Stick me

I feel a little less tired. I got some sleep. H fed me steak and lamb chops and kale. I am taking my multi-vitamin-and-mineral which allegedly has 100% of all your daily iron needs in every weirdly large pink tablet. I am, and I think this is important, not spending the day at work listening to the endless endless drilling and banging and crashing and thumping and sawing and cussing coming from the next room as my work-place turns itself inside out and then outside in again. As the students say when they come up to the help desk, ‘I thought you just finished rebuilding the library last year?’. We answer ‘well, yes, so did we.’

Work again tomorrow though. Watch my senses of humour, proportion, productivity and balance vanish through the week.

Where were we, before I fell down and lay there snivelling ‘I can’t get up’ for so many days? Oh, yes, acupuncture. Let’s talk about that.

My mother is going to a really rather terrifyingly snazzy clinic, which is featured in practically every article I ever did read about acupuncture. She loves it. She started going because her thyroid is a bit tired, but not tired enough for the NHS to hand over any medication, and because the mess of scars she has left over from her repeat breast-cancer-and-then-reconstructive surgeries were nasty and tight and lumpy and uncomfortable. Within weeks she was sproinging about like a cricket and the scars were smoother and softer. Seriously, I examined at the scarring, and it really does look better. Disclaimer, they could have been improving for a while, I hadn’t had a good look for a year or so.

As I mentioned a while back, ohh, end of June, was it? I told my mother I was thinking about acupuncture, in fact, H was researching (local, affordable) clinics, whereapon she leapt to her feet and announced that she would PAY for me to do acupuncture at HER clinic.

Umm. And H and I felt a tad steam-rollered, there.

But, said clinic, as well as being snazzy (hey, let’s call it the Snazzy Clinic!), is also regularly mentioned in the national press whenever the subject of infertility comes up. So, you know, chance to do Snazzy acupuncture at the Snazzy Knocking People Up Clinic, for free? Do I look like a mad-woman? I said yes please and thank you.

It is a very snazzy clinic. The waiting room is all leather sofas and subdued lighting and Buddhist water features. And copies of all the articles about the Snazzy Clinic that say just how amazingly marvellous Mr Snazzy is at getting women pregnant.

Disclaimer: I’m a cynic about alternative medicine. But I absolutely firmly believe in the vital importance of having someone listen carefully, at length, and with compassion, to one’s problems. The NHS does not provide this at all at any time.

Rationale: I need something to do while I whittle my arse down to ‘acceptable’ and am allowed to pass Go in the IVF board game. Just sitting about eating salad and bitching about the lack of ice-cream in my life, as periods come and go, and then wander off, as they do, was not cutting it, especially as the wait-loss is annoyingly slow (if, you know, nevertheless, loss). Of all the alternative medicines I don’t believe in, Acupuncture is the one I don’t believe in the least.

Where was I going with this?

Oh yes. Mr Snazzy himself was to ‘do’ my introductory session, in which there’d be no needles at all, no, not one. Instead, Mr Snazzy led me to a nice white room and asked me about me for nearly an hour. Calmly and sympathetically.

It was uncannily like being shucked. You know, like an oyster. Little handy knife of clever questioning in at the hinge, twist, and tah-dah! My soul on a platter of crushed ice being doused in lemon juice and tabasco. In a good way. For example:

  • We discussed what I wanted out of acupuncture. I said, brassily, ‘a baby’.  So we discussed my reproductive failures to date. Boy. They suck when said out loud.
  • We discussed the miscarriage. I cried. Um. Not over it, I suppose.
  • We discussed therefore the fact I’m not over it, and how pathetic I feel that I’m not over it.
  • We discussed my menstrual history. Which is untidy and unpleasant. This earnt me a lot of sympathetic remarks, which made me feel tearful and wobbly again.
  • We discussed my family and upbringing. Ohhh, this was bad. Through his eyes, his gentle questioning, my childhood looked like a chilly wasteland of unkindness, with me as a tiny weeny fluffy kitten meeping folornly in the middle of it all. I swear, I absolutely did not set out to give that impression, and it made me feel horribly uncomfortable.
  • And at the end of it all, Mr Snazzy seriously told me that I am at heart a bright, ambitious, opinionated, live-wire type person, and that the quiet, demure, slightly colourless me is actually all camouflage. I know this. I really did NOT want to hear it from a complete stranger who has been speaking to me for a grand total of 45 minutes. Especially as I have become me in an effort to be the good, acceptable daughter, friend and wife everyone wants me to be. Don’t tell me I did this to myself for nothing. It was bad enough doing it to myself in the first place. And now I shall drop this subject as it is threatening to get away from me and drown the post.
  • There you go, soul on a plate. *Shudder*.

Then I lay down on the couch, and Mr Snazzy took my pulse a dozen or so times, and then felt the temperature of my skin on my face, solar plexus, just below my belly button, and feet. Mr Snazzy announced that my pulse had no energy at all, and diagnosed an energy blockage.

I sat up and put my shoes back on.

