Needles

Yesterday I had an acupuncture session; my first ever. Getting up after the treatment I was dizzy and hot, there was no follow up with the Dr. Her assistant came in and was deft and quick in her removal of the needles. Never asked me how I felt, and I was never led to expect that reaction. It was a relief to get outside in the cool air, and then I sat for a bit in the car until I felt steady enough to drive. Once home I became a couch potato, making a dent in the list of recorded programs on the TV. I can only hope that this means my body is reacting to the treatment and they will be successful. As my DD pointed out, it's much like a good massage releases toxins and you have to flood them out with water afterwards, so I spent the evening hydrating and will continue to do so. Water is my friend.

This morning I am what passes for normal in my new drugged state. Woozy, uncomfortable, but in much less pain. Speaking of which, last night was the first time I climbed into bed without my little heated bag of rice to soothe my arm. I don't know if it was the treatment or because I left work early or the accumulation of drugs in my system; probably the synergy of all three. So apparently I am trading pain for feeling ... disoriented? Hard to explain, but not clear headed, not my personal brand of normal. For now I will accept this; while my arm is still achy and my fingers numb, at least my pain level is reduced to uncomfortable instead of debilitating.

I know what this feels like, it's the way I feel when I am having a vertigo attack, and hold myself still because I know when I move the world will spin. Except instead of spinning I just stay in this fuzzy anticipatory state of waiting to tilt. But I know this will fade as I remain upright, and that I will be fine to drive after breakfast.

All I want to do is curl up in a warm blanket and disappear. Instead I have water heating for tea, secure in the knowledge that I will gradually come to my senses and be able to greet the day properly; with gratitude instead of griping. As they say, every day I have my chance to start over. I just wish, for the moment, it didn't come with brain clouds.