I felt nothing this morning.
For the past five days, nothing greeted me when I got out of bed.
There was no ache, no pain, no reminder of how bad my back has become after so many years of walking, running and standing on this earth. Not to mention, jumping out of an airplane five times, landing badly my first parachute jump and hiding it from the military instructor who would have kicked me out of jump school had he suspected I injured myself.
Yes sir, I felt nothing piercing from my back. It all ended last Thursday at a veterans’ clinic for acupuncture when former clinical director Ed Cunningham stuck me with a dozen or so needles as I removed my shirt and laid face down on the massage table. I didn’t expect much. I thought I’d might get some temporary relief and I didn’t think anything of it until Friday morning when I awoke and got out of bed and spent the day unaware of anything dramatic occurring in my life.
It wasn’t until Saturday when I had more time rousing myself that I realized that I felt no pain in my daily ritual I call my “resurrection.” No suffering raised its head at the spots in the lower lumbar areas where I’ve felt pain for years and years.
I wanted to shout it out to the world that I felt good. But I didn’t want to jinx it. So I wrote nothing and kept hoping day after day that the 22-minute treatment would extend another day and then another day. It did. And I couldn’t contain my exuberance any longer.
My back is as good as it has ever been!
Sure, I still have pain in the dead center of the back. It pains me when I extend my left leg while putting on one of my socks. It’s a nerve, many of my friends with the same ailment tell me. My sciatica, I think it’s called.
But I don’t cringe when I swing my feet off the side of the bed and push the body to a sitting position. I’ve noticed a spring to my gate as I get off the bed while looking toward the floor for one of the cats that might have entered the bedroom at night.
Acupuncture did it folks. The acupuncturist knew exactly where to place the needles. It must have stimulated what needed to be stimulated. He stuck the head of the pointed pieces of metal into each meridian point, manipulating my senses and relieving whatever pressure must have built up over the weeks, months and years.
I’m looking forward to the next treatment. But maybe I can ask them to work on my “impulse control,” you know, the problem I have with boundaries. I could use a little lid to keep my unskillful mouth in check while sharing the beneficial words that we all can use for a healing.