Back in July I went to sleep and woke up with a sore back that just wouldn’t go away. It caused me to have to literally roll out of bed to get up and to resort to sleeping on a hardwood floor to be at all comfortable. My primary care physician put me on anti-inflammatories and muscle relaxers but the results were minimal, to say the least. So I waited it out, using a funny pillow on loan from my sister and trying to only sleep on my back. The pain eventually went away. Mostly.
My family doctor had warned me that following this incident I would likely have more occurrences of back pain and that I might want to seek out a chiropractor.
I know people who use chiropractors and they love them but I’ve always looked at this reliance on a chiropractor as a weakness. Or a bad habit. Like how my mom used to warn me, “Once you start cracking your knuckles you’ll only want to do it more!”
Once you say you have back pain, people come out of the woodwork with their recommendations for what to do and most people handed me the name of their chiropractor.
I hesitated and here is what it boiled down to: I have a family member whose name and relationship to me will not be mentioned but who sees a chiropractor who sounds nothing but bat-shit crazy. Bat. Shit. Crazy.
The pain came back recently in a milder form than what I had in July but I was scared that I would be back to sleeping on my office floor, so I did it. I made an appointment with a chiropractor. I saw him for the first time this past Friday and it was weird but he seemed nice and not even a little bat-shit crazy so I figure that’s a good sign.
Later this week or early next week I will get my back x-rayed and figure out what made everything along my spine go wonky and hopefully I’ll get back into tip top shape. If not, the pain might drive me to become bat-shit crazy myself.
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