Visit to an Oriental Doctor

From my journal Sept. 6, 2008 (abridged):
Joy, my boss, took me to see an oriental doctor for my back. I was having pain and restriction of movement. She had to translate on the spot and go through a diagnostic survey with questions about my toilet habits, whether I sleep and digest well, whether I like to drink cold or hot water. Very different from home; not least in the fact that this was my boss being privy to this very personal evaluation.

So the doctor, once I went into his office, poked and prodded. It didn’t bother me, but he did touch areas where Western doctors won’t touch without alerting you to it and the intention, and receiving permission. Nothing scandalous, and always professional. Just different. I noted but was not phased that my boss was present all this time. The doctor did a bit of chiropractic, but not as sort of firm and assertive as doctors I’ve seen in Canada. He also used a hand-held massage thing on my back.

I was still having pain so he brought me to a table surrounded by a curtain and left me there for 10 mintues. This table, though was a massage table with little “fingers” moving up and down my back. Cool. He came back and gave me acupuncture. He used a few needles on my back but took them out quickly. Joy had told me before that he uses “medicine” on the needles. I assume it’s a mild topical anaesthetic or something. Then he turned me over and put two needles in each of my hands, two in each of my feet, and one on each calf. He left me like that with a heat lamp directed on my feet.

Soon a woman came and rolled up my shirt to expose my belly. She put some material over it, in a donut shape, and a towel over my hips. Then she brought this smoking circular pot thing and put it over my stomach, resting it on the donut thing, over my bare belly. It had burning herbs or incense but it wasn’t sweet-smelling. She pulled down an adjustable silver vent from the ceiling and put it over the pot to catch the smoke. I guess it was meant to warm my stomach in a particular way as well as provide some sort of aromatherapy. Some of the hot ash fell on me.

After awhile she came and took everything off, cleaned up the ash and took out the needles. Then she brought this big complicated machine. Picture the pneumatic armband they use to take your blood pressure but big enough to cover you torso. One by one a lateral tube (there were maybe six) would fill up with air thus giving a sort of squeezing massage/chiropractic. Pretty cool. And that was it. They took me out of it and sent me on my way. When I walked out I was almost in tears because my back felt no better. It only cost about $33 but I had been really hoping I’d get some relief. But after about 20 minutes I started to feel better. My back hurt less. They had suggested I go back for more treatment. A couple days later, I remembered a trick that my chiropractor in St. John’s showed me. She’d put pressure on a muscle knot for 60 seconds and it would loosen. I did this on the worst knot in my back and it worked like a charm. Such a simple thing.

I had tried to be prepared for anything, and take everything in stride. I found myself analyzing everything, with my very limited medical knowledge, in Western terms and not thinking in a Korean way, not accepting the Korean way. And I thought myself to be open-minded. I suppose my impression of oriental medicine going into it was not much beyond that “witch doctor” image. I didn’t quite expect a straw hut and rooster entrails but I didn’t expect a sophisticated pneumatic machine or special sensor to measure one’s aura. “Scientific.” They were playing Western classical music the whole time. Korea is weird sometimes.