appointment; there's just no way to social distance in that scenario. Before the pandemic, I would occasionally go to a nearby health clinic that offers traditional Chinese medicine (TCM) when my back acted up. (I had back surgery for a herniated disc almost 20 years ago, and though I do regular walking and some light strength-training and yoga to try to keep my spine happy, one wrong move or too much sitting can set off a cascade of problems.) I tried several TCM therapies at the clinic: acupuncture, cupping (which uses suction cups to draw blood to an area that needs treatment) and tui na massage. The cupping didn't seem to have much of an impact and left me with a polka-dotted back, but the acupuncture and massage did ease my pain. Was it the acupuncture, the massage, the combination or the placebo effect? It didn't really matter to me. It worked, and I went back as needed. When I would arrive for the appointment, the acupuncturist would place the needles, attaching electrodes to make them vibrate slightly, before training a heat lamp on my back and leaving me for about 20 minutes of peace. Afterward, the body worker (sometimes two) would give me a massage, which incorporates acupressure to help free up the flow of energy, or qi, along the body's meridians. It was not at all restful and could even be painful. But when it was over, I would feel like a wet noodle, with all the knots kneaded out of me. And I would usually be exhausted, in a good way. My husband and younger daughter also were enthusiastic visitors to this health center; in fact, they went more often than I did. And how did we find this place to which we were entrusting all our joints, muscles and meridians? Our neighbor recommended it to us. I don't think I asked a single question before making my first appointment, which made me feel a bit foolish when I read one of this week's stories -- "So you want to give acupuncture a try. How do you pick a provider?" In it, Kevin Brasler, executive editor of Washington Consumers' Checkbook magazine, offers a list of questions to ask any potential acupuncturist. Becoming an acupuncturist takes years of study and training. I know that, but had I asked whether my acupuncturist was a physician with certification by the American Board of Medical Acupuncture or the American Academy of Medical Acupuncture? Or if she was a non-physician but certified by the National Certification Commission for Acupuncture and Oriental Medicine? Or even how long she had been in practice? I had not. Literally all I knew about her was that my neighbor thought she was good. After reading Kevin's article, I looked on the health center's website; it didn't say where the acupuncturist had been trained. I tried emailing; I did not get a reply. I tried calling and couldn't explain my question well enough to the receptionist, who spoke limited English. Word of mouth is a great way to find plumbers and restaurants, but I'm not sure it should suffice for acupuncturists – even ones you're happy with. When I finally get comfortable enough again to have a massage and acupuncture session, I'll make sure to ask about her training and certification. In the meantime, if you do start receiving acupuncture, I hope you'll read Kevin's article beforehand and do a better job of vetting your provider than I did. Take care. |
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