Chiropractice makes perfect
Mar. 14th, 2008 08:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
robotech_masterMany chiropractors seem to believe some crazy messed-up stuff.
Believe it or not, I didn't know this until a year or so ago. I knew that my Dad considered chiropractors to be quacks, which never made much sense to me. As I understood it, chiropractic was just about straightening out the kinks in your spine, and it seemed to me that if you had kinks in your spine that needed to be gotten rid of, it made more sense to have someone shove stuff back where it needed to go than to mess with more invasive drugs and surgery and stuff. And even my Dad had to admit that chiropractors seemed to know something, when a chiropractor who happened to be a fellow member of his square dance club noticed one evening that my Dad was favoring his hand. He then proceeded to solve in about thirty seconds a chronic pain that had dogged my Dad for months ever since a horse had stepped on his hand.
Anyway, about 13 months ago, an ice-storm-induced blackout knocked out all power to my apartment, and I ended up having to go home and visit the parents for a few days until it cleared up. One day, while standing on the top of a woodpile to try to get a better cellphone reception to check my email, I fell off and landed hard on my side. I think I must have cracked a rib, but when I got back up to town and it was still hurting I wasn't sure, so I decided to see the chiropractor with an office nearby. His rates were quite reasonable, and I figured that he could take a look and tell me if something was wrong.
So I went in for a first visit, and an X-ray and stuff, and while the X-ray was getting developed, I got to watch this little movie of a chiropractor giving a speech to a graduating class of chiropractors. And wow.
Chiropractic philosophy seems to be a whole lot more metaphysical than I had thought. Apparently it isn't just about straightening out the spine being good for the spine and posture and all that. It was about some kind of magical vital essence flowing down the spine and making your body healthy, and when your spine was out of whack it was like pinching a garden hose and keeping the essence from flowing. (Well, there's actually a spectrum of belief ranging from metaphysical-type people to those who are strictly functional spine-crackers; it was just my luck to get one a bit toward the metaphysical part of the spectrum.)
Anyway, after the film, the chiropractor diagnosed that my spine was slightly out of joint, did a manipulation to set it right, and told me to come back in a week or so to check and see how it was. Oh, and he pointed out that I'd probably cracked a rib, but that would get better on its own.
I left the clinic feeling a bit embarrassed, like I had just gone to a dinner only to find that the price of the food was having to listen to some new-agey cult sermon—and since I'd eaten the food, I was obligated to put up with it. I hadn't gone back since then—until yesterday.
When I got up yesterday, I was having pains in my back. I figured I had slept on it wrong, or something. I kept having this discomfort all through the day as I sat at work, and by the end of it I'd decided to go back to the chiropractor for another $16 manipulation—especially since I didn't need an appointment.
And so I went in, and the chiropractor checked the alignment of my spine, found it was out of adjustment, and remedied this with a couple of sharp whacks. And do you know what? The pains immediately lessened, and by today they were gone altogether save for a bit of residual stiffness.
So, I've decided that I don't really care if a chiropractor believes that my spine is a garden hose for Mystic Health Juice or not. I don't have to believe it. I am prepared to believe there may be some health benefit to having my spine be straight, but what matters to me is my back not hurting. If he can keep on doing that, the guy can believe he's the Queen of Sheba for all I care.
Believe it or not, I didn't know this until a year or so ago. I knew that my Dad considered chiropractors to be quacks, which never made much sense to me. As I understood it, chiropractic was just about straightening out the kinks in your spine, and it seemed to me that if you had kinks in your spine that needed to be gotten rid of, it made more sense to have someone shove stuff back where it needed to go than to mess with more invasive drugs and surgery and stuff. And even my Dad had to admit that chiropractors seemed to know something, when a chiropractor who happened to be a fellow member of his square dance club noticed one evening that my Dad was favoring his hand. He then proceeded to solve in about thirty seconds a chronic pain that had dogged my Dad for months ever since a horse had stepped on his hand.
Anyway, about 13 months ago, an ice-storm-induced blackout knocked out all power to my apartment, and I ended up having to go home and visit the parents for a few days until it cleared up. One day, while standing on the top of a woodpile to try to get a better cellphone reception to check my email, I fell off and landed hard on my side. I think I must have cracked a rib, but when I got back up to town and it was still hurting I wasn't sure, so I decided to see the chiropractor with an office nearby. His rates were quite reasonable, and I figured that he could take a look and tell me if something was wrong.
So I went in for a first visit, and an X-ray and stuff, and while the X-ray was getting developed, I got to watch this little movie of a chiropractor giving a speech to a graduating class of chiropractors. And wow.
Chiropractic philosophy seems to be a whole lot more metaphysical than I had thought. Apparently it isn't just about straightening out the spine being good for the spine and posture and all that. It was about some kind of magical vital essence flowing down the spine and making your body healthy, and when your spine was out of whack it was like pinching a garden hose and keeping the essence from flowing. (Well, there's actually a spectrum of belief ranging from metaphysical-type people to those who are strictly functional spine-crackers; it was just my luck to get one a bit toward the metaphysical part of the spectrum.)
Anyway, after the film, the chiropractor diagnosed that my spine was slightly out of joint, did a manipulation to set it right, and told me to come back in a week or so to check and see how it was. Oh, and he pointed out that I'd probably cracked a rib, but that would get better on its own.
I left the clinic feeling a bit embarrassed, like I had just gone to a dinner only to find that the price of the food was having to listen to some new-agey cult sermon—and since I'd eaten the food, I was obligated to put up with it. I hadn't gone back since then—until yesterday.
When I got up yesterday, I was having pains in my back. I figured I had slept on it wrong, or something. I kept having this discomfort all through the day as I sat at work, and by the end of it I'd decided to go back to the chiropractor for another $16 manipulation—especially since I didn't need an appointment.
And so I went in, and the chiropractor checked the alignment of my spine, found it was out of adjustment, and remedied this with a couple of sharp whacks. And do you know what? The pains immediately lessened, and by today they were gone altogether save for a bit of residual stiffness.
So, I've decided that I don't really care if a chiropractor believes that my spine is a garden hose for Mystic Health Juice or not. I don't have to believe it. I am prepared to believe there may be some health benefit to having my spine be straight, but what matters to me is my back not hurting. If he can keep on doing that, the guy can believe he's the Queen of Sheba for all I care.
