Nightmares of an Acupuncturist

Nightmares of an Acupuncturist
Photo by Fethi Benattallah / Unsplash

PART I

I'm always running late at my clinic.

Last night I was backed up with 30+ people in my waiting room. Most of them new patients, already highly skeptical. Just looking for a reason to tear me to shreds.

I give a hurried mingle to the sea of humanity in my waiting room, which looks like shit by the way. Old couches, broken chairs. Standing room only and those on their feet are probably much more comfortable than the ones sitting.

"I'll be right with you" I assure everyone and no one in particular.

I race off at a full sprint to get the first patient started. The hallway from reception to the treatment room is three quarters of a mile long. I'm sprinting through a sticky molasses and make it to the room, apologizing already as I press open the door.

The patient is already on the table, but it's not a table.

It's two more shitty couches, ratty, spaced a foot apart and the patient is lying across them like a bridge, their bare stomach hanging in the gap between the furniture.

"Are you comfortable?" I ask, because that would make exactly one of us right now.

Part II

Last night it was another new patient in terrible pain. We both knew acupuncture was the only thing that would help her.

I knew what to do, but had to be quick.

Not just because of her suffering, but also because, as usual, there was a restless horde of patients in the waiting room becoming more agitated and threatening by the moment.

I was running very late. Again.

It took this patient too many beats to get settled on the table, but once she was comfortable I approached.

That's when I realized that the treatment table was 15 feet in the air.

Upwards I climbed, thinking to myself how ridiculous it was to have a 15 foot high treatment table. So close to realizing something this insane had to be a dream.

Finally, and with great struggle, I made it to the top.

There was nowhere to stand, but that didn't even matter because just then it occurred to me that I'd left all my needles down below.

I woke up with a sinus headache, stumbling through the kitchen darkness to turn the kettle on...

Part III

Last night I was minding my business at home and suddenly started thinking about a patient I hadn't seen in a while. Startlingly I realized not only that this patient has an appointment today, but also the appointment was supposed to be 15 minutes ago.

As I scrambled to get dressed and out the door, it dawned on me that besides being very late for this appointment I also hadn't even been to my clinic in at least two months. Which means I've missed a lot of appointments.

Now that I think of it, I haven't paid rent on the space in months either.

I paused my panicked readying when it dawned on me that whoever I was renting the office space from had likely already evicted me and thrown away or sold all of my equipment, furniture, supplies and herbs.

With one shoe on I sat down on the floor, awash in the relief of the futility of it all.

I woke up with a stiff neck, the full moon pounding on me through my bedroom window.

Part IV

Last night I'm doing a back shu treatment on a new patient. It's her first time having acupuncture and she's hypersensitive. Fibromyalgia or a similar condition has got her nerves amplifying all pain.

I'm doing 3mm Japanese insertions with extremely fine needles. Reassuring her that it's ok. She flinches at every single one and I can feel the same pain she feels in my own skin.

Finally, after what seems like an hour, I've got a dozen needles in. I stand back to take a quick look and can't believe it.

All the needles that were spaced evenly across her entire back are now clustered at the base of her neck. Her back had tripled in length.

Now I had to do more acupuncture to get her whole back. More pain for both of us.

When I finished, again I stepped back to take a look, and again her back had become longer. All of the needles were still clustered at the base of her neck.

Waking up it wasn't easy to shake myself out of the dream.

"It's ok" I told myself. "You work 100% online now, remember? It was just a dream. You haven't had a brick and mortar clinic for years"

NOTE:

I moved my family 3,000 miles. Typically when an acupuncturist moves across the country there is an initial scramble to find a location and get a practice started.

I thought it would be an interesting challenge to see if I could skip that part and use my online skills to fully support my family of 6 without a brick and mortar for a year.

That was in 2022, and I still haven't opened a brick and mortar. I'd like to, one day. But it won't be because I'm desperately scrambling to feed my family. Rather it will be something fun, a bonus, on my terms. A way to interact with my local community, not a "job" with the pressure of existence behind it.

Anyone with even a basic Eastern Medicine education is sitting on a goldmine. One you learn to unlock your skills and put new fractal systems in place you can transform your brick and mortar, or even replace it entirely with 100% online systems.

Without zoom calls, telehealth, appointments, consults, discovery calls, funnels, email blasts or any of the other online soul sucks.

And the best part: when we do this right we never have to bend our medicine to fit into a generic box/model, or bend ourselves and lose integrity.

Online business becomes an act of personal cultivation...

You can learn more in the Damn Good Doctors Club.

See you.