Letter from Boston Chinese Medicine Ii By MASAKO YAMADA	フレームで見る  英文をプリントする  脚注をプリントする
中国漢方その二 以前、雅子さんは原因不明の吹き出物に悩まされ、地元の中国漢方薬局で薬を購入したエピソードをレポートしました。薬のおかげで湿疹は1週間で消え、以来、雅子さんは中国漢方を信じています。先日、ニューヨークを訪れた際にも、チャイナタウンの漢方薬局に立ち寄り、肩凝り解消のため中国式マッサージを体験しました。

I was wandering around Chinatown in New York during Thanksgiving break and noticed several signs touting Chinese-style massage, acupuncture and foot massage treatments. These signs were often hung in the windows of Chinese herb shops and pharmacies. I was very interested in trying the Chinese-style massage, since I've had shoulder stiffness for a long time and I thought it might provide some relief.

Even though the Chinese stores didn't advertise their services in a very tempting way, I felt the no-frills treatment might work well for me. I'd recently visited a Chinese medicine doctor to have a year-long case of very stubborn eczema treated, and the rash virtually disappeared after only a week. This made me a convert, so I was eager to see what else Chinese medicine has to offer.

I decided to have my shoulders treated and walked into the store. The herbalist was obviously popular, since her appointment book was full. The Chinese pharmacy near my home in Boston is busy with people from near and far, so I wasn't surprised to hear that the person being treated before me — a 12-year-old — was visiting from North Carolina.

The herbalist was a talkative, motherly sort and she kept on telling the boy that as long as he tried his best and studied hard, his parents would be happy. She even gave him a lucky cat. I liked her approach, since it was obvious that the boy needed more than a pack of pills.

When my turn came along, she took my pulse, looked at my tongue and asked me a couple of questions about my general health. This was exactly the same treatment I'd gotten at my local Chinese pharmacy. She then pointed to my face, and the topic quickly turned to my pimples. Yes, I'd been puzzled by the sudden appearance of these pimples. She prescribed a mix of Chinese herbs to brew and she also gave me a tube of topical cream.

Finally, the time for my massage came. The herbalist's brother would be doing the actual massage. The pharmacy was a tiny storefront, so he took me to a massage room in an apartment building across the street.

I trusted the friendly herbalist with the busy office and, by extension, her brother. Therefore, I did not feel unsafe going into the doctor's office inside the apartment (for some reason, it said "eye doctor" above the door). However, the place was very unimpressive.

The carpeting was worn, the massage table was a bit stained, and medicine-soaked cloths were lying about. Weird potions sat around in what looked like empty food jars. Somehow, the low-tech room made it seem as if the massage would be even more effective.

Thankfully, he used new paper towels to apply the massage liquid, and he covered the massage table with new paper. This massage resembled nothing like the spa massages I've read about in magazines. There was no soothing music, warm oils or aromatic incense.

The masseur did not do much to try to improve the mood. Unlike his loquacious sister, the man could barely speak English. He worked on my muscles with vigor, and it hurt tremendously. He would ask, "Pain? Pain?" I would grunt, "Yes," but he kept on swing ing my arms around and slapping my shoulders. It was far from relaxing, but he concentrated on the especially stiff spots, so I suppose he knew what he was doing. After the massage, he gave me some alcohol with which to rub my body, and we went back to the herbalist.

She told me that I should come back during winter break so they could work on my shoulder again. Although my shoulder hurt more after the massage than before, I am tempted to make another visit. I can't help believing that there must be a deeper truth to the somewhat mysterious behavior of these Chinese medicine doctors.

I've already brewed some of the Chinese herbs she gave me for my pimples. It's a scary looking mix of twigs, pieces of bark, berry-like fruits, flowers and things that look like pieces of carpet. It's terribly bitter, but when I visit next time, I think the pimples will be gone.

Shukan ST: Dec. 10, 1999

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