My Cupping Runneth Over

by Kaya

Cupping is a treatment in Oriental medicine that helps remove stagnant blood from ‘blocked’ areas of the body to increase blood flow and oxygen to the injured area. The practitioner does this through creating suction within a cup (generally a round, glass cup or bowl) by lighting a small wick to rob the glass of any air then immediately placing the cup onto the skin. The suction it pulls the skin up within the cup and gradually pulls out impurities and stagnation.

Or, in layman’s terms, it’s like getting a gigantic hickey.

I’ve had lower back pain for about 15 years. Injuries in football and wrestling exacerbated a slight curve in my spine and I’ve dealt with some back pain, ranging from subtle to debilitating, ever since. I’ve gone through physical therapy, chiropractic care, massage, acupuncture, yoga, rolfing (intense deep tissue massage) and I do daily stretches. That said, I’m generally able to exercise when I choose and, for the most part, it’s manageable but frustrating.

However, I had recently heard of a doctor doing “wet cupping” and having wonderful results in terms of pain relief. While I had received a “dry cupping” treatment in the past (no blood is exposed but still leaves your body with wild tribal hickeys), “wet cupping” involves making a series of punctures to the skin first, and physically removing the stagnant blood from the body.

How could anyone turn down the opportunity to get punctured hundreds of times and have their gummy blood slowly suctioned through their skin?

I arrived at the doctor’s “Acupuncture, Cupping and Herbal Therapy” office ready to bleed away my troubles. I was happy to see no signs of a tank of leeches, but a rather simple office smelling strongly of herbs. Dr. Park’s wife, an older Korean woman led me to my room while apologizing for her poor ability to speak English.

Without words, she pointed to the clothes I was too remove, leaving me standing in the room wearing only my underwear. I sat up on the patient table and pulled a towel over my legs to keep me warm while I waited for Dr. Park. A joyful man in his early 70s walked in to greet me.

“Oh, you very handsome! So, so handsome,” he commented upon seeing me sitting on his table in my underwear.

As I’ll take any compliment I can get, kind words on my appearance from a Korean man forty years my senior was still nice to hear. We discussed my ailments, and, in broken English, he assured me that I’d never have pain again once we got to work.

I laid on my stomach as he figured out where I’d need to be cupped. Then, since he needed to get to my backside in order to alleviate pain in my lower back, he confidently pulled my underpants down so they were held in place within the crease where thigh meets cheek, exposing my “gluteal cleft”.

“Yes. So handsome. Very handsome,” he remarked again.

Again, I appreciate a compliment from anyone, but once my boxer-briefs were down and my pale rump exposed, I was less thrilled with the flattering comments. I wanted to tell him that I appreciated the sentiment, but, to be honest, I heard him the first go around, and was fine with quitting while I was ahead.

After marking where on my body he was going to cup, he began to puncture the skin using an instrument somewhat like a tattoo gun, making shallow pin pricks in the afflicted area. I began to count the pricks to take my mind off the pain of the repeated piercing of my skin, often in the same place over and over again. He often exceeded 100 punctures, like he was aerating the lawn, before placing a large cup over the fresh wounds.

Before he left the room, I had five large cups attached to my back, held on by the suction left from the small fire within the cup. I could feel the blood being extracted and my skin taut from the suction of the cups.

He also gave incredibly detailed descriptions and metaphors about impurities and health. With his thick accent, I was only able to understand parts of the fascinating (I assume) lecture. Something about how birds are active within the first hours of sunshine and are never sick, whereas tigers are active in the afternoon and are always sick. I’m supposed to be active in the mornings or eat more birds or less tiger or something. I hope it’s not imperative to my healing, because I got a bit lost and it’s tough to give up tiger, especially around the holidays.

After several minutes passed, it was time to remove the first round of cups. When he began to dump out the blood that had collected, it was less than I thought (I imagined the cups would be overflowing with blood), but more than a shot glass full for each cup. The blood was surprisingly ‘sticky’ and gooey like a raw egg and I still can’t imagine how it got through the small pricks in my skin.

After six more cups (eleven total), my session was done. I got up a bit dazed and went to drive home unaware of the gnarly bruises left on my back –like a team of horny, big-mouthed teenagers had at me like I was the starting quarterback at the spring dance...or what it might look like if I was dating Mick Jagger.

My back felt surprisingly good as I drove home and I continue to notice an improvement. The experience was fascinating and intense and painful and relieving and bloody – making it a lot like dating. Except with slightly larger hickeys.

I’ve already gone back once, and not just because I like telling people that the bruises just showed up on my back one day, like crop circles or because I know Dr. Park thinks my bare bottom is handsome. I do think it’s helping my pains...and I like people to wonder if I got attacked by that plunger wielding lunatic we’ve all been reading about.