“Back crackin’, bone whackin’, new-aged quack.”

Can you guess who this quote refers to? One word:

Chiropractor.

