Community Health Initiative Bare-Bones Acupuncture, Big-Time Recoveries

Townsend Letter for Doctors and Patients, July, 2001 by Elise Hancock

After every ear glints with a tracery of steel, the lights go down and the box plays a soothing tape. Most patients lie back and rest, to let their treatment sink in for the next half hour. While the effects vary from person to person, most agree it helps. One patient said, "They do certain points and everything is different. My body was messed up, my spirit was messed up. I feel lighter." After a while the lights come up and the students circulate, asking about physical symptoms. "How're you sleeping?... mm-hmm... How're your bowels?... Any night sweats?... Is there anything you'd like to talk about?" Often there is: One man confided he was having pains in his chest, left shoulder, and arm. (Yes, we checked it out.) And many of the clients must struggle to give up street ways. "All my life I've been punching people out," one man said. "Now when somebody makes me mad...I can't do that." He is learning to walk away.

A young mother can now see her children, to both her joy and sorrow. "I'm going to see them tonight!" she said beaming, then added, "This is not something I can rush. The things I did to them, they'll need counseling. I want to give them their mother back, but I don't want to just snatch them from their grandmother...It'll take time." She has hope, though. "My daughter told me she wants things to be the way they used to be, with flowers on the table, coming home from school to me in the kitchen." She says it shyly, looking down at her twisting hands. Her daughter's words are so precious I think she feels they might evanesce if she spoke them loudly.

And here's my favorite story: One man told me he was feeling just great. That morning, he had taken his coffee out on the back porch and was thinking about his parents -- how much he wished they were alive to see him clean, how much they had loved him, how badly he had repaid their love. "I kind of talked it over with God," he said quietly, then jerked upright, eyes gleaming. "And suddenly the birds just began to twitter twitter twitter!" he said, hands raised, each finger wiggling like a darting bird. "And that was God's answer. It's all right. God heard me."

Once treatment is over, there's a half-hour meeting, mostly sharing troubles or inspiration. One day the group sang, gospel songs with a particular poignancy for the struggle with addiction -- "I'm climbing up the rough side of the mountain." "Nobody said the path would be easy." And that sums up the guts of the Penn North program. These treatment sessions take place morning and evening, Monday through Friday, week in week out, and have since April 1995.

Now add to the mix Narcotics Anonymous, which began at Penn North two years ago. They're up to four meetings a week, serving about 50 people each meeting, and asking for a fifth time slot.

Add classes in t'ai chi, a Chinese martial art cum dance form cum self-healing therapeutic movement. These are taught in local parks by Al-Duha (the Center's other full-time staffer), not only for clients of Penn North but for anyone who cares to come. Al-Duha particularly liked it the other day when four little boys actually threw down their plastic guns to do t'ai chi. "It was a perfect symbol," he chuckles.