I have mentioned how our holidays usually involve some level of strife. This Thanksgiving did not disappoint!
It was a beautiful day on Friday and I was antsy. I had already walked the half mile of my brother's driveway and was feeling restless, useless. "Give me a chore," I asked him. "I guess you could pull my carrots, if they're still any good," he replied. "Great," I said. "I'm going to get a drink of water and then I'll be out."
I took one, two steps up to his house when I felt it pinch.
When your back goes out, instantly you are aware and grateful for the countless years you haven't even thought about how weird it is that your spine and nerves are all wrapped around each other and how extraordinary it is that it doesn't happen more often. That instant quickly passes and is replaced by choice words and hobbling.
I flung myself upon a yoga mat and began to cat/cow. Cat was okay, cow was torture. I queued up some Pilates and cursed my tight hip flexors and my faulty SI joint. The last time it went out like this it was 2014. My scolding at Urgent Care back then was so effective that it caused me to take up Pilates the very next day. I couldn't believe how good my back felt after that first class. Later, frustrated with the breathing patterns I couldn't quite get down, I paid for an individual session where I learned what I was supposed to be doing during the Hundred. I asked why I was getting so light-headed during some of the poses.
The answer was so nonchalant and free of judgment it nearly knocked me over with its truth. "You're anxious. You're holding your breath along with your back muscles."
Not much has changed since 2014.
It was 4:30pm on Black Friday. Time was wasting. Brian furiously called any chiropractor Google could find within a 30 minute drive. None were open. "This place has more chiropractors than restaurants, and no one's working today?"
Finally one answered, replying that although they were open until 7:00pm, they were booked. Could I come back on Monday?
"Booked? It takes 5 minutes to see the chiropractor. There is no way they're booked."
"We're going," I grimaced. "I'm going to hobble in there and get my back cracked."
Fifteen minutes later we found the place. The lights were on, there were no other cars in the parking lot. I limped in. There were no patients, just two people tapping on their computers. I inquired about an adjustment.
"Maybe you could come tomorrow at 9:45?"
Here's something to know about me: I am not a pushy person. I will go out of my way to avoid conflict. I am much craftier at finding a loophole than persuading the other party. But on that rainy Friday evening I was willing to pay triple for someone to twist me up like a pretzel and body slam me. I stood there and blinked at the receptionist.
"No. I need to be seen tonight."
For a moment we all looked at each other and the only sound in the room was their oil diffuser bubbling while it blew vapor into my face.
"...how about you come back in an hour?"
The lack of patients notwithstanding, this was a win and I knew it. I drove back to my brother's, nursed the kid, and went straight back to the clinic, which was now crawling with people. The chiropractor massaged my glutes and seemed genuinely surprised when he exclaimed, "Wow, those are tight. What did you do?"
Three cracks later and I could walk without wincing. I got some potent Icy-Hot type gel. I was encouraged to come back the next day for another adjustment before I had to endure a two hour car ride. I learned to be thankful for Disney World, as the only reason this business was open until 7 on the Friday after Thanksgiving was because he had just spent the previous week in Florida with his family and needed to make up time.
"How was the only open chiropractor in Quackton?" my husband teased when I got back.
"Lovely," I replied. "But I think we're in the wrong business. I'm giving that guy $90 for 10 minutes of work."
"Too bad he's so booked."
"I'm starting to think that's a marketing scheme. At least he was open."
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