One of the benefits of reaching "Level 50" is I now get a lot of complaints from joints that previously gave me no issues. In an effort to combat this, I looked into acupuncture. While I know nothing about unblocking chakras and the flow of Chi, I do know the National Institutes of Health did studies and found the practice of acupuncture had some merit. So off I went to a highly recommended center of Eastern medicine. As I entered the practice, I saw nothing but Asians among the staff, as I expected. However, the doctor who walked into my treatment room was a tall, slender bespectacled white dude.
He looked up from reading my chart listing my areas of complaint and in an unidentified accent asked, "Ah, you are Meester Gri-GOR-i?" For the unaware, "Gregory Wayne" is my full first name.
"Yup. That's me."
"Grigori...Capuyan?" Accent notwithstanding, I was amazed he pronounced my last name perfectly.
"Uh...yeah. You nailed it, Doc." He lowered his glasses and peered intently at me.
"Hmm...are you...Russian?" That caught me off guard. I've been mistaken for Hawaiian, Maori, Samoan, and even Inuit. With shades on, I apparently also pass for Hispanic. Never have I been taken for a Russian, and I told him as much. He continued in a now identified Russian accent.
"Ah. You have the look of certain people where I come from in Russia. There, Capunia (Ca-POO-nee-a) is a very common surname." Continuing with the exam, he then asked me to stick out my tongue. I obliged. "Hmm. I see issues with bile and liver. It's like anger. Do you get angry often at work?" Damn skippy, I do.
"Umm...yeah, Doc. It's been known to happen."
"Ah. This is not good. Laughter is much better. Tell me, is it your coworkers that make you angry?" Damn skippy, they do.
"Yeah...sometimes they can get on my last nerve."
"Ah. That's not good. You must kill them."
I froze.
The f*ck did I just hear?
I just stared at him as he peered back at me over his glasses. Slowly, the corner of his mouth twitched in the faintest of smiles. Out of relief, I busted out laughing. His smile broadened. "Yes! Just like that! Very good, Meester Grigori! Much better!"
He then spent the next fifteen minutes inserting a crap ton of needles into my major joints as I lay on the treatment table. As he did so, he mentioned his time in the Russian army as a much younger man. Knowing the penchant for armed forces types to get tattoos, I remarked, "So you became a doctor of acupuncture instead of a tattoo artist?" He stopped and looked at me quizzically. I continued, "Well, they both know their way around needles." He straightened up and smiled.
"Ah. That's very good, Meester Grigori!"
After the last needle was placed, he said, "I will now leave you for 30 minutes. The treatment will take its course." With that, he nodded, turned the lights down, and walked out of the room. As he closed the door behind him, out of curiosity, I looked down at my body to check out all the needles.
I didn't expect the utter absurdity of the sight. Nearly a dozen needles that I could see, not counting the ones on the top of my scalp, prickled from my wrists, knees, and ankles. It looked like I'd gotten the worse part of a run-in with a metal thrashing porcupine. I busted out laughing again.
Outside in the hallway, Doc responded, his voice trailing as he walked away, "Yes! Just like that! Very good, Meester Grigori!"
"The Doctor" - The Doobie Brothers
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