Yes, I said "we." I'm
lumping you all in with me and almost everyone else I know. We're
wimpy. My sister said it best several years ago in a comment about
the "wussification of America." No, I'm not sure how to spell that.
She was speaking about the general wussiness of people these days,
and I'll see that new word and raise it to
another contextual use.
I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. If you have had a baby
in the past 10 years, you've certainly had to explain to a
grandmother (your kid's or otherwise) why baby has to ride in the
car seat for every little trip. "Yes, grandma, I know
we're just riding up the street to the corner store. Yes, she still
needs to be strapped into her car seat. Just because." Grandma
undoubtedly replies, "I never strapped your father into a car seat,
and he lived. He would ride all the way to Florida to visit Aunt
Ida every year and nothing ever happened to him." Then simply to
justify my own wussiness, I make up something about how I'll be
arrested if the police see me with my kid riding on my lap.
Some of you might not be
convinced about the car seats. They're important. Even I strap my
kids into those things just to ride up the street, and I don't
consider myself a huge wussy. Just start extrapolating this theory,
though, and you'll surely jump onto the "wussification of America"
bandwagon. We all drink light beer. Every kid gets a trophy. They
cancel school when it snows. I'm so hot walking the 10 feet from my
air-conditioned car to my air-conditioned office. I have to wait 3
whole seconds for my Facebook page to load on this old phone.
How does this relate to Acupuncture and Oriental Medicine? Well,
the wimps don't leave their wimpiness at the door of the clinic.
That is for sure. I can write this post without fear of offending
anyone, because I, myself, am a needle wuss. That's right. I don't
want to feel the needles. I'll needle you, but don't you
try to needle me.
Clearly I am not alone. Sure, you have a few patients who never
flinch when you insert a needle. They never complain that something
hurts or feels weird. These are the lovely "exception" patients,
and they are few and far between. Most of us recoil in pain -- pain
that is really just an unfulfilled apprehension of pain --
with the insertion of each needle. At first, I liked seeing this
reaction from patients, because it justified my own wimpiness. Now,
though, I've evolved. As I become less wimpy about needling myself
and letting others needle me, I think I subconsciously expect more
of my patients, too.
The people in Nicaragua
never flinched. We would jab those needles right into the sore back
or the tired feet, and the patient would hardly notice. Are
Nicaraguans simply a stronger people than Americans? Probably, but
I didn't stop there. No, what about the Chinese needling? So deep,
so hard, so scary for most Americans. Are they inherently stronger
than us, too? They want to feel that moxa until it burns a
blackened memorial into ST36. I would move to Japan, home of
"shallow needling," to avoid those 6-inch needles I've been told so
much about from the Chinese professors and clinicians.
No, I don't think it's
that Nicaraguans are freakishly strong or that Chinese people are
particularly masochistic. I just think Americans are caught in the
throes of the recent trends towards wussification. Be careful,
don't get hurt; don't let the sunshine get you! I reject
wussification insofar as I legally can, but I am still and will
always be one of the wimpy ones in the clinic when I'm on the
receiving end of that needle business. So, if you're afraid of
needles and therefore have not yet tried acupuncture, this post is
for you. If I can do it, you can do it.
Nights in Nicaragua were dark. It wasn't just because
electricity was on short supply, although that was true. Nights
were serious, reflective, and quiet...because days were bright,
hot, and characterized by exhausting work in the clinic. During our
10-day program at NDI's integrative medical clinic in Nicaragua, we
volunteers maxed and relaxed as we bounced along at the whim of the
country, its people, and its water shortage.
"Are you coming back next year?" is a question that I heard my
own voice and those of others asking from Day 1. Because of the
earthquakes, the water shortage, the power loss, and the
run-of-the-mill "getting to know you" period with the new doctor,
many of the responding voices said, "No." By day 10, there was a
noticeable shift towards "YES." How did Nicaragua dig into our
hearts and pull us towards the Yes end of the spectrum in just a
Fellow NUHS AOM students Irene Walters,
Yvonne Gonzales, and Melissa Espinoza, and our invaluable ND
student, Kaley Burns, committed to helping a very poor and very
remote community on the island of Ometepe during our trimester
break. What we discovered there was how deserving and appreciative
the people of Los Angeles, Moyo, Altagracia, and many other nearby
towns are of the natural medicine clinic that serves their
Some days went by quickly, as dozens of people were called up
from their backyard waiting room chairs, where they had sat
patiently for several hours, only to be rewarded with a tincture, a
needling session, and a massage as applicable for each condition.
Other days seemed to drag on forever as we sat waiting between
patients in the stifling 99 degree heat in a 3-room clinic. Either
way, we made it back to our homestay families each evening for a
hot meal and a cold shower.
Nicaragua leaves me with so many take-aways that each year I've
been hard pressed to name the most important thing I learn on this
trip. The value of integrative medicine? The versatility of
botanicals? The severe need and appreciation of the people on
Ometepe? The feeling of being so sure that I am on the right path?
Um, all of the above!
The nightly discussions at the Rancho after long workdays, hot
dinners, and cold showers provided the missing information that
I've been seeking for years. Why are these people unable to receive
adequate care in their own country on their own accord? Why do
Americans feel a need to travel to Central America and assist?
Learning about the history of Nicaragua and its relations with the
U.S. is not just enlightening for the volunteers, but it also helps
us understand the role that America and other first-world nations
have played in pushing Nicaragua to its current state of affairs
today. Why do we go there to help? Well, because we were part of
the problem in the first place.
Nights in Nicaragua were dark for a reason. Yes, as everyone
pointed out on Facebook, we had access to the Internet...for about
20 minutes per day, at one location, if it even worked at all. The
nightly Internet access was a small part of our experience, dwarfed
by the gravity of our work during the day. Nightly classes and
discussions in the Rancho--our open-air meeting place in
town--allowed each weary volunteer to start processing what we did
that day in a meaningful way. With each huge, scary gust of
end-of-the-dry-season wind, we grabbed at our flying papers and
felt the country penetrate further and further into our hearts and
Will I go back to the NDI clinic on Ometepe island? Yep. I want
to see how many of those malnourished children used the
toothbrushes that I handed them. I want to see how many of the
little kids with a parasite felt better and started eating again. I
want to see the woman whose blood sugar was over 400 report that
the Berberine was helping manage her diabetes better than the
Metformin was(n't). I was relieved that we didn't see any
brink-of-death premature babies this year, but there were still
many, many people who needed our help. I'll be back. And I hope
that next year YOU come with me!
Ok, I'll do one--one of those kinds of posts. I usually
think it's more interesting and relevant to share information about
some topic of concern or awe to those of us in alternative
medicine, but this time I'm just going to do what the original
intention of this AOM blog probably was. I'm going to share what
it's like to be an acupuncture student fighting her way towards the
end of the trimester.
Now, I'm not fighting because I'm bored, confused, or frustrated
with my classes. On the contrary, I enjoy the nights I get to drive
in a car by myself and sit quietly for 4-5 hours learning about
something I love. It's the most relaxing part of the day. Hey, I
have active young children, a messy husband, and a sometimes
too-demanding teaching schedule to juggle all day. Give me a
graduate night class any day of the week!
No, I'm not fighting in a bad way. I'm excited to reach the end
of this trimester because the day after it ends, I'm getting on the
airplane for Nicaragua. Two weeks in Central America is just what
the doctor ordered for this stressed out, over-committed student.
I'd love to say I'm a good flier, but that wouldn't be true. With
that missing Malaysian plane, I'm going to be grinding ear seeds
into my PC6 points until they're bleeding. Awesomely inopportune
time for that mysterious tragedy. Not to be insensitive, but I
barely make it through my flights as it is. Rescue remedy? Yep,
I'll be using that heavily.
The past several months have been leading up to this medical
mission trip, and soon I know it will be here, then
already--sadly--behind me. Since last year's trip, I haven't been
able to get that clinic off my mind--not that I want to! NDI's
integrative healthcare clinic serves so many appreciative and needy
people, and it's the only medical setting I've ever experienced
where providers of several medical fields all circle around and get
to take a crack at each patient who walks in the door. I know that
when I start my first shift, a middle-aged Nicaraguan farmer will
come into the clinic with the chief complaint of back pain. If I
used a machete all day, I'd develop back pain, too. Instead of that
patient being confined to the limits of one provider's medicine,
this patient will reap the benefits of the naturopath, the
chiropractor, the acupuncturist, the psychologist, and the massage
therapist on staff at the same time. He might get an adjustment,
soft tissue work, some needles, and even a tincture for the road. I
can't get that sweet deal anywhere in the United States, that's for
sure. Did I mention it's free? Sign...me...up.
This is the future of medicine, people.This is it. Integrative
medicine is the way. True, I have to get on an airplane to immerse
myself in it at this point, but I promise you one thing--I'll bring
Why would I need or want to do this? Why haven't I
purchased a commercial deodorant in about two years? Why haven't I
let my husband, either? The bottom line is that I just don't feel
comfortable slathering on a toxic armpit cocktail, when I know that
what I put on my skin has a good chance of being absorbed into my
bloodstream. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: If you
wouldn't eat it, don't put it on your skin, either.
I also don't like the idea of blocking off the body's drainage
system, so I had already stopped using anti-perspirants years
before finally ditching the deodorant, too. (Not sure what you're
using? Check the front label. "Deodorant?" Just covering the smell.
"Anti-perspirant?" Also preventing your body from releasing the
sweat.) My armpits are made for excretion, and that's just what
they'll do. One of these days, I'll probably sweat all over
Really, though, it's not nice to sweat all over people, and it's
particularly rude to have the sweat smell like the noxious fumes
that we all know it can. Yet, I feel that primal urge to allow my
lymphatic system to do its job and clean out some bodily sludge.
Yes, I do think that using a commercially-produced anti-perspirant
and deodorant contributes to the development of breast cancer and
other ailments. But I guess I have to sit around and wait for a
study to prove that sealing in your body's toxins and then layering
more on top of that is bad for your health. Seriously, doesn't
anybody else wonder why Dove is the breast cancer researcher out
Or, I could make the choice that I know is healthier for my body
(and my husband's body, too). Thus, one rainy afternoon two years
ago, I jumped on Amazon and ordered myself some arrowroot powder
(after not being able to find it in local stores). The rest is
history. Instead of simply leaving you with the basic recipe I've
been using and loving, I'll take you on a pictorial journey
afterward. Note that if you do try this at home, the common
expectation is that there is approximately a 1-2 week "learning
curve" for your body to really have the opportunity to excrete
build-ups that you've been holding hostage for most of your adult
life with your commercial anti-perspirants. Translation = you might
smell worse during this time. This, too, shall pass, and at the end
you'll likely find that you don't smell as bad as you used to.
Here are your simple ingredients:
Mix 1/2 cup coconut oil with 1/4 cup arrowroot powder and 1/4
cup baking soda. Add essential oils such as orange, lemongrass, or
tea tree, and scoop into an old, cleaned out deodorant container to
harden for a few hours. (Don't worry about those bottles of wine in
the background. Those are for later, when you can celebrate your
accomplishment if all goes well.) Simple, customizable, delightful.
Remember, it's more meant to be a deodorant than an
anti-perspirant, but my husband finds it does both well. I guess
I'm just a sweatier fella. But at least I'm not usually a smellier
That's the normal way. This week, I tried to plan for our
upcoming medical mission trip to Nicaragua, where it is oh-so-hot
every day, by customizing the usual recipe to prevent it from
melting. Yes, coconut oil has a melting point in the 70s, so it
would be like trying to use a puddle of deodorant instead of a
stick if I took along the usual stuff. So, after googling for a
while, I found a suggestion to melt and add beeswax into the usual
recipe to raise the melting point (beeswax has a really high
melting point, like 170 -- not even Nicaragua can match that). It
The resulting deodorant was very brown, as a result of using
dark brown beeswax the first time. OK, I can live with that. Here's
the bowl of leftover brown deodorant that I will scrape with a
spoon and use until it's gone before wasting an ounce. Yes, this is
the state of affairs of toiletries in my home.
The photo at the beginning of my post is what it looks like in
stick form, which is much more socially acceptable, I know. It's
almost normal looking...just brown, and bumpy, unlike the usual
smooth off-white result for temperate at-home usage. Ah, Nicaragua,
the things I do for you.
• Jabbing Nerves with Needles
• Mission in Nicaragua
To read older blog posts, scroll to the bottom and click the "Older Posts" button.