If the perfectionist inside you is screaming for chronological order, you can read Part I of my tales from the chiropractor here.
I laid on the table for what seemed like an eternity while a stream of electrical current made my neck and shoulder muscles twitch and tingle. It wasn’t actually an unpleasant feeling, besides the anticipation of pain. And since I wasn’t quite sure what to expect, every twinge put me on high alert.
After a few minutes I decided that if I was going to get singed it would have already happened, so I tried to relax. But the hot towel on my back was indeed just that. HOT. I was getting sweaty. And I don’t normally sweat. That’s when I realized I hadn’t put on deodorant. If I had known this was going to be such a stressful heated experience, I would have changed my usual habits and slathered on a layer under my armpits.
I was about to ask some of the unseen people in the room if it was supposed to be this hot, when a buzzer sounded and the electrodes turned off.
“I’ll be with you in a second Miss,” came an unfamiliar voice. Surely she was talking to me, and not the man lying down on the table next to me who requested his levels be turned up as high as possible. My electro stimulation therapy session was over, and my neck was actually feeling a little better. I waited for all the gadgets to be removed from my sticky sweaty body. Embarrassing indeed. I’m just glad I still had on all my clothes.
The assistant led me back to my chiropractor’s office and told me she’d be with me in a minute. I was grateful for the little break. It gave me time to adjust my contact lenses that had become glued to my eyeballs during the several minutes my eyes had been tightly shut in fear. I was also feeling a little loopy from having had my head face down for so long.
“Alright, lets get you straightened out,” my chiropractor said as she waltzed with perfect posture down the hall and into her office. I was still unsure of what to think of her since she’s the one who had put me in a potential deathly situation. I was actually a little upset that I didn’t get to play out the Chuck Norris scenario I had set up in my mind.
“You’re very tight in the left side of your neck and around your first rib by your shoulder,” she deduced after pressing and poking and rubbing and stretching.
“That would make sense since those are the areas I currently want to cut out of my body,” I concurred.
“Have you ever been to a chiropractor before?”
“No. You’re the first.”
“Oh I just love being the first for people,” she beamed. And that’s when it dawned on me that this was going to be something special.
“Well let’s get you to lie down on your back. I’m going to align your spine and do a couple flicks in your neck.”
“Uh. Ok. Align my spine? But my problem is in my shoulder.”
“Yes. But everything’s connected. We’ve got to work our way to that.”
So I did as she asked. She was very convincing. And I needed something to blog about.
“Alright, I want you to cross your arms over your chest and I’m going to reach up, roll you on your side quickly and blablahblah lalalalalala eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee” and something to that effect. I couldn’t be quite sure what she said she was going to do to me because suddenly she had my body contorted into some circus freak side show position. It was . . . awkward. Somehow she had sprouted six arms and we were a tangled mess of her arms, my arms, my legs, her hair, my hair, and my bum. If that makes any sense. I can’t lie. I really hoped no one would walk in on us at that moment. It was just all wrong. At least in my mind’s eye. Who knows what it really looked like. I assume it was probably worse than my stick figure interpretation. (Click to view every nook and cranny)
And then I realized that she was about to crack my spine just as she rolled me back and pressed down. The sound that filled the room was sickening. Usually I can’t even handle hearing people crack their knuckles. But to hear the sound of my entire spine cracking, perhaps splintering into little pieces, almost made me want to vomit.
“Are you okay?” she asked, halfway worried. I must have been whiter than usual, basically see-through. “I know it’s a little strange for the first time, thinking what on earth am I doing to you. But trust me I know what I’m doing.” To which, curse Michael Scott, all I could think of was That’s what she said.
…to be continued…