Acupuncture in Korea

I hurt my neck the other day doing yoga when I fell over during a headstand. Coincidentally, I had been looking for an excuse to visit the acupuncturist, and here Fate was kind enough to present me with one.

Some of my friends have had acupuncture done before, so I knew basically what to expect; I just wanted to know if it really worked, and how it felt. I also love Dr. Kim, the traditional Korean doctor down the street from my house. Lisa and I went to dinner with him and his wife earlier this week. They are extremely generous, loving people - their family spent four years in Uzbekistan while Dr. Kim gave free treatment to local villagers, and he has also spent time in Sri Lanka doing the same. He has a very calming demeanor, and I can't help but smile when I'm around him. He speaks English rather well, but he speaks it in such a way that he seems to be mulling over each individual word for maximum meaning and impact before speaking it, so he has a very slow, melodic manner of communicating that is entrancing and endearing.

Anyway, I visited his office at 9am Friday before school. My neck had been killing me all through the night; I slept terribly, and could barely lift my head from the pillow in the morning. I wasn't sure I'd be able to go to school that day. I only had two classes scheduled, so I wouldn't have felt terrible about it, but I wanted to see how I felt after Dr. Kim's treatment.

His office is very pleasant, with lots of natural light and a heavy (but not overpowering) smell of herbs. I waited for about 5 minutes and was called back to see him. I told him my story and that my neck was extremely sore. He held my wrist and felt my pulse for about a minute (though he didn't time it), after which he declared that my condition wasn't serious. He recommended that I do several acupuncture sessions, which I agreed to.

His desk is within the same room as the patients' quarters; small, well-apportioned cubicles with modest beds and a heat lamp. I took off my shirt and socks as instructed, and sat in a legless chair on the bed with my knees propped up over a pillow. He came in and, using a small metal tube that seemed to work much like a ball-point pen, inserted several small metal needles in my skin - three near my shoulder blades, one in the outside of my left food, and one in the outer flesh of my left hand, which I had balled into a fist. He left me in that position for about ten minutes, with a heat lamp directed toward my back.

After he removed the needles, I lay down on my stomach and he placed two large heating pads over my shoulders and neck, for another ten minutes.

The third treatment was fire cupping, in which Dr. Kim sprayed alcohol into four clay cups, lit them on fire, and placed them down onto my back. The fire went out immediately and created a suction effect, drawing skin into the cup and blood into the skin. Again he directed the heat lamp to my back and I lay there for another ten minutes. He applied a large herb patch over one of the cup marks, and gave me some herbal medicines to take three times a day. The cost? 6,400 won (6 USD). I made an appointment to come back and see him the following day.

bruise marks from cupping

Although my neck didn't feel 100% better, the pain had decreased significantly. Where before my neck was suffering from sharp, shooting pains whenever I moved my head, now the pain had dulled substantially and I had regained some of the range of motion in my neck. I felt elated, as if I had been dosed with anti-anxiety medication, and practically skipped my way to work.

Throughout the entire day, including the night, the pain in my neck never increased. I had expected the effects of the treatment to wear off, particularly overnight. But I slept soundly and when I woke up this morning for my second treatment, my neck felt quite spry.

I think I may have to start listing Dr. Kim as my "family doctor" from now on.

Acupuncture is extremely common in Korea - most of my co-teachers regularly visit their local traditional Korean doctor when they have aches, pains, or illness. It's almost always their first line of treatment.

For more on health care in Korea, see below:

Five Minutes in a Korean Hospital

A Penny for your...Eye Infection?

Swine Flu update

Korea has been taking the threat of swine flu very seriously, especially now that it's showing up in schools. In I-dong High School, at least six first-grade students have left school, allegedly suffering from the virus, though no one can tell me if any of the cases have been confirmed, and students and teachers have expressed an increasing unease. Some of the teachers have complained to me about the principal's lack of urgency on the issue, saying that it seems he is waiting for something serious to happen before he makes any changes.

On Monday this week he announced that night study would be canceled (classes finish around 5pm every day; until 10pm the students are expected to stay at school for one long supervised study period) and students would not change classrooms. During a regular school day, student classes are split into high level and low level students - high level students from different classes are grouped together, and low level share a classroom as well. This week the high and low level students will be in the same classroom, in order to keep them from moving around too much and spreading their germs all over the school.

The administration has also installed hand sanitizing machines in the cafeteria and distributed antibacterial lotion to every teacher's office and classroom. The teachers are checking students' temperature daily with electronic ear thermometers. The regular use of masks in the school has jumped significantly.

One co-teacher informed me this morning that the government is considering shutting down schools nationwide in order to prevent further spread of the disease.

A penny for your...eye infection?

Apparently in Korean schools, few things cause more concern than contagious eye infections. A cold or respiratory infection will usually just prompt the wearing of a protective mask to avoid spreading the disease to others. But a child with an eye infection won't be allowed to come to school. Koreans are so touchy-feely that it would quickly spread throughout the entire student population. Because kids KNOW that it will get them out of school, they will often go out of their way to consciously contract an eye infection. If a boy with an incipient infection comes to school, other kids will wipe his eye and then their own, willing to trade their comfort for a few days of guaranteed vacation. 

So when I called my co-teacher Wednesday morning to tell her that my eyes were red, blurry, and crusty, she told me not to come into school. I went to see an eye doctor instead. 

None of the secretaries at the doctor's office spoke more than a few words of English - luckily, their limited vocab included the words "discharge" and "infection" and ten minutes and 4,000 won ($4) later I was walking out the door with a diagnosis (allergic conjunctivitis) and a prescription. The doctor was very nice and professional, and he spoke a surprising amount of English. Within 2 or 3 days, he said, it should clear up.

I stopped by the pharmacy on the ground floor of the building to pick up my prescription - 2 bottles of eye drops, another 4,000 won (that's 8k total, or about $6 for a doctor's visit and prescription).

Unfortunately, my particular brand of eye infection was not contagious (whoever heard of non-contagious conjunctivitis?), and I returned to school the next day. I say "unfortunately" not because I necessarily wanted to skip school, but because it could have made me some money. I've been told that some enterprising, eye-infected kids, realizing the street value of their illness, will use their "gift" for profit. They charge other students 500 won for the privilege of touching their eyes.

Masks!

I always assumed that Koreans wore masks for one of two reasons: to block air pollution or to prevent the spread (from or to themselves) of disease. Masks come in different materials, thicknesses, and sizes, but I just thought the choice was dependent on personal preference and fit. Ajummas (old ladies), for example, love giant masks, in combination with huge visors, which cover their entire faces, because they're crazy, and they do what they want.

According to my co-teacher, who wears masks all the time, different masks serve different purposes.

She has one that she says "keeps her wet." (I know, I chuckled too.) She wears it to moisten her throat at night or when it's sore. It's made of thick cotton.

She has another, more industrial-looking mask, to protect from dust and some air pollution. It can be molded to her face to prevent air gaps. It also matches yellow bracelets.

Regretfully, she forgot her large, two-piece mask today. We have a teachers' field trip planned, to visit a nearby mountain for an afternoon hike. She would have worn it, had she remembered to bring it. It's a UV mask, to protect from sunburn.

It is also great at elephant costume parties.

Korean citizen tested for swine flu

The first suspected case of swine flu has been reported in South Korea, after a Korean citizen returned from a trip to Mexico and was apparently suffering from flu-like symptoms. They seem to be taking the threat pretty seriously, as they have begun "to conduct inspections of the belongings of tourists who have traveled back from the US and Mexico." Exactly what they are looking for would be news to me. Used tissues? Flu-ridden mini pigs? (Yeah, I'm plugging those little guys every chance I get.) Or is this just a convenient cover to justify a search for drug paraphernalia? They are apparently now using thermal cameras to monitor the body temperature of travelers arriving from suspect destinations as a first indication of possible swine flu infection.

(source: LA Times)

Korea takes precautions on swine flu

Although there have been no cases of swine flu in Korea or even Asia for that matter, after the WHO declared the outbreak in Mexico and the US a public health emergency of "pandemic potential," they're not taking any chances. As of Saturday, Korea's CDC issued emergency travel alerts, requiring all returning passengers from the US cities of LA, Dallas, and Atlanta to be checked for flu symptoms. I wonder how they propose to do this, and what will happen if the test of some travelers turns out to be positive. Quarantine? Will they be checking all visitors from those airports or only returning Koreans? 

In addition to the current death toll, I predict that this whole pandemic scare is likely to have devastating corollary consequences on perhaps the most adorable industry ever: miniature pet pigs.