New Orleans Acupuncture is situated on the second floor of a Westbank office building, one of…read morethose industrial facilities endemic to suburbia that inevitably feature large swaths of plate-glass windows and depressing little peopleless courtyards. This particular office complex was so deserted I didn't encounter a single person on my way into (or out of) the acupuncture clinic. It felt like one of those post-apocalyptic movies where a sudden energy pulse or virus instantly wipes out all of humankind. The effect was not unpleasant.
I showed up for my appointment in the (empty) waiting room and filled out pages of forms, which required information on everything from my drug use history to the state of my anus (does it ever burn? [no.]). Acupuncturist and co-owner Chris Tran led me to a small, windowless room featuring a padded table covered with rustling white paper. Framed embroidery of hummingbirds and morning glories adorned the walls, along with a drawing of a naked dude whose body was striped with meridians and dotted with acupuncture points. (FYI, guys: There don't appear to be any acupuncture points on the penis.)
Tran spoke to me at length about my medical history and problems, then took my pulse and asked to see my tongue.
"You have a scalloped tongue," he said matter of factly. "That's a symptom of liver chi stasis, which causes anxiety and excessive worrying."
It just so happens that this is the problem I sought to relieve through acupuncture! I was impressed he could discern that just from looking at my tongue.
"We had one acupuncturist who didn't even talk to patients. He just looked at their tongues and took their pulse," Tran informed me, adding that patients could lie about their symptoms, but their bodies wouldn't.
After about 20-30 minutes of chatting about acupuncture and thoroughly and patiently addressing all my questions (e.g., "How was acupuncture derived?" "Thousands of years ago, a guy accidentally got poked in the back with a spear and then his back pain disappeared."), Tran got down to business, stimulating that sluggish liver chi by sticking pins in my ears, hands, feet and head. I've read a lot of acupuncture websites that are like, "Oh, it doesn't hurt!" And
contrary to what ye olde innernets tell me, sticking needles in your body does hurt. Some parts more than others.
"All the 400 acupuncture points have personalities," Tran said. "Some are loud; some are quiet. So some hurt more than others. It doesn't mean anything about your chi."
I lay there for a while (probably close to an hour) and listened to Enya-esque jams. Every so often, Tran came in to check on me, and he gave me a little pager I could use to summon him. It was pretty mellow; kinda boring. If you're looking for a soothing, spa-type experience with aromatherapy and mood lighting, go elsewhere.This is pretty no-frills stuff.
"You'll feel better tomorrow," Tran said as he plucked out the needles. He told me to take some kind of Chinese herb three times daily, and to get four or five more treatments spaced a week apart. He gave me a jar of the herbal supplements for no extra cost! Awesome, free liver pills!
I paid $95 for the treatment, which was pretty reasonable, I think, especially considering that there's no limit to the number of maladies you can address in one session. Follow-up sessions are $75, and they do community acupuncture on Saturdays for $40 a sesh. Heads up - there's an $8 fee for running debit or credit cards, so you may want to bring cash or a check. And not surprisingly, my insurance didn't cover it.
After the treatment, I was wiped out, so I just lay around and slept most of the afternoon. The next morning, I still felt pretty stressed out, but that evening, the fog lifted. I felt lucid and calm and generally positive about life. I scheduled my next appointment and have been dutiful about the liver pills. Overall, I give the experience a very enthusiastic thumbs up, and I'm sticking with the program (get it???? ).
