it.”
He looked at her. “That’s good.”
She felt like an ass. “It’s just that…” The words dissolved. She was saying too much, without really saying anything at all. She did that when she got nervous. Better for her to just shut up now. “I’ve got a few ideas of my own about how to bring up my income,” she lied.
She did, at least, have a good idea about how to get shoes now that she couldn’t afford to actually purchase them, but something told her that Phil Carson wouldn’t be very impressed by her plan or the fact that she’d taken care of that before thinking about the more serious matter of her income.
“Excellent. Now.” He cleared his throat and held out his hand. “If you could pass all of your credit cards this way, we can get started….”
“I’m going to place a small metal bar into the cartilage of your ear right here.” Dr. Kelvin Lee pinched a spot on Sandra’s earlobe.
“Will it hurt?” Sandra asked. A silly question, considering the fact that she was lying on the acupuncturist’s table with about forty needles sticking in her at this very moment.
But Kelvin Lee had the tact not to point that out. “It might hurt for a moment when I insert it. But little more than a prick.”
“So how long does it stay there?” she asked, wondering if the fifteen minutes for the needles had passed yet.
“A month.”
“A month ?”
“Auricular therapy is different from acupuncture,” he explained patiently. “It continues to work as you leave the bar in.”
The way it said that, leave the bar in, she pictured herself like one of those tribal women who put bigger and bigger tubes in their ears until eventually their lobes hung down lower than their sagging boobs. “I don’t know about this—”
“I assure you, it will not be painful.”
She swallowed. If it would help her get the hell out of her apartment now and then, she shouldn’t care if it was painful. “Okay.” She squinted her eyes shut. “Go ahead.” She waited a moment while he felt around on her earlobe for the spot. She opened her eyes. “It’s okay, you can do it.”
“I just did.” He smiled, displaying the kind of quiet confidence that made her wonder how she could have doubted him.
She lifted her hand to her ear and, sure enough, felt a little metal bar, much like the post of an earring, running through the back of her lobe. “That’s it?”
He nodded. “That’s it.”
She was still for a moment, trying to see if she felt any different. But she didn’t. “When will I notice a difference?”
“I cannot say for certain. It’s different for everyone. More than likely you will notice what you’re not feeling in terms of panic and stress, rather than feeling something new.”
Three hours later, Sandra, despite a healthy dose of skepticism, started to think maybe he was right.
It was hard to pinpoint exactly what the difference was. It wasn’t like she was suddenly ready to get on a crowded Metro car, but the idea of going out and, say, picking up groceries wasn’t quite so daunting as it would have been even yesterday.
The next morning, the improvement was still there. In a way, Sandra felt like she could take on the world, but she knew there was a bit of false confidence to that. If she went out and hopped on a bus, she’d probably be clawing her way out of it at the first stop.
So the bus was out. But the corner grocery store seemed doable. She went out for salad fixings and Skinny Cow ice cream bars. And while it wasn’t exactly a party, she found she wasn’t panicking so much as she usually did.
She went back to her apartment in some amazement, wondering if that little stick in her ear could really have the power to help her get over her agoraphobia.
There was one pretty good way to find out.
Tomorrow was Tuesday. The day Shoe Addicts Anonymous met. She could just go once, she told herself. If it worked, great. If it didn’t, she could at least say she’d done it and
He looked at her. “That’s good.”
She felt like an ass. “It’s just that…” The words dissolved. She was saying too much, without really saying anything at all. She did that when she got nervous. Better for her to just shut up now. “I’ve got a few ideas of my own about how to bring up my income,” she lied.
She did, at least, have a good idea about how to get shoes now that she couldn’t afford to actually purchase them, but something told her that Phil Carson wouldn’t be very impressed by her plan or the fact that she’d taken care of that before thinking about the more serious matter of her income.
“Excellent. Now.” He cleared his throat and held out his hand. “If you could pass all of your credit cards this way, we can get started….”
“I’m going to place a small metal bar into the cartilage of your ear right here.” Dr. Kelvin Lee pinched a spot on Sandra’s earlobe.
“Will it hurt?” Sandra asked. A silly question, considering the fact that she was lying on the acupuncturist’s table with about forty needles sticking in her at this very moment.
But Kelvin Lee had the tact not to point that out. “It might hurt for a moment when I insert it. But little more than a prick.”
“So how long does it stay there?” she asked, wondering if the fifteen minutes for the needles had passed yet.
“A month.”
“A month ?”
“Auricular therapy is different from acupuncture,” he explained patiently. “It continues to work as you leave the bar in.”
The way it said that, leave the bar in, she pictured herself like one of those tribal women who put bigger and bigger tubes in their ears until eventually their lobes hung down lower than their sagging boobs. “I don’t know about this—”
“I assure you, it will not be painful.”
She swallowed. If it would help her get the hell out of her apartment now and then, she shouldn’t care if it was painful. “Okay.” She squinted her eyes shut. “Go ahead.” She waited a moment while he felt around on her earlobe for the spot. She opened her eyes. “It’s okay, you can do it.”
“I just did.” He smiled, displaying the kind of quiet confidence that made her wonder how she could have doubted him.
She lifted her hand to her ear and, sure enough, felt a little metal bar, much like the post of an earring, running through the back of her lobe. “That’s it?”
He nodded. “That’s it.”
She was still for a moment, trying to see if she felt any different. But she didn’t. “When will I notice a difference?”
“I cannot say for certain. It’s different for everyone. More than likely you will notice what you’re not feeling in terms of panic and stress, rather than feeling something new.”
Three hours later, Sandra, despite a healthy dose of skepticism, started to think maybe he was right.
It was hard to pinpoint exactly what the difference was. It wasn’t like she was suddenly ready to get on a crowded Metro car, but the idea of going out and, say, picking up groceries wasn’t quite so daunting as it would have been even yesterday.
The next morning, the improvement was still there. In a way, Sandra felt like she could take on the world, but she knew there was a bit of false confidence to that. If she went out and hopped on a bus, she’d probably be clawing her way out of it at the first stop.
So the bus was out. But the corner grocery store seemed doable. She went out for salad fixings and Skinny Cow ice cream bars. And while it wasn’t exactly a party, she found she wasn’t panicking so much as she usually did.
She went back to her apartment in some amazement, wondering if that little stick in her ear could really have the power to help her get over her agoraphobia.
There was one pretty good way to find out.
Tomorrow was Tuesday. The day Shoe Addicts Anonymous met. She could just go once, she told herself. If it worked, great. If it didn’t, she could at least say she’d done it and
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