This past summer Andrew Schlabach, the president and co-founder of the Acupuncture Relief Project, invited the team members heading to Nepal this year over for a potluck. It was July, and while all of us were anxiously awaiting graduation from OCOM (Oregon College of Oriental Medicine), this exciting and, at times nebulous, idea of travelling to Nepal to practice acupuncture loomed in the background. The potluck was a meeting of sorts, to let us know what to expect as we travelled to our new home for two months. The team that went in September (camp A) would experience the post-monsoon season: hot & humid weather that would turn to a gorgeous fall. The team that left in November would get to experience the crisp air, with moderate temperatures at first, leading to a taste of the winter cold and waning sun. The team leaving in January (my team, or, camp C) would see the shortest days, and would experience warmth in the form of the noonday sun that would shine on the patio while we ate our lunch. Our wool/thermal clothing would provide us comfort throughout the remainder of the day. We would typically do our last treatments of the day by headlamp, until the lengthening sunlight hours in early spring allowed us to remain free of these contraptions. Andrew talked about the clinic(our home), what to pack, which immunizations are important, what type of food we would be eating (some rendition of daal, a thick, protein-rich, legumous porridge, eaten in countries where little meat is available, would be consumed on a daily basis), and of course how cautious to be about the water...
One of the things that struck me the most in Andrew’s description of ‘what to expect’ was the process that we would go through right as we get off the plane. It’s the most tangible thing I have in my mind thus far. Of course, the most important aspect, and goal, of this trip is to treat a population of regional patients who have very little, if any, access to healthcare. Some patients have never seen a doctor in their life. Yet, as much as they are the fabric of this adventure, I am unable to describe the people and the landscape until I get there. It’s November now, almost exactly two months away from departure. My context is still Portland, OR, and Nepal is literally a world away.
Yet, a mixture of excitement, nervousness, and pure awe fill me. I think about this trip every day. I know it will be an amazing experience, and that I will meet many wonderful people. And, I hope to be able to help as many patients that come to see me in the clinic as I can.
I know that to many, the suggestion of Nepal conjures in the mind pictures of high, majestic mountain peaks. Sherpas, trekking groups, pack animals, frigid and freezing temperatures all ring of mountaineering adventures. This is the context under which I have understood Nepal for a long period of time. It is the home of the highest mountain peak in the world, Mt Everest. In Nepal, this mountain is known as Sagarmatha, meaning goddess of the sky. Tibet, the region to the North of Nepal, under China’s rule since the 1950s, calls this mountain Chomolungma. Mother goddess of the universe, they call it1. If I am lucky enough to view this peak I am sure I will agree. Of course, Sagarmatha is but one of the peaks that decorate the Himalayan range, the majestic trajectory of mountains that separate the Indian subcontinent from the remainder of Asia2. Nepal lies on this mountainous path, and so it is natural to think that if one travels to Nepal, one will inevitably land in the mountains. However, the Vajra Varahi clinic, our home and workplace come January, is in the Kathmandu valley, south of the capital city. I’ve been told that the temperatures there in the winter are similar to those in Portland, which is temperate. It rarely goes below the freezing mark for a long period of time here, so that’s good. But heat is surely a treat, and as I said before, in Nepal we won’t have any.
In Chinese medicine, diseases are differentiated and categorized by the different qualities in nature. There are warm diseases, and cold diseases; Yin-type diseases and Yang-type diseases. Sometimes we might say that someone has ‘wind in the channels’. Or an organ may be encumbered by dampness. Naturally, the climate and environment will affect the health of a person, and it would be safe to say that there are more warm and dry diseases that occur in Arizona than in the Pacific Northwest. It turns out that many of the patients that visit our clinic in the winter are suffering from cold disorders. What we in the West know as a ‘cold’, or an upper respiratory tract infection (URI) is often a cold disease. We will certainly see many URI’s due to cold, and probably ones more severe than the ‘common cold’ that we all battle at the changing of the seasons . Another common condition in Chinese medicine is cold-damp Bi syndrome (Bi means obstruction), which in many cases in the West would be called arthritis. In Nepal, hard days of labor lend to stiff and aching joints, and a lifetime of this compounds. That the cold is inescapable in Nepal increases the severity and frequency of the disease.
And so we will be waiting, needles and moxa* in hand, for our patients to arrive, a few short days after landing in Nepal. I have heard there are lines out the door. Treating these disorders will be interesting, exciting, and great experience. Working with these people in great need, and who have so much appreciation for what we do, will be immensely nourishing to the spirit.
Of course, I can’t wait to share that part of the journey with you.
*Moxa is a dried and compressed form of mugwort, artemesia argyi folium (known as Ai Ye in Chinese pin yin). It is an herb that in the Materia Medica is said to warm the interior of the body and stop pain due to cold. Practitioners use various forms of it, burning like incense, either directly on the skin or hovering over a point or channel, to help warm a patient's abdomen, back, or any joint in the body.
Reference:
1. http://www.mnteverest.net/history.html
2. http://www.mrdowling.com/612-himalayas.html