Then Mr Snazzy said that for my first proper session, with needles and everything, I had better see one of the female practitioners. Oh? Well, because, as long as I was fine with it of course, one of the main energy unblocking acupuncture points is. Um. Is on the perineum. (Oh, thought I,  for fuck’s sake). However I told him, bring it on. The amount of people who have seen my perineum in the past few years is so huge it will not be noticeably statistically increased by one more.

And then I went to off to work, where I was suitably distracted all afternoon.

First acupuncture proper will be this Wednesday.

P. S. – It has dawned on me that my lady-garden is so neglected it is more of a lady-copse, or possibly spinney. While I am more than a little skeeved by Brazilians and similar, nevertheless, I feel I ought to give said female practitioner a fighting chance of finding my perineum. Especially if she’s wielding a needle. I think I have a date with a strimmer.

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13 responses to “Stick me

  • Womb For Improvement

    Just had to google perineum as I thought I had obviously got it wrong, and maybe it was a the top of the pubic line or something.

    Nope, I was right. Your taint. (Taint one, taint the other).

    Well I suppose the good thing is you won’t get to see the needles!

    Good to have you back sounding more sparky.

  • Rachel

    Wowie. I do hope you report fully on your first needle-filled acupuncture session.

    Although I was a bit tired of needles and all by the time I started acupuncture (which happened to coincide with the time everyone kept threatening to cut me open if I didn’t magically go into labor before my due date and all) I really enjoyed it in retrospect. Sitting in a quiet room, getting personal attention. Neat neighborhood. And while I was initially turned off by the wall of photos of babies, I really liked that my clinic had up both ‘surprise’ babies of those who had been trying for ‘some time’ and also science babies (i.e. IVF, etc.). Any wholistic medicene which is happy to operate simultaneously with more traditional IF treatments has my approval.

  • a

    Holy crap! That’s quite a bit of information* to stuff into 45 minutes. I do agree with you that a sympathetic ear from the right person can do wonders, but I don’t think I’d let that make me willing to take a needle to the perineum. Of course, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t even let them stick a needle in my purse either. I’m a big chicken with sensitive skin. I wish you luck, and I hope your pulse gets its energy back.

    Although, really, I have to laugh at your diagnosis, because an energy blockage? What a surprise!

    *Love the fluffy kitten image…

  • lynne

    Leave the strimmer alone! step away from the power tools….
    as a practicing independent (bordering on stroppy) midwife, I can assure you that your perineum is findable, even if your lady garden has become a veritable forest. and of course, we expect a full report on the acupuncture session – because we are empathetic -ok, nosy.
    btw, your blog is one of my sovereign remedies for -homesickness – I am an ex-pat living in the US

  • Xbox4NappyRash

    A needle to the perineum…

    Oi vey…

  • Secret D

    I’m glad I wasn’t the only one who had to google perineum! I’m not sure that I like the sound of it so it is definitely rather you than me.

    On a slightly different note, it sounds like you are in the same profession as me ;-)

  • Solnushka

    Good luck with the workplace from hell this week.

    I hope the acupuncture helps. It certainly sounds… diverting.

    And I’ve always thought you were a bright, ambitious, opinionated, live-wire type person, and not quiet, demure, or slightly colourless.

  • Minawolf

    I had my first brazilian a few weeks ago. I still wince when I think about it. I’ve been told it gets better after this first time though! Curious to hear how your session goes.

  • QoB

    a mirror, a scissors and 5 minutes alone should do the job. good luck:)

  • Betty M

    Ouch to the perineal acu. But strimmer sounds worse. Perhaps something less revealing than a Brazilian is in order. Cant think the right country for that.

  • May

    I should make it clear, that when I say I am a little skeeved by Brazilians, I mean I am HUGELY skeeved by Brazilians, and I am quite fond of my lady-garden and determined to keep most of it. I’m only going to trim the excesses. I am absolutely not going in there with the Agent Orange and defoliating the entire thing.

    I beg all readers who like having bald underneaths to forgive me for saying this, but, seriously, grown woman with absolutely NO fun-fur? Creepy. Sorry. To me, the adult underneath should be fuzzy. I am well aware that some very nice, very non-creepy, very sane, very balanced adults like smooth. Please don’t think I’m accusing anyone of anything untoward. It’s just, when I think of smooth underneaths, I think they look like children’s, and then I have to go and rinse my brain in laundry bleach. That’s just my funny little hang-up.

    Remember, strimmers only trim the verges. That is what I meant. OK? OK. Let us speak of this no more.

  • Aphra Behn

    Oh, the scenty candles and the Enya and the Zen water features… when WILL the NHS realise that we LIKE scenty candles and Enya and water features? That scenty candles and Enya and water features make us feel valued and appreciated and nurtured and all the other things that cheer us up and improve our pain thresholds and our responsiveness to drugs and actually – you know – make us well. And I agree with you, the 45 minutes of undivided attention is absolute and utter bliss.

    I must admit I didn’t realise ladies had room for a perineum, what with everything else we have tucked away in our pleasure gardens, but stick a needle in it, why not.

    Don’t forget to negotiate e a safe word though. :-9

    *hug*

    Aphra / B

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