Island writer becomes eighth wonder of the world:
A seven- foot pincushion
by Peter B. Brace + Independent Writer
"Wait a minute. What are you doing with those needles?" "You're putting them where?"

"...ouch!"

From pain comes pleasure. No pain, no gain. You have to have the sour and the sweet, yin and yang. I get it. I get that balance in life for which there are an infinite number of trite expressions.

But did any of them matter at all to me while I was face down on a heated massage table in a tiny room, with incense burning and ethereal music playing as a miniature Japanese woman named Jenny made me into her voodoo doll for Manute Bol?

Actually, the yin and yang bit I embrace through my yoga practice. Yoga espouses the sun and moon, positive and negative, hot and cool mantra of existence and it is a regular part of my life and will be until I can no longer get out of bed...hey, wait a minute, that sounds pretty good.

Anyway, I'm speaking of acupuncture, as described in the brochure: "...the gentle insertion of thin, disposable, sterile needles at strategic points along the surface of the body." Yes, I let this woman, Jenny Eskrett, an acupuncture practitioner with a master's degree in Traditional Chinese Medicine from the Pacific College of Oriental Medicine of New York City, stick her needles in me.

ROB BENCHLEY/The Independent Jenny Eskrett applies an acupuncture needle to Peter B. Brace's scalp as part of the writer's first experience.

Born with eczema all over her body, Jenny found that Western medicine could not subdue the scaly, itchy, and excruciatingly painful and sometimes bloody lesions the disease caused. Instead, she sought out a combination of Western and Eastern therapies in her family's home country of Japan. That experience, which beat her eczema into submission, exposed Jenny to Chinese medicine and led her to becoming an acupuncturist.

As for me, I have hip issues; and lately, from sitting in a cheap, undersized Staples office chair, some occasional lower back stuff going on. I was curious about acupuncture in the way that yoga intrigued me; I hoped it would be an alternative to traditional health care and a long-term preventive measure.

The treatment began with a barrage of questions about my body that lasted almost 20 minutes. Jenny wanted to know about everything from my sleep patterns, to my diet, to the medications I was on and the exercise regime I followed. She asked how I sat at my desk, how I was feeling that day, why I wanted to try acupuncture and what I hoped to get out of it.

A laborious inquiry to say the least, but the more I could tell her about myself inside and out, the more efficiently Jenny could jab me with sharp, pointy objects. Next, she told me to remove my shoes and socks, lie on my stomach on the table and place my face in a padded face cradle while she worked her magic.

She put needles into the top of my head, the meat of my hands just above my wrist on the pinky side, on my ankles, shoulders and back. Having harbored a mild anxiety about being stuck with sharp things, I have to say I barely felt so much as a pinch of pain when she put them in.

Once I was properly punctured, she lit crushed mugwort - an herb known to sooth pain, promote circulation and strengthen bones and tendons - burning it close to my skin where the needles were and blowing its heat and smoke over my body.

The whole process of acupuncture works on the belief of Chinese medicine that a healthy body is aligned by meridian lines running head to toe, down all extremities and intersecting with each other along the way, carrying universal energy throughout the body called chi. The Chinese believe the interruption of these energy channels causes a whole menu of bodily maladies, including digestive, respiratory, neurological, muscular, urinary, menstrual and reproductive disorders.

Expert placement of the needles and occasional manipulation of them (two millimeters in the skin for hands, feet, scalp and face, to up two inches for hips and butts) realigns the meridian lines and reestablishes the flow of chi through the body, and, Jenny told me, could also take the pain out of my back and my hips.

Okay, well, not right away. I just about fell asleep from total relaxation during my treatment. And when I got back to the office, I was so relaxed and mellow I couldn't think, I couldn't type. About all I could imagine doing for the rest of the day was floating out the door and out over the moors in a fog of total ecstasy. It felt that good.

Jenny called the next day to see how I was feeling, and if my hips and back felt better. I can't say that I was cured, but I generally felt great all over. Naturally, she explained, the treatment is a therapy whose results intensify over the course of regular treatments. Though the effects vary from pincushion to pincushion, most of her clients experience significant improvements after five or six treatments, which for some, can be all they need, while others go with regular treatment to keep their meridian lines open.

Although Blue Cross Blue Shield apparently has yet to grasp the wisdom of including acupuncture as one of its covered treatments under my policy, I will continue on at least until my sixth stabbing to see what it can do for me. If nothing else, it's a great way to get out of work and relax.

Thanks, Jenny. I