Yesterday I faced another fear–the chiropractor. Even though my parents have been going to the chiropractor ever since I can remember and I also have friends that benefit from the treatment, I still have always had the image of this in my mind:
Cracking, popping, my head being twisted off at my neck…I don’t think so. I can do that just by wrestling with my kids. I’ll just continue to live with my sore back and hips, thank you very much. It’s got to be better than this:
But as I have increased in years (I refuse to say gotten older), my aches and pains seem to have multiplied. My lower back, both hips, and the lovely plantar fasciitis that reared its ugly head a couple of years ago were starting to take their toll. Getting out of bed and hobbling around in the mornings like an 80-year-old was a mainstay. After asking friends for chiropractor recommendations, I finally decided to look my chiropractor phobia right in the face.
The chiropractor I selected was very nice, put me at ease quickly and listened to all of my woes and complaints. After examining me and my symptoms, he diagnosed my hip problem as bursitis.
Bursitis? Isn’t that something that old people get?? I am not old.
The doctor said yes, it is a common complaint especially with women, blah, blah, in their 40s, blah, blah, who’ve had children, blah, blah, who are doing physical activity (such as running) that maybe they shouldn’t do, blah, blah.
Ugh and double ugh.
I decided I don’t like this doctor.
Not really. Because he is kind of cute–Curly of The Three Stooges he is not.
After he adjusted me, which thankfully didn’t contain as much popping and cracking as I feared and fortunately my spine was kept intact, he gave me a bunch of stretches and exercises to accomplish daily as well as a to-do list that involves ice, a foam roller, no flip flops, and a trip to the podiatrist for orthotics. No flip flops?! Orthotics?! I might as well go shopping for a pair of these while I can still get around without assistance:
Sigh. This advancing in age stuff is for the birds. Truly. I know it’s just beginning, too. First, there was my perfect eyesight which left the station a few years ago and stranded me with bifocals. Then there was that automatic weight gain that seem to come with my 40s even though my eating and exercise habits were the same. Oh, and there is that “facial hair” of which no one bothered to caution me. (Someone come pluck that if I ever get disabled, please.)
However, I know that things could be a lot worse and I need to look at it as “the cup is half-full.” Many people would be thankful to have my very minor physical complaints. And there is a bright side to all of this–the cute chiropractor wants to see me again next week. Shhh…don’t tell my husband…