The magic is in the story

I have checked in with the doctors and nurses to see which patients may want to see me today. Having checked in with the patients I am waiting to see if anyone is well enough to welcome me and my acupuncture. I rest on the bench face to the sun.

I am thinking about water features and wondering whether my garden at home would benefit from having one – I really do enjoy the peace of the sound of water. I instantly noticed the nurse come into the garden and walk towards me – she tells me that none of the patients at the hospice are well enough to see me today.

I worked at the Martlets Hospice in Brighton for five years as a voluntary acupuncturist. The best aspect was to work in an integrated healthcare system. When I was there I would have the opportunity to talk to the doctors and nurses about potential patients for me to see. I would be able to access the notes on the computers. I would be able to walk down and visit the patient on the ward and treat them there. And afterwards I would make notes on the computers to add to the medical notes on the patient.

I felt valued and welcomed. All our work was for the benefit of the patients, the dying. It felt warming to be part of a team, for my skills to be openly welcomed and that we were all working together for the patient.

Working with the dying is heartwarming. Even though relationships with my patients at the Martlets were short, unpredictable and medicalised. Even though often it was impossible to talk with them as they were so unwell. Even though there is no long-term plan. When I entered the hospice my heart took over.

I delicately feel her pulse…

The treatment is almost at its end. She had not stirred through our session. Only managing a gentle welcoming gaze as I entered her private room at the hospice. Her pulse feels more at ease to me. I am pleased. I remove the needles. I touch her hand, bless her with a ‘Thank you’ and I leave. She died the next day.

I try as best as I am able to make the last few days, hours, as peaceful as possible. I read the medical notes, talk to the doctors and nurses and feel the patient’s pulse.

For me the pulse is absolutely the key. In a person who is dying the pulse reveals where the final anxieties lie. My role as an acupuncturist is to balance the pulse using my needles. If I feel a positive change on the pulse I hope I have helped the patient in their way to a welcoming death.

I take a breath…
I am still sitting in my car. I have never liked coming to this place. I gather up my old doctor’s bag containing my acupuncture tools and head towards the entrance of this once stately home and now old people’s home. As I approach the door I see at the fire exit two carers smoking cigarettes.

I enter and walk through the tidy reception. I look in the lounge for my patient, he is not there. The chairs are taken up with old people suffering from dementia and the atmosphere is far from normal. I walk down the empty pristine corridor filled with unrecognisable smells and find the room where my patient resides.

He is in his room waiting for me. He’s always waiting for me in his wooden chair. His family had organised for me to come and visit him for acupuncture treatments. He is unable to communicate with me.

I feel his pulse and prepare him for his acupuncture treatment. Whilst I am doing this and during the treatment, I tell him the stories and details of my life. I see in his eyes how much he enjoys my stories, my company, my treatments.

I worked with Age UK for eight years running regular low-cost affordable clinics for the elderly in two of their day centres. I liked bringing my obscure charisma into the dusty day centres. There are three main aspects to working with the elderly. Firstly being patient, secondly to try to improve their health, and thirdly to share stories.

I am constantly reminded in my work with the elderly to be patient. Allowing extra time for them to find their way from waiting room to clinic even though I am running late as ever. More time to get on the couch and off the couch. Time to settle after sitting up too quickly and time to fight their socks and shoes back on. In these times I find myself softening with moments of compassion, for older age awaits us all and one day I too will be fighting with my socks and shoes.

Working with the elderly can feel overwhelming with long lists of medications and symptoms. Over the years I have learned to simplify my approach. Working in clinic to balance the pulse and treating locally on areas of discomfort. These being for the elderly the watery parts of their bodies – the back, the knees, the neck, the feet. The best support I can offer them is low cost weekly treatments to support the discomfort.

Laughably, pulse-taking with the elderly is very simple. Most commonly the kidney is weak and the liver is wild. After a lifetime of jing being spent, the kidneys soften and the liver seizes its opportunity to run the show finally, without the parent’s intervention.

I describe this pulse as flooding. If an elderly person has a flooding pulse I feel it instantly and only need to feel it briefly. If the liver is not wild, then the whole pulse is often empty. These are the two most common pulses for the elderly – empty or flooding.

If Covid brought me anything it is this – that I am now removing my therapist robes and attitudes to be more me in clinic. And that starts with the honest sharing of life stories. Many of my elderly patients are isolated medicalised and lonely. Sharing stories helps to build a connection between therapist and patient. I really enjoy hearing stories of war time childhood, mischief, remembered joys and lost loves. And I love just as much to tell stories from my own life.

I am opening the clinic door…
Allowing my patient to leave after her treatment. She turns to me and asks, ‘How long did you study acupuncture for? How does it work?’

I am slowly muddling together in my head my answer to the questions – the second one always needs consideration – when thankfully she interrupts my silence.

‘I have seen physios, osteopaths, chiropractors and doctors. None of them have helped me as much as you do with your needles. After our first treatment I felt better than I had done in years and today’s feels like a miracle.’ With that she leaves, leaving me relieved and happy.

To bring relief is fantastic.

To heal a miracle.

To share in joy and connect in spirit.

That is what it’s about.

I’ve worked with many patients to the end of their lives now. The first time it happened I felt some feelings of responsibility for their death. Feeling that I could have done better with my needles for them.

These days I feel lighter, I am doing my best. Walking to the end of the lane with a patient, who will become a friend, is a beautiful walk.

Marc Stenham lives in Sussex and treats in Haywards Heath and Horsham. He is a five element acupuncturist who trained at the International College of Oriental Medicine, qualifying in 2010. When he is not working with his needles, he is working on the land – running a community garden, a children’s farm and looking after his flock of sheep.