As I wait for the chiropractor, I examine the walls for interesting tidbits. The room is unremarkable except for a large exam table with many detachable parts and a complicated system of foot pedals. On the wall directly opposite the door is a foam board with multiple cubbies containing roughly a hundred glass vials. Arranged in alphabetical order are various pills and powders. Most of the names are foreign to me. I recognize one labeled “thymus” and another “spleen”. Apparently, these are some of the herbs and homeopathic remedies that are advertised in the center’s brochure. On the long wall to the right of the door is a bulletin board with various postings. One is a picture which shows MRI images of a person’s lower spine. The images are labeled “before” and “after” decompression. The “before” shot shows a vertebral disc impinging on the spinal cord while the “after” shot looks entirely normal. I also see an advertisement for “estronex”, a urine test that measures estrogen metabolites to determine a woman’s risk for breast cancer. This is a bold claim, one which I sincerely doubt. I will have to research its veracity later.
After a short while, Dr. D enters the room. He observes me standing, stepping forward, and perched on one leg. He remarks that my pelvis is tilted. One side rides higher than the other. He then instructs me to lay face down on the exam table, and he calls for the assistant. He instructs her to “loosen me up”. She spends about 10 minutes attempting to relax the muscles which run along my spine. Believe me, this is not an easy task. She presses with her palms, her forearms, and even her elbows. The sensation alternates between soothing and excruciating depending on where and how firmly she applies pressure. On completion, she places some warm towels on my back and calls the doctor. He has me remain lying face down. He places a few lifts under my hips and then begins to do some “adjustments”. He asks me to breathe in, presses over my mid-spine, and cracks my back. Next, he sits at the foot of the table and pulls my legs. Then, he begins to circle. His circling reminds me of a vulture sizing up his prey. I remember my friend John’s comments, and I reflexively tense up despite my best efforts to remain relaxed! He moves in for the kill. He presses on my head and the side of my neck and sends a ripple of cracking up my neck. He then repeats this from the other side (not my favorite feeling). I cautiously wiggle my hands and feet. I am relieved to find that I am not paralyzed. Next, he pushes down on various portions of my spine and when he does, the table collapses and makes a loud clunking sound. He does a few further adjustments while I lie on my side and to my legs. He is done after about 15 minutes. It seems like a decent amount of hands-on care and face time with the doctor.
Doctor D then recommends that we do an x-ray which we will review at the next visit. He also prescribes a session on the decompression machine. He inquires whether I drink soda. When I answer in the affirmative, he gives a knowing nod of his head as if he has found the cause of all my ills. He recommends I cut out soda, but aside from this, he doesn’t stress any other dietary restrictions. I am struck that he does not suggest any particular exercises or lifestyle changes. He doesn’t even make a plug for the seat rests that are littered throughout his office.
I am next taken to a separate room and an upright x-ray of my spine is taken. The x-ray machine appears ancient, and the staff seems somewhat blasé about the risk of radiation exposure. The assistant then takes me to the decompression machine which I am eager to experience after seeing the aforementioned “before” and “after” pictures. I imagine a medieval torture device, but in fact, the machine appears benign. I lie face down on a padded table, and a soft Velcro belt is placed around my waist. The belt is attached to an ancient appearing machine which basically provides traction on one’s spine. The theory is that it opens the spaces between your vertebrae. I spend the next 10 minutes lying in a quiet room as the machine applies moderate traction to my spine. It actually feels pretty good. After awhile, I am unhooked and led to the check out counter. I arrange a follow up visit for the following Monday.
As I exit the building, I reflect on my visit. Similarly to my visit with the Naturopath, I am impressed by the amount of time that was spent with me by both the doctor and his staff. I appreciate all the hands-on time with the exception of the neck cracking. I can see why people would prefer to see a chiropractor over an internist for their back pain. Here, it at least seems that something is being done to get you better rather than just covering up the discomfort with pain killers. I am surprised that I wasn’t given instruction regarding things to avoid and exercises to perform. With the chiropractor, as opposed to the Naturopath, I seem to play little role in getting my back to feel better. Last, my neck is sore! Perhaps this will distract me from my lower back discomfort.
[Next week: Visit to the Chiropractor-part III]
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