Taking the needles

BEING a human pincushion never featured that high on my wish list. So when I turned up at the Ch'ien Clinic on Tadcaster Road for my appointment with acupuncturist Annie Milles, it was with a degree of apprehension.

Acupuncture, as probably everyone knows, is the one where they stick pins in you. They're not pins actually, they're very fine needles: but you get my drift.

Needles and I don't get on. So as I sat in reception waiting, my foot tapped nervously and I shifted in my seat. I needn't have worried, though. Far from being an ordeal, this turned into one of the most relaxing experiences I've had.

Acupuncture is a system of healing, practised in China for thousands of years and based on the traditional Chinese belief in Qi (pronounced Chee), or 'motivating energy'.

Qi, the Chinese believe, exists both outside the body, in the world around us, and inside the body. Within the body, it flows through channels beneath the skin. The smooth flow of Qi, the theory goes, is important to our health. When the flow becomes interrupted or unbalanced, illness can result.

A number of Chinese forms of exercise and meditation, such as Qi Gong and Tai Qi, exist to help stimulate the flow of Qi around the body. Acupuncture, the Chinese believe, helps do the same thing.

Like other holistic forms of treatment, acupuncture focuses on improving the overall well-being of the patient, rather than isolated treatment of specific symptoms. By inserting fine needles into the body's energy channels, the acupuncturist aims to stimulate the body's own healing response and help restore its natural balance.

That's the theory. It wasn't much comfort to me as I waited.

Annie, when she appeared, was a fair-haired woman in her early forties, wearing a neat white doctor's coat. A former York University academic with a Ph.D in archaeology, she became an acupuncturist a few years ago after four years of training with the Northern College of Acupuncture in Acomb.

"I'd been receiving acupuncture myself and was very drawn to it," she said. "I thought it was something amazing and very powerful. I was passionate about archaeology and it has been a real surprise to me that I've got probably more satisfaction out of this. When somebody in pain or distress comes in and you can help with that, it feels a very special thing to be doing."

Yes, but sticking needles in people? We'll have to wait and see, I thought grimly.

Annie led me through to a small, quiet treatment room containing a consulting couch. Quiet music drifted softly from a speaker.

Annie's manner was reassuringly professional. I'd come with a half-concocted story about stress, stiff necks and tension headaches, but in half an hour of gentle questioning about my health and medical history, she took me far beyond that, uncovering everything from the recurring chest infections and back pain to my dodgy digestive system and the funny little floaty things that drift around on the surface of my eyes like stringy shadows. She's the first medically-trained person who's ever bothered to explain to me what they are (areas of condensed jelly beneath the surface of the eye, according to orthodox medicine).

Despite myself, I was impressed. That half-hour consultation was worth the fee in itself, and went far beyond anything I'd ever had from a GP. Already much more relaxed, I pointed this out.

"GPs only get five minutes," she admonished me. "It may be that a GP would very much like to have more time, but they haven't got it."

Consultation over, Annie turned to the acupuncturist's two other main diagnostic tools - both a staple of Chinese medicine. First she checked my pulse, pressing lightly and more firmly, checking pulse rate but also characteristics such as whether the pulse was 'full' or 'empty', 'wiry' or 'thready'. My pulse, she said, seemed empty and thready, which surprised her a little. Why? "You present yourself as somebody with a lot of energy. But this would indicate that you need building up, that your organs are not doing their job properly and the energy is going somewhere else."

Then it was on to the tongue, another Chinese diagnostic tool. What, just... put my tongue out? I asked. Apparently so. I did, and she scrutinised it.

"The coat of the tongue is quite thick," she said. "That suggests damp or phlegm in the body, which obstructs the way energy moves around." That, she added, tied in with the recurring chest infections.

And so to the needles themselves: very fine metal needles a couple of inches long. Different people reacted differently, Annie said. Some people could be a little sensitive at first, so to start with she'd be cautious and use half a dozen at most.

She decided to tackle the chest infection first, boosting my immune system to help fight off a lingering infection and prevent a recurrence. That required five needles - two inserted gently into energy points on my lower legs, two on my lower arms, and one in my chest. I rolled up my sleeves and trouser legs, lay back gingerly on the couch. The music played softly. Butterflies danced in my stomach. You might feel a slight tugging or tingling, Annie said, searching for the energy point on my lower leg.

Then the needle was in. And I didn't feel a thing.

The procedure was repeated four more times. Each time Annie 'manipulated' the needle slightly to stimulate the energy point. Then she dimmed the lights and left me, music still playing quietly, to relax. "Turn off that journalist's brain!" she ordered.

The needles tingled pleasantly, warming my whole body. With the soft music, I almost dozed off. I've probably never felt so relaxed. Twenty minutes later, Annie warned me I may feel tired later in the day. In fact, I was energised and refreshed, having released all the pent-up energy that comes from sitting at a computer most of the day.

Whether it was the needles, or the relaxation, or even simply the chance to talk about my health to someone for more than five minutes, I don't know. But my chest infection has gone, and I feel great.

Appointments with Annie Milles can be made at the Ch'ien Clinic on 01904 709688. Initial consultation and treatment costs £34, subsequent treatments £24 each.

See next Saturday's Evening Press for a Chinese New Year edition of Weekender

PICTURE:Acupuncturist Annie Milles at work on our reporter, Stephen Lewis