If you have a headache, you should see the doctor . . .

Last week, my middle school students were practicing using "If . . . , then . . ." sentences as well as "should," so the title to this blog is thus inspired.

I have migraines constantly, at least 2 per week. It is something I have dealt with for almost 4 years despite specialists and various medications. Luckily, my migraines are more of a problem due to their frequency rather than their intensity. Nevertheless, I feel I am constantly fighting a losing a battle with my migraines. I brought a book about women and migraines to Loudi during Tomb Sweeping Festival. My Chinese friends June and Jasmine saw me reading this book and asked me questions. They suggested I see the doctor. I explained, "I have seen many doctors, many times." To which they responded, "No, you should see a Chinese doctor." Jasmine explained that one of her English teachers is really committed to promoting good health and knows a lot about hospitals and Chinese medicine. This teacher would happily help me find a good Chinese doctor. I wasn't entirely opposed to the idea. In fact, the book I was reading did mention there could be some benefit from acupuncture, and at this point I was willing to try anything. (Well, almost anything).

About one month passed and I didn't give much thought to visiting a Chinese doctor for my migraines. Then last Sunday, April 26th, we went shopping with June, Jasmine, and Janet. We went to a clothing exhibition being held nearby (Wow, they had some really scary clothing for sale!), went out to lunch, and then ran some other errands. At 3:20, while we were running errands, Jasmine received a phone call. Upon hanging up the phone she told me that her teacher (the one who was dedicated to promoting good health) had just called and would be finished teaching at 3:30. Afterward, she would would promptly meet me at the doctors' clinic to discuss my headaches. I didn't exactly have much time to weigh my options and I knew if I didn't go then, there would be no telling when I would have another chance. So we hopped in a taxi (an expensive luxury for these girls, yet they always insist on paying and usually win after an intense battle on who will pay - even after we give them money they find ways to sneak it back into our bags when we're not looking) and headed to the clinic. The clinic we would be visiting is one I had walked by many times before and could honestly say never intended to step foot in. It was a rather small clinic stuck between a milk tea shop and a stationary store near the premier high school in our city. We met the professor outside the door. She had long black hair with a few stray strands of gray. She was beautiful and dressed like she both had money and was important. She wore a short shiny silver colored dress that buttoned up the front like a jacket and billowed above the knees and at the shoulders. This is the kind of dress that only a confident Chinese woman could wear. She introduced herself as Julia. She spoke English extremely well - she must be one of the better English speakers in the city, as Jasmine mentioned that the government often hires her as a translator whenever important foreigners come to town. Julia spoke English with such ease that she even had a tendency to use the word "like" as would an American teenager. The habit did not fit her demeanor. After introductions, Julia began to tell us her story of how she met this particular doctor. Apparently, she had had a terrible sore throat for a long time. She'd been to all the big "western medicine" hospitals around town and no one had been able to cure her sore throat. Eventually, she came to this doctor of Traditional Chinese Medicine (or TCM for short) and after three days of treatment she was healed. Apparently, this doctor had once been the director of TCM at a larger hospital in ZhuZhou and had decided to start his own clinic. It did appear to be a popular clinic, judging by the large number of patients who sat in the doorway hooked up to IV's. The pharmacy was one whole wall, floor to ceiling (albeit a short ceiling) drawers I could only assume contained various herbal medications. Old, dirty chairs lined the other wall. And one desk sat against the back wall where the doctors sat waiting to see patients. It turned out that Julia's preferred doctor was not in the clinic that day, so we were given a slip of paper with a number on it to serve as an appointment for the next morning. Before we left, another doctor on duty suggested we tell her a bit about my "condition" so she could help the doctor the next morning. Julia translated about my headaches: that they were usually on one side or the other, at least twice a week, for 4 years, my father had similar headaches, etc. There was no translation for the medical term "migraine," but apparently I'd given enough the doctor information to determine I would need my forehead burned. Yes, burned! She said they would need to burn a special piece of grass and then tap it on specific points of my forehead and head. She said the scar wouldn't last too long. In addition, I would also need to take some herbal medicine. I wasn't so sure about this treatment plan, but again, nothing else I'd tried was really working effectively so I was willing to give almost anything a shot. Further, the doctor sounded confident and well-informed. As she spoke, David and I were beginning to buy into her plan more and more . . . until her final recommendation: "But, it is very important the forehead burning be done on Dragon Boat Festival. It must be done on this day in order to work effectively." (Dragon Boat Festival is a Chinese holiday in May). This final part of the treatment seemed a little strange to us, and although we do not yet have plans for this holiday, I said, "But I will be out of town on Dragon Boat Festival, perhaps it can be done a different day." To which the doctor repeated that it is necessary to be done on this particular day. Now I really wasn't feeling very certain about this treatment plan. We left the clinic with an appointment time for 8:30 the next morning. I was hoping the "real" doctor would have a better suggestion.

Needless to say, my bravery and willingness to try "anything" left me that evening. I didn't sleep a wink the entire night, too busy thinking about the Chinese doctor burning my forehead. I couldn't believe I had put myself into this situation. I didn't have the English teacher's phone number, but if I'd had it I surely would have called her to cancel our appointment. The next morning, I showed up on time for the appointment and greeted the doctor, a man who appeared to be in his 70's but was likely younger than that. His teeth were rotting and stained from chewing beetle nuts (an addictive, nicotine enhanced nut/"adult chew toy" that tastes like menthol and is supposed to increase your energy level). He was also smoking a cigarette while assessing a patient at the table. There was no privacy to speak of in the clinic. Anyone could stand directly next to you and the doctor during your assessment. And of course, once it was my turn to sit with the doctor, everybody wanted to hear what was wrong with the foreigner and how much she would have to pay for treatment! I gathered a crowd! Julia translated for me, and much to my disappointment, this doctor agreed with the previous recommendations. I asked how long the burn scars would last, and his answer of 3 months did not please me. That is 3 months on Chinese skin (which is much better than mine). I worried that the scar might last longer on my more sensitive skin - a skin type this doctor had never worked with before. I also wasn't sure if I was willing to sacrifice my skin for something I was pretty sure wasn't going to work: it would be one thing if I went home with permanent burn marks on my forehead and no more migraines, but it's completely different if I only go home with the burn marks and continue to have migraines. I just didn't put all my faith into this treatment plan, even if he did get rid of Julia's sore throat (which I was now doubting he'd actually healed at all - had her throat actually healed on itself over time and it was only coincidence that she visited this doctor just as her body was healing on its own?) I asked if there was another option (acupuncture, for example). He begrudgingly agreed that acupuncture was an option even though he did not usually administer it and it would be less effective than the burning. With this treatment, I'd have to come to his clinic for 15 consecutive days to receive acupuncture, as well as take traditional Chinese herbal medicines. I had Julia translate some questions regarding acupuncture, most importantly "Are the needles new?" I knew enough Chinese to hear him not exactly answer the question. I had her repeat the question, this time he responded "yes." And because I was still not convinced, I had her ask, "Are they merely washed needles, or are they completely new?" And - no surprise here - his idea of "new" was my idea of "old, but washed." For a price, he agreed to buy some new needles for me. He also began to write out my prescriptions for the herbal medications, a long list of Chinese characters and a strange grouping of characters at the top of the page he decided would serve as my name. He then told Julia that I might be scared when I see the medicine because it will be "worms, and bugs and things like that." He said I shouldn't be scared, these things are routinely used in Chinese medicines. I said I wasn't scared. I lied. Finally, we began to ask about the cost of this all, and it was about 3 times more than I had anticipated. I wanted to get out of this situation but was already knee-deep. I began to feel claustrophobic with all of the sick people huddling around me, the cigarette smoke, and the sickeningly sweet and minty smell of beetle nuts in the air. I explained to Julia that I couldn't afford the treatment, but she encouraged me to ask my school for health benefits. She said my health was worth it! I agreed, and decided my health would be better off if I didn't pay 15 visits to this "less-than-sterile" clinic, so I declined, saying I would think about it. As I pushed my way out the clinic door, the doctor and various patients had a discussion about how the foreigner couldn't afford their medicine. Julia explained to them that we were volunteers and, would you believe it, the nurse chased me down outside the clinic to give me a discount (or a bargain). I'm not saying eastern medicine doesn't have a place in health care, I just don't think I need to be trying it out in a street side clinic that could possibly leave burn marks on my face forever! Ultimately, I left the day un-scarred and with another experience!