Since I am in no way shape or form ready to head out into the real world to pick up my film due to my bad back, I decided to write about my chiropractor experience I had yesterday.
This is how it started…
I was helping a friend out at a bar & grill. I started bartending for a little while to make extra cash, and of course, have a little fun. I didn’t realize all the ‘behind the scene’ work that went into bartending. I have a whole new respect for bartenders now—as I always did, since they were handing out my medication. I always assumed that they merely just “served drinks”… I didn’t realize that all the stock-- bottles of liquor, 50 lb bottles of wine packed in boxes and tubs of ice were all brought in by the bartender themselves. All the lemon, lime and orange wedges all cut up at 10am. Celery sticks cleaned and cut fresh for those delicious bloody marys… It’s just like getting ready for a huge party. Everything has to be perfect. Glasses stored in grates have to be brought up from the kitchen, which is located downstairs. These grates of glasses are about thirty pounds or more. Taps have to be replenished, juices have to be two bottles ahead for mixed drinks, and clean dishes and silverware have to be stored under bar, so that your drinkers can eat while they consume massive amounts of alcohol.
Even though this was just a casual bar & grill, I wanted to look good for the part. I dressed up and wore high heels. Three inch high heels. Why? First of all, I’m short, 5’3, and the liquor was quite high on the shelf. I couldn’t reach them without wearing heels. Little did I know that I would pay for it later. Standing for seven to eight hours each day, I came home with my feet pulsing. There wasn’t a moment of sitting down…until I got home. I always wear high heels, but why are they bothering me now? I run around all day in heels, go shopping in heels, except for when I go to the gym… Sneakers are a must while working out…
My back started aching…but I still continued to bartend. Ah, what’s a back ache? I really never experienced back problems before, so I didn’t realize how much I took for granted. One week of back pain turned into two weeks, and then into three weeks. I even had back pain while on vacation. Walking helped ease it, but once I went to bed, I would lock up and feel the aches all night.
I get out of the shower and go to flip my hair over to put it in a towel. Once I flipped my head over, my back locked up, and I went down.
“Madelene!!!” Luckily Madelene was off yesterday, or I would have been lying there all day wishing I had one of those 911 buttons hanging off my neck.
“Oh my God!” Mad says, as she runs over to pick me up with a towel half on my head, as I laid there like a wet chicken. She put a towel around me and helped me up, as I was screaming and crying in pain. I was hysterically crying like a two year old baby. This pain was so excruciating, that I started to feel dizzy. I thought I would pass out.
At 3pm, I headed off for an emergency appointment to the chiropractor’s office. Madelene and I sat in the waiting room.
~^~ClicK! ClicK! ClicK! ClicK!~^~
I looked at Madelene in fear. The thought of hearing bones cracking all the way out into the waiting room made me shiver. I went to a chiropractor once before back in 1998, and he twisted and manipulated my body, as my bones cracked furiously. No, get your minds out of the gutter…
~^~Click! ClicK! ClicK!~^~
“Mad?” I whispered. “Do you hear that?”
“Are those bones?”
“I don’t know.”
I kept flipping through my pages of People magazine to see all the new celebrity break ups. I know what you’re thinking—my OCD would never let me touch magazines sitting in a doctor’s office… My thought is, this is not a ‘doctor’ per se, and people don’t come into that office because they’re sick with some kind of bug.
I saw a man walk out of there smiling. I was relieved to see that expression on his face. I really thought I was about to see someone crawling out of there, by the sounds that were coming out of the examination room.
“Debbie? Come with me.” The receptionist says.
I sat there on a Frankenstein-like table, waiting for a man to literally ‘jump my bones’ back into place. Ironic, huh? I finally heard someone flipping through papers outside the door. I knew it was doc looking at my chart on his clipboard seeing what kind of mental disorder meds I was on.
The door opens, and a man comes in, shorter than me! How cute this little man was.
“Debbie? I’m Dr. Greenberg, how are you?”
“Hi, fine thanks.”
“Stupid question on my part, huh? You’re not fine, you’re in pain!” He says, as he chuckles.
“Where’s the pain Debbie?”
“My lower back.”
“Here?” As he rubs my lower spine.
“Yeah, but more by my tailbone.”
“Here?” As he is practically rubbing my @ss.
“More on the right?
“Stand up please?” He asked.
Doc starts rising the table vertically.
“Face the table, and put your face in the hole. Hold on to the bars as I recline the table back.”
I was about to place my face into the hole of this leather table, when I noticed----to my horror---FACE MARKS! It was almost moist with someone else’s face marks! I was going to vomit right there. I wanted to run out of there screaming! I even smelled cologne coming off the table from the previous patient. This was unnerving to say the least. When the table was horizontal, I held my face up with my hands.
“It appears to be that you sprained your hip. One leg is shorter than another, due to muscle tightness. It’s not a slipped disk or anything.”
“Great, I’m crooked and I have hip problems at my age…” I said, as my voice projected from under the table.
I felt a little shock of something poking my spine and side area. It didn’t hurt at all, but it felt sort of weird.
“I’m using a specifically designed instrument that enables me to make the needed adjustments.”
He showed me what he was using. It looked like a little silver gun that had a trigger. Each time he pulled the trigger, a blunt flat surfaced rod came out to give me a jolt. He wasn’t cracking bones at all!
“I’m going to leave an ice pack on your back for about ten minutes. Just lay here, and I’ll be back…”
Still the dilemma remains—the face marks! I can’t put my face in this hole. I lifted my head, and somehow, while the doctor was helping another patient out, he peeked back in the room and asked if I was okay.
“Oh I’m fine…just adjusting.”
I couldn’t take much more of the smell of someone’s cologne on this table. He must have been sweating or something, because it was still moist. This was disgusting. I couldn’t take it any longer.
Doc came back in, gave me a new ice pack to use at home, and told me to rest for three days. I was just glad to get out of there. I thought going to a chiropractor’s office would be ‘germ free’ and safe, but I was wrong.
Tomorrow I have an appointment with a massage therapist at some clinic-type spa. Some of these masseuses use some really wacky hocus-pocus voodoo-like treatments on their patients, so I’m in for a real treat tomorrow.
I’m just hoping for a clean table. Is that too much to ask for?
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