I got acupuncture for the first time today. I had considered getting it before, but my pain always seemed to subside just as I was on the verge of making an appointment, so I never went. However, I seriously tweaked my upper back and neck last Tuesday--either from lifting weights or from hauling around the vacuum cleaner, I think--and the pain got better over the weekend, but came back in a more intense form yesterday. This morning, I couldn't turn my head in either direction without wincing. I hooked myself up to Jeff's muscle stimulation machine for a while, took a Soma and Darvocet cocktail, and decided it was time to let a stranger stick a bunch of needles into me.

I filled out a couple of forms and told the acupuncturist why I was there. She peered at my tongue and my eyes for a while, and then led me into a treatment room. I put on one of those gowns that opens in the back and lay face-down on a massage table. The acupuncturist then stuck a few needles in my legs--one in each calf and a couple near each ankle--and several more on both sides of my back. She finished up by placing two needles in the back of my neck and two more in the back of my head. The needles all had a type of coil at the top, and when they were in place, the therapist scratched each coil to make it vibrate slightly.

Then, my acupuncturist asked me if I believed in Jesus. I was not prepared to be asked this question while lying face-down on a table with a couple dozen needles sticking out of my body.

"Uh--what?" I stuttered.

"Do you believe in Jesus?" she repeated.

I thought about hedging, since nearly every time someone asks you that question, they feel the correct answer is "yes," and my position here was somewhat compromised. I decided hedging would do me no good.

"No," I told her, trying to work into my tone the implication that I was really not up for any advice on the status of my immortal soul.

"Do you mind if I pray for you?" she asked.

No, I didn't mind, especially since she prayed in Korean. She might have been praying that I would be converted right there on the table, but seeing as how I don't speak any Korean, I was able to give her the benefit of the doubt. I decided to assume she was trying to get Jesus to give me some sort of celestial massage. After all, if I did believe that Jesus was my savior, I would believe that he cared about me and my back muscles.

"I can't heal you," the acupuncturist informed me when she had finished her prayer. "Only Jesus can do that. That's why I prayed for you."

"Well, I wish you had told me that when I walked in here," I responded. "If you had, I would have just gone straight to Jesus. You know, eliminate the middleman. What does Jesus charge for an acupuncture session?"

Okay, I didn't actually say that, though it did occur to me. The only sound I made was a noncommital grunt. The therapist left the room and said she'd be back in 20 minutes. I spent the 20 minutes paying attention to the tingly sensation I was feeling in my shoulder and trying to ignore the music, which was a crushingly mediocre collection of songs about God's love. Have you seen the South Park in which the kids join that singing group dedicated to spreading the word about the rainforest? "Doop-doop-de-doo, zatta-toot-WOW!" That's what these songs were like. I contemplated requesting some Skynyrd, because I thought it would be funny for a half-naked woman with a bunch of needles in her back to shout "Freebird!" over and over, but I knew I'd be lucky to get the Carmina Burana.

I was not lucky. However, I only had to endure four or five songs before it was time for the needles to come out. The therapist finished up my session by massaging my back and neck, and I was soon dressed and out of there.

The verdict...

PAIN OF TREATMENT: Negligible. Most of the needles didn't hurt at all. A few--the ones near an old ankle injury and the ones in the middle of my worst muscle knots--hurt slightly. And I really do mean "slightly."

RELIEF FROM TREATMENT: Significant. I could actually turn my head and look at where I was going as I backed out of my parking spot.

JESUS LEVEL: Highly elevated. This would not keep me from returning--in fact, I made a follow-up appointment for this Friday--but next time, I'm bringing the iPod.