Early Saturday morning on March 27, 1999 on a seedy corner of Colfax in Denver, 162 to 202 eyeballs scrutinized me. I was a “case study” at the Colorado School of Traditional Chinese Medicine, and 80-100 students and their instructor, Dr. Cheng, were closely observing me.
About a year earlier, I began getting monthly massages for my tremor and stiffness, which were symptoms of having Parkinson’s disease (PD). Pat, my licensed massage therapist, was also studying to becoming a licensed acupuncturist. Pat needed a demo patient for her presentation, and I volunteered to be her guinea pig.
The coffee-drinking students were tired from class that has ended at 10 PM the previous night. Initially, I thought they were bored, but then I later decided exhausted.
Pat presented my medical history, and her voice occasionally squeaked when nervous. Dr. Chen then asked me to stick out my tongue to look at its color, shape, cracks and coating because in Chinese medicine, the tongue is a map of the body and reflected one’s general health. I was worried that I had bad breath and was hoping that I had used mouthwash this morning.
Dr. Chen took my pulse on my wrists with his three middle fingers. There were 12 positions on each wrist that he palpated. Each position corresponded to a specific meridian and organ.
While my diagnosis in western medicine was Parkinson’s disease, my Chinese medical diagnosis was Internal Wind due to Liver/Kidney Yin deficiency, which had something to do with Yin, Yang (pronounced “yon” as in “hither and yon”) and Qi (pronounced “chee”).
I later learned that the core of this philosophy is that Qi or Life Energy, flows throughout the body, circulating through 14 specific pathways called meridians. Meridians are like rivers inside the body. An obstruction of Qi anywhere in the body is like a dam, backing up the flow in one area and restricting it in others. The goal of acupuncture is to correct the flow of Qi.
This Chinese medicine was Greek to me, but I tried to maintain a rigidly flexible attitude.
With his gentle and soft-spoken manner, Dr. Chen questioned, “What were you doing ten years ago?” I nonchalantly replied, “I was the director of finance for a large nonprofit organization in California and worked 87 hours a week.” He nodded his head as though he was familiar with workaholics like me. He believed that overwork without proper rest, depleted one’s energy and was related to the development of PD.
“If it makes you feel any better,” he bragged, “all my Parkinson’s patients in China were nuclear physicists.” I didn’t feel any better. But I hoped he was complimenting me on my intelligence.
Dr. Cheng suggested that I sip on “bone soup,” a concoction made out of boiling water with meat bones, resulting in a bone marrow broth. I winced and rolled my eyes, knowing it was not going to happen as I was a long-time vegetarian.
I was relieved that Dr. Cheng didn’t ask me to undress and needle me with acupuncture in front of the young onlookers. However, I would have gladly endured any humiliation to reduce my PD symptoms.
When leaving after the session was over, I decided to continue on my PD path, which now included traditional medicine, acupuncture and massage. I hoped that my PD symptoms would lessen. The Chinese measures helped temporarily. But over the long term, it seemed like putting a Band-Aid on a gunshot wound.
Early Saturday morning on March 27, 1999 on a seedy corner of Colfax in Denver, 162 to 202 eyeballs scrutinized me. I was a “case study” at the Colorado School of Traditional Chinese Medicine, and 80-100 students and their instructor, Dr. Cheng, were closely observing me.
About a year earlier, I began getting monthly massages for my tremor and stiffness, which were symptoms of having Parkinson’s disease (PD). Pat, my licensed massage therapist, was also studying to becoming a licensed acupuncturist. Pat needed a demo patient for her presentation, and I volunteered to be her guinea pig.
The coffee-drinking students were tired from class that has ended at 10 PM the previous night. Initially, I thought they were bored, but then I later decided exhausted.
Pat presented my medical history, and her voice occasionally squeaked when nervous. Dr. Chen then asked me to stick out my tongue to look at its color, shape, cracks and coating because in Chinese medicine, the tongue is a map of the body and reflected one’s general health. I was worried that I had bad breath and was hoping that I had used mouthwash this morning.
Dr. Chen took my pulse on my wrists with his three middle fingers. There were 12 positions on each wrist that he palpated. Each position corresponded to a specific meridian and organ.
While my diagnosis in western medicine was Parkinson’s disease, my Chinese medical diagnosis was Internal Wind due to Liver/Kidney Yin deficiency, which had something to do with Yin, Yang (pronounced “yon” as in “hither and yon”) and Qi (pronounced “chee”).
I later learned that the core of this philosophy is that Qi or Life Energy, flows throughout the body, circulating through 14 specific pathways called meridians. Meridians are like rivers inside the body. An obstruction of Qi anywhere in the body is like a dam, backing up the flow in one area and restricting it in others. The goal of acupuncture is to correct the flow of Qi.
This Chinese medicine was Greek to me, but I tried to maintain a rigidly flexible attitude.
With his gentle and soft-spoken manner, Dr. Chen questioned, “What were you doing ten years ago?” I nonchalantly replied, “I was the director of finance for a large nonprofit organization in California and worked 87 hours a week.” He nodded his head as though he was familiar with workaholics like me. He believed that overwork without proper rest, depleted one’s energy and was related to the development of PD.
“If it makes you feel any better,” he bragged, “all my Parkinson’s patients in China were nuclear physicists.” I didn’t feel any better. But I hoped he was complimenting me on my intelligence.
Dr. Cheng suggested that I sip on “bone soup,” a concoction made out of boiling water with meat bones, resulting in a bone marrow broth. I winced and rolled my eyes, knowing it was not going to happen as I was a long-time vegetarian.
I was relieved that Dr. Cheng didn’t ask me to undress and needle me with acupuncture in front of the young onlookers. However, I would have gladly endured any humiliation to reduce my PD symptoms.
When leaving after the session was over, I decided to continue on my PD path, which now included traditional medicine, acupuncture and massage. I hoped that my PD symptoms would lessen. The Chinese measures helped temporarily. But over the long term, it seemed like putting a Band-Aid on a gunshot wound.