both hands
because it takes both hands to do it right, baby


April 15, 2004
Yep, that’s what I am…humpy. And sooo not in a sexual way.

Let me explain…

So, through my fabulous business contacts, I was the lucky recipient of a free consultation with a new chiropractic office in town. I grudgingly made the appointment for last Wednesday, expecting to cancel the day before, tell them I’d call and make another appointment in the future, and then never call (yes, this was a mean plan, but what can I say? I was busy that day. If you continue to read, you’ll note that God has already begun to punish me).

For whatever fateful reason, I show up at the chiropractor’s office, as scheduled, and then feel really bad for even thinking about canceling. My soon-to-be chiropractor meets me at the door, welcoming me and thanking me profusely for coming. His practice is brand new and I’m sure he has a lot of doctor-related student loans to pay off, so he needs every patient he can get.

I read through a few pamphlets as Doc checks out my insurance card, and am ushered into his office. We chat about general health and how my family carries the genes for every major health disaster known (and probably some unknown). I get weighed (always a pleasure) and measured, and then I stand for the actual chiropractic part of the evaluation.

Doc notes immediately that I have bad posture. I am already well aware of this fact, as my mom spent most of my adolescent life telling me that I had bad posture on a continuous loop. Just as I was settling in for a chat about how I need to strengthen my stomach muscles to help my lower back, I hear two words that I will never forget: Dowager’s Hump.

Apparently, while I was zoning out Doc’s posture lecture, he was noting that my spine has begun to curve abnormally in between my shoulder blades. Are you all familiar with Dowager’s Hump? If not, please quickly check this out…and then imagine that you are 27 years old and your doctor just mentioned that you have it! OK, technically, I don’t actually have the full-blown hump (or even the slightest of humps), but even the idea of it is absolutely horrifying. Let me tell ya, there’s nothing like the words “Dowager’s Hump” to put the fear of God in you. I immediately begin listening to everything Dr. Chiropractor is telling me. I am first in line when he mentions that he can do X-Rays to check how far along my hump is. After the X-ray session ends, we make an appointment for the next day (today) so he can assess my bones. I’m sure he mentions some other things, but the word “hump” continues to repeat as I watch his lips move.

---Next Day---

I arrive at Doc’s office early this morning and am immediately brought into his office. We look at all the (bad) curves in my back, and he notes that the curvature of the hump is not severe, and it can be corrected with regular chiropractic care (of course), but that he’s found something else that is more important.

What could be more important than a huge hump on my back?

Apparently, although not as aesthetically important as a hump, having one hip 15 millimeters higher than the other is overall, physically more important. So, not only am I humpy, my off-kilter hips will eventually cause me to be gimpy. Terrific! I am so stoked I agreed to this free consultation that has now become my own personal hell!

“Fortunately,” Doctor Chiropractor says, “We can put a lift in your shoe to help correct the problem.” Oh, great! I’m equally horrified and pleased at the idea of large, thick-soled orthopedic shoes. I’ve always had a weird thing for clunky shoes. Looks like God heard my prayers—a warning to be careful what you ask for.

After being sufficiently cautioned by the doctor that without proper chiropractic care and supervised (can I not be trusted?) exercises, I could end up with a false hip at 35, I agree to come in for regular visits. Lucky me, he has time to do my first adjustment right now!

I shut my eyes when he brings out a strange gun-shaped object that thrusts back and forth “to move your discs.” To be honest, it isn’t that bad. I only hear my spine crack once, and it feels as though my backbone is being gently stretched. I’m only slightly bothered by Doc noting, “Future sessions will be a lot stronger, this is the first setting.”

Wish me luck on my next visit—bright and early Monday morning. In the meantime, just call me “Quasimodo”.

5:51 p.m. :: 0 comments so far ::
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