I miss Jumpin' Guy, the affectionate and respectable nickname that I gave to my previous Chiropractor who miraculously cured me of the chronic neck pain that I had been suffering with for years.
He got that moniker because he was a young guy [I'm 60 and old. Anyone less than 40 is young to thee.] and looked like he could easily do a 'dead jump' more popularly known as a 'standing jump' which is a jump performed from a stationary position without running previous to the jump. I could readily picture Jumpin' Guy suddenly leaping from the floor to atop the chiropractic table effortlessly at any given moment when he was in the room. Yes, he had that much youth and energy exuding from his babyface pores.
I had suffered with neck pain for as long as I could remember. It hurt to carry a purse or backpack so those accessories were curtailed. Even when I wore a standard winter coat, it tugged and pulled and hurt the base of my neck. After approximately 5 or 6 months of bimonthly adjustments, the neck and shoulder pain dramatically disappeared overnight following a treatment. Relief, omg, relief is an understatement. I was overjoyed to discover that chronic nagging to severe neck pain was not a normal part of the everyday human experience. Truly, I did not know that I was in chronic pain until the pain was gone. It feels like that misery was a coconspirator that had always lived with me.
Life was suddenly grand. Then Jumpin' Guy abruptly decided to leave the state. He said something about how he had some news and I wasn't going to like it, followed by he was moving for a better opportunity. Sigh. First off, I did not like or dislike the news and it was presumptuous of him to predict my emotional response to his personal behaviors and choices. I took his statement at face value. Good riddance and good luck. I do not pretend to know the best course of action for a professional stranger nor do I feel any emotional response one way or another would be appropriate for the choice he made regarding his personal life. Okay. We had a great time. It's over. It's life. Thanks and don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.
He seemed perplexed by my calm impersonal demeanor. People make choices. They are allowed to do that as they see fit. I'm good.
So, after his departure, I was left with his business partner, a well-respected, highly touted, chiro with oodles of experience and well standing within the community. Okay. This is where it is at.
The new guy, who is actually kindof an old guy and over 40, maybe, I nicknamed Andre the Giant, Andre for short because physically he was huge compared to little Jumpin' Guy. The first time I met him for an adjustment, well, not the greatest of first meetings but memorable as Hell.
We had our initial small talk chat. I stated my issues. He performed some adjustments. Then he took a step back, arms out to the sides as if he was a magician who had just performed a trick and amazed the whole audience so he was taking his bow before he left...and I said, well, it still hurts here, as I pointed to the sore spot on my neck that I had walked into the office with and mentioned to him just moments previous.
He looked stupefied and lost, unsure of what to do next. He thought a bit and then went to stand behind me as I sat on the table edge. As he put one hand onto the front of my neck, my back pressed against his belly, and he was manipulating my head, with his other hand, I freaked out with a body memory slash flashback of one of my childhood sexual abuse incidents. I jumped off the table in tears and spew those unfortunate words that I have shouted aloud way too much, "back away; I'm a sexual abuse survivor; it's not you, you've done nothing wrong..." and I'm throwing up my hands in defense as I back away to the far wall sobbing.
Yikes. Composure does not come easily to me in those moments when the pain of the past suddenly bites me in the ass or, in this case, in the neck.
Andre appeared to keep his calm . He said that he had had this happen before. And that's really all I remember him saying before I gathered my flailing dignity, reached out to shake his hand in my universal gesture for "it's not you, it's me and all is well, you've done nothing wrong". It was a gesture of apology for my ruckus and a symbol that I did not hold him personally responsible for my traumatic childhood abuses. Okay. I made another appointment and spent the day at home, in bed, recovering.
Fast forward three months to today, I saw Andre for the third time. I'm recognizing his chiropractic performance pattern. Whereas Jumpin' Guy would listen to me explain my symptoms, perform the adjustments, ask me how I felt, and when I was still experiencing discomfort, he would try alternative forms of manipulation via feeling where the muscles and tendons were tight. Andre handles treatments differently.
Andre appears to be listening to me. Then he executes chiro moves 1, 2 and 3 followed by me flipping over on the table and doing moves 4 and 5, whereupon he does that magician move each and every time. He takes a step back, does that imaginary bow waiting for the applause and I, well, I tell him that I am still in pain which is his cue to look befuddled and vacant and a little bit annoyed around the corners of his eyes and the downward edges of his lips. He doesn't know what to do. Apparently no one ever questions the magician? Is this only me that gets the exact same repeated, ineffective treatment week after week and dares to confess the trick didn't work? Because he does look majorly confused when I ask for his additional professional help.
He does not repalpate the area to feel where the muscles are still tightened and bent out of shape. He looks at me as if it is my fault, my bad that the treatment didn't work and I'm giving him grief. Really? No one else ever questions the man behind the curtain cause he gets the adjustments right the very first time, no need to revisit the affected, injured area to see how well or how poorly the adjustment performed? I'm stymied here.
I left the appointment sooooooo dissatisfied and annoyed, dismayed and let down. The pain I had put up with for over a week and thought I would be leaving at Andre's office was still with me as I walked to my car and drove home. I'm actually highly frustrated and rather furious about this. Granted, I'm sore and I get pretty crabby and unreasonable when I'm hurting but I really do not know how to remedy this near-drowning, painful and irritating condition.
I have tried on three occasions to attempt to get Andre to reexamine and retreat the area. He does not. I see his pattern is reoccurring and unwavering. I cannot win with his form of treatment. There is no way out as my insurance covers him and trying to change to another chiropractor may be denied or there may be someone even more ineffective [plus, who wants to go through that whole almost mandatory first visit flashback fiasco anyway?] The one positive aspect that does help mitigate Andre's behavior is that my insurance does cover a monthly massage therapy treatment. These massages have reduced my overall discomfort and pain. This is true. It takes the edge off enough that I can continue to function close to normal properly adjusted or not.
I dare not or, rather, I know not how to address Andre the magician. The upfront, Aspie honest part of me wants to tell him that he isn't as effect as his former partner and give him the reasons why I believe that to be the case. I think he should do more thorough physical exams before and after treatment and compare and notice what manipulations are working and which are not. My Autistic nature really wants to prevail and be honest and get pain free by stating this. But, the rational part of my brain says that addressing someone in that manner, telling them they are ineffective and relaying our non-professional opinion about what needs to change feels wrong, too in-your-face, risky and possibly insulting to him.
I am now trapped in a bad, not-as-healthy-as-it-could-be professional relationship with my chiropractor who has this new moniker of 'magician'. I can see no way out. Somehow, I have to figure out how to endure or say small things to promote positive changes with his half-ass treatments. I hate this. I suffer. A professional is employed to assist and he fails miserably at his task and I am the one paying the fare.
Yes, I miss Jumpin' Guy. I'll always be grateful for his miraculous, highly professional help in diagnosing and relieving me of my chronic condition. His moving has forced me into an unexpected and uncomfortable situation which I need to work on fixing.
The Chiro and Me, or supposed to be getting help but getting only frustration.
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