Cynicism
Yesterday was my first day of acupuncture.
A long meandering drive. The 10 to the 110 to the 5 to the 2 to the 134, off at Rosemead, and into the Foothills.
I realized I was way too early. I sipped on coffee in the car and waited.
I walk into a brand-new strip mall business that’s been decorated with homey new age touches, lots of pillows and painted symbols on the wall.
There are two senior women sitting apart from each other in the room, and a young assistant, who are all gabbing it up.
One of the seniors, a beautiful boisterous human with a big gray afro, loudly says, “Well, hello there, young man!”
I greet them all, and the woman asks me if it’s my first time. I nod yes, and she starts the sharing. “Well, all you got to do is relax, child. Just relax. Don’t tighten your skin, think some nice thoughts and just let it go. We are of that age when we can afford to just let it go, right? What are you holding it all in for? Dr. Laura is wonderful, you’ll see. You live around here?”
I smile and nod no, as she continues, “I was also going to suggest the aqua aerobics down on Foothill, but you look kind of young. How old are you?”
I play coy and say, “I am of dating age” and the room erupts into sweet soft laughter.
Gentle and charming, the senior says, “You young enough for me, baby. I’m Irma. Live in Pasadena. And…” she points to the other senior, “What’s your name, German lady?” And sure enough, the sweet other senior answers back in a thick German accent, “Anna. From Arcadia.”
It’s an odd mash up between Designing Women and The Golden Girls.
They keep talking, and honestly, it does relax me, and my possibly tense skin. I have walked out of our current political world on fire into a cocoon of total ease.
They charm me as they talk about their knees, their ages, their phones, their aches, massages, Eastern medicine, on and on. It’s like the land that time forgot over here.
I look at my iPhone and it’s been fifteen minutes, and I still haven’t filled out a single form.
The assistant is very relaxed as well, with not a worry in the world. They just gab away.
I interrupt and I mention to the assistant that maybe I should check in, and she says, ‘Sure’.
She hands me her IPad and tells me to fill out my information on there as it makes it easier so we don’t have to repeat anything.
I plow through the questionnaire while the seniors grill me about Koreatown.
“Is it around here?” They ask.
I tell them it’s in L.A. and they both go, “Oh, L.A. You’re from L.A. I could tell you weren’t from around here.” Irma says. “But you’re not Korean, are you? You Armenian?”
I tell them I’m Mexican, and they both go, “Oh…” feigning something.
Irma says, “Well I’m Black.”
I tell her I gathered that, and it makes her laugh out loud.
Anna raises her hand and simply says, “German.” I nod in acknowledgment.
I pay the remarkable $8 co-pay and wish the ladies well, telling them how nice it was to meet them.
Irma says, “Oh, we’ll be here when you get out. I’m getting a massage and chiro too. By the way, I know a lot of Mexicans, we’ll have to see if we have any in common.”
I’m ushered to a small nice clean room, where I sit.
Dr. Laura enters almost immediately, and she is a formal, nice, Chinese lady. She never stops smiling and she maintains eye contact. Her accent is very thick & I notice that she automatically repeats everything twice.
She reassures me that my Bell’s palsy affliction is mild. “I can tell”.
She asks me about pain or discomfort, I tell her that honestly the only thing that hurts is my ego, I was hoping to model later in life.
She smiles, missing the joke, and in a matter-of-fact tone says, “Good to be realistic too…”
I love her!
I lay down and almost without any fanfare, twelve needles go into different parts of my face. I feel like the Hellraiser. I can’t really see what she’s doing, but I feel the tiniest sting with each one. She looks down at me and says, “We align your Chi.”
I keep waiting for nice to go away. For some tension to enter this experience. For something to go wrong, but nothing does.
Dr. Laura rolls in a machine. She seems to be connecting the needles to it because as she turns it on, I can feel the gentle electrical charges pulsating through some of the needles. An electrical current reawakening my face, or my nerves, at least.
I hear her say ‘Alexa’ and then she speaks in Chinese. Soft music begins to play.
She turns off the lights and tells me she will return in thirty-five minutes. She hands me a little bell to ring, in case there is an emergency.
I close my eyes and try to take Irma’s advice to let my skin relax. It’s not a painful situation at all, but it is prickly at least.
I let debates, climate change, and the Copa America leave the room. I just breathe. Soon other things leave as well; a hurt, some exhaustion, the way we last spoke.
It feels like ten minutes, but Dr. Laura says thirty-five minutes have passed.
She slowly pulls each needle out of my face and then does a gentle pass with her soft hand, as if to make sure she hasn’t forgotten one.
I hear her say, “Make sure you massage face every day. It’s fun!”
I make my way back to the front room and another sweet senior is in the mix, Mr. Fred. They are all taking about the heat wave, and famous heat waves they have known.
I sit and wait to check out. I know how this works now, so I wave at the assistant, who notices me.
Irma says, “Mr. Luis, what do you think about the heat wave?”
I tell them I failed advanced meteorology in High School, which makes them all laugh.
Irma opines, “Oh, you don’t have to know anything. You’re family now, we just want to know what you think about things.”
Why am I so moved by these seniors?
I tell them about a dreadful summer in Fresno, and an upcoming one I am about to do next week for an arts festival. They look at me fascinated. Irma says, “A writer! I knew it! If you need stories, I got stories.”
I sit with the assistant, and we set a follow-up appointment for after Fresno. She says, “Welcome to the family.”
I get in the car and think to myself, “Why not? Why not be family with Irma, Anna and Mr. Fred?”
I say yes.