Pins and Needles

Acupuncture? Here?

And we can't communicate?

Wait, talk to my wife.

After having been sick from allergy related illnesses for over four months and having tried, literally, everything I knew to do to correct the problem (including, but not limited to: two rounds of silly Korean antibiotics, three rounds of Zithromax, enough Sudafed to make the DEA take notice, Zicam, Airborne, TheraFlu, Benadryl, vitamins, kimchi, ginseng, and lots and lots of fluids), I decided I had nothing to lose by trying the acupuncture clinic down the street from my school. I'm all for natural treatments, despite my intense aversion to needles.

So, last week, I walked into the office, took my shoes off at the door, donned some slippers, and went to the front desk. (side note: God bless anyone who works a desk job in this country, at the bank, the doctor's office, public transit stations, information booths, etc. They are seriously some of the most intuitive, gracious people on the planet.) I managed to register and work out with the ladies why I was there. They soon had me sitting comfortably in the therapist's office gearing up for the inevitable, elaborate game of charades that always ensues at the doctor's office. The therapist looked at me and asked me (in Korean, of course) if I could speak Korean. I replied, "No" rather clumsily which garnered its usual chuckle. He then picked up his cell phone, pressed two buttons, and was almost instantaneously engaged in conversation.

Now, I have seen people in this country take calls in some bizarre places. I was sitting in a lecture at the DMZ this past winter, and the speaker stopped, not once, not twice, but three times, mid-speech, to answer his cell with no explanation or apology of any kind, so I didn't really put too much thought into who this guy was talking to. It is his office and his time, after all. Then he handed me the phone and gestured for me to talk. I said, "Hello," and was greeted by a female voice and a nervous giggle, followed by a series of questions regarding my ailments and hopes for treatment. After a few questions, the lady explained that she was the therapist's wife and asked to speak to him again. I handed the phone back and listened as he conferred with her and said goodbye.

I was then taken to one of the "treatment rooms" and had around 10 needles inserted into my skin. I sit in one of these rooms every time now, in a little chair on the floor, usually with a few other folks, with needles sticking out of various places in my hands, feet, and head for about 30 minutes. I have been back several times, and without fail, the therapist walks in, says hello with a huge grin on his face and hands me his phone which already has his wife waiting patiently on the other end to inquire about my condition. His wife and I have the Q&A down to an art, and I have never been happier to live in a country with no health information privacy regulations. I leave, feeling oddly relaxed given the whole needle thing, with several packets of tea, and the whole thing only sets me back about $5.

I can't imagine this scenario playing out at all similarly in the States. I am once again so grateful for the ever flexible, good-humored people of Korea who tolerate the foreign population with such kindness. Special thanks to the genial, English-speaking doctor's wives.