A Journey to Chiro

You guys, I'm a hot mess.

I'm the type of person who hates... HATES... caving and going to a doctor. Which, let it be known, I am fully aware is not a right afforded to everyone -- I am beyond grateful to have access to good, quality medical care in the best medical community in the world, and to have really great benefits that make seeking treatment possible. These are the things I think about whenever I want to scream at the top of my lungs when I'm stuck in yet another waiting room or being poked at by another person in a white coat (you could at least buy me dinner first, Doctor McGrabby).

By now everyone is sick to death of hearing me yammer on about my ankle/tendon/foot problems, myself included. Thankfully, after six months of treatment, five weeks of PT and finally finding the right podiatrist, I've been fitted with custom orthotics and am fully cleared to run/exercise freely again.Which would be fantastic, aside from the fact that while foraging under my bed for the mate to my perfect, sparkly Steve Madden heel, I managed to tweak something in my upper back to the point that I yipped.

YIPPED, people.

A week and a half later, I still can't move my head toward my left shoulder or backward without getting a searing shot of electricity down my right arm. Football-type friends of mine have informed me that this is what is known as a "stinger." While it sounds cool (like I'm related to Optimus Prime or something), it hurts like a bitch, as does the lingering ache that seems to have taken up residence through the entire upper right quadrant of my body. I'm pretty sure my stomach walls are weeping for mercy after ten days of anti-inflammatories, but that's what the doctor ordered.

Which is why later this afternoon, on the advice of my massage therapist, I will be embarking on my first foray into the world of alternative chiropractics.

In the interest of full disclosure, I should say that I saw a chiropractor for a lumbar injury sustained at age 18. He was a member of my family medical practice who also happened to be a DC. He checked my chart, asked some questions and cracked my spine to improve blood flow to promote healing in the vertebra that was hurt. I went three times and that was that. This, however, promises to be in a completely different stratosphere from that encounter.

To put it in perspective, the first question on my New Patient Intake form is, "Please tell us about any stress you know of that was associated with your birth (your entry into the world, not your child's)."

It took every ounce of self-control I possess not to start that answer with, "It was a dark and stormy night..."

Admittedly, I'm a bit nervous, but not in a bad way. I'm nervous in the same sense that I was when I went to my first cognitive behavioral therapy session for my social anxiety in college ("What if she says, 'sorry, pal, you're screwed?'"), my first yoga class ("Is there going to be chanting? What if I fall asleep and drool all over the floor, causing the teacher to slip and fall in a puddle of my saliva, ruining her knees and costing her her livelihood?"), or my first massage ("What if my body is weird? Will there be Enya?"). I went into all of those "alternative" practices with a heavy dose of cautious skepticism which, at the end of the day, proved totally unwarranted. I use the techniques I learned through CBT each and every day. I love yoga and partially blame this new little "problem" on the fact that I stopped practicing while I rehabbed my foot. I firmly believe that a deep tissue massage was the single best use of my money in the past six months.

I'm relying on my positive experiences with all of the above to get me through this new, somewhat intimidating, encounter. Sure, it might be weird and it might push me way outside the boundaries of both my physical and emotional comfort zone, but I am trying to approach it with an open mind. The practice I'm going to has a TON of five-star reviews and when I called my health insurer to double-check my coverage, they knew exactly where I was talking about. All bode well for an interesting new experience and, with any luck, some relief from this continuous ache. Besides, at this point, if some random stranger on the T said that he or she could cure these stingers, I'd probably offer up my car, my computer and the deed to my first, unpurchased house.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a birth story to concoct....