The Relief of Acupuncture & Community

Those of us who struggle daily to actually feel good, go through hell just to find affordable places that will alleviate pain. I'm convinced that bringing together the knowledge of Western medicine and alternative therapies is the best way to approach a chronic illness. Unfortunately, a lot of insurance companies don't recognize therapies like acupuncture as legitimate. My insurance allows me 12 visits per year. But my feet, which suffer from dystonia, need weekly attention.

Years ago, in Lyons, I found a wonderful acupuncturist, Carol Conigliaro. I went to her every week for awhile. Carol is also schooled in Chinese herbal medicines and for years I swallowed down teas that I can only describe as tasting like mud. Eventually, I just couldn't afford her services. This was a terrible severing because she, like most holistic practitioners, really listened to me talk about everything that was going on in my life. She was interested in me as a whole person; she would even read my poetry. But of course she had to make a living too. Now, finally, there is a movement which seems to be sweeping across the country and it has actually come to the little town of Lyons. Through the efforts of Carol and her business partner, Julie Smith, a warm, open space for community acupuncture has evolved. They offer a sliding scale fee. You pay what you can.

I'm a pretty private person when it comes to bodywork. I like my private sessions and the ensuing quiet as you are being manipulated by steady, reassuring hands. I liked Carol's private home studio. I would lie on my back while the needles worked their magic and watch her mobile of cranes that hung from the ceiling above me as they swayed in imperceptible wind. I used to drift into sleep thinking it was God's breath moving those cranes. I can go back to that place any time.

But the community center has a wonderful ambience too. The space is large and delicate Japanese screens are erected all around the room, creating little, private havens. The floors are warm oak wood and you must remove your shoes when you come in. Carol greets you quietly because she is working on several people at once. At first, I thought this way of working with patients would be too harried and impossible. But Carol is in her element and she floats. I lie down and Carol looks over my chart and talks to me about my health, asks about my family, work, etc., and periodically asks me to take a breath in, then out, as the needles are inserted painfully into my ears. Acupuncture is not painful for a normal, healthy person. Most needles work painlessly along specific meridian points, but with my dystonia, they must be inserted in my ears. Once the pain is gone, I am overcome with the most peaceful sleepiness. Carol moves on to another patient and I hear her voice and the patient's voice above soft music. The music is percussion instruments: bells and Japanese taiko drums and Tibetian singing bowls.


The background talking doesn't bother me the way I thought it would. I drift in and out of a sleep so restful it feels like I'm in some alternate universe. Acupuncture always does that to me. The voices intertwine and overlap, people come and go. When Carol finally removes the needles after a much needed acupressure spinal massage, she compares the background talking to when you're lying on the beach and drifting off to sleep: there is the sound of waves and seagulls and you can hear people all around you laughing, talking, even high-pitched sounds of children screaming with delight, but it all just washes through you and is actually comforting. This is exactly the way I felt. 


This brings me full circle to the issue of private versus community services. Yes, private services have their benefits, but a community service's atmosphere under expert control can be just as lovely and even more touching. When I first arrived and Carol was checking my pulses, there was a woman a few screens away from mine. I could hear her crying softly. She wasn't sad; she wasn't in pain. She was just releasing something. It must have been happiness because I heard her make another appointment for the following week. The word community can mean many things. In this case, it reminds me of the word "grace." There was grace today all through that acupuncture session. It was gentle and restoring and it was holding me up. This is what community is for ultimately: it is there to hold you up when you most need to be held.


To find out more about Carol Conigliaro's services, visit Green Heart Institute.