Thursday, August 23, 2007

My Favorite Beatle

My favorite Beatle has always been George Harrison. I never liked how John and Paul muscled him out of the publishing side of things.

So I spent a moment or two trying to think of the appropriate George Harrison song to illustrate my latest medical adventure. I've always been a sucker for While My Guitar Gently Weeps. Although maybe something from The Concert for Bangla-Desh might be more appropriate. Maybe a duet with Ravi Shankar. Instead, I came up with something by The Searchers:
I saw her today, I saw her face
It was the face I love, and I knew
I had to run away
And get down on my knees and pray, that they go away
And still it begins, needles and pins
Because of all my pride, the tears I gotta hide
Oh I thought I was smart, I stole her heart
I didn't think I'd do, but now I see
She's worse to him than me, let her go ahead
Take his love instead, and one day she will see
Just how to say please, and get down on her knees
Oh that's how it begins, she'll feel those needle and pins
Hurtin' her, hurtin' her
Why can't I stop, and tell myself I'm wrong, I'm wrong, so wrong
Why can't I stand up, and tell myself I'm strong
Because, saw her today, I saw her face
It was the face I love, and I knew
I had to run away
And get down on my knees and pray, that they go away
And still it begins, needles and pins
Because of all my pride, the tears I gotta hide
Needles and pins, needles and pins, needles and pins
All of this comes by way of announcing that yesterday, between the hours of eleven and twelve ayem, I lay, face down on one of those weird massage tables where you put your face into kind of a padded donut, and allowed a woman I've never met to stick me with, by my count, thirty tiny needles.

When she was done with that, and the subsequent fire cupping (She puts a flaming cotton ball inside a small glass globe, which is then pressed against the skin of my shoulder. The loss of oxygen causes the skin to be sucked into the globe, thus providing therapeutic effect of an Eastern nature), I swear to God I was ready to do fifty push-ups.

And I would have, too, except that I can no more do fifty push-ups than fly to the moon.

But that doesn't minimize the amazing effects of all those needles. I'm a new man.

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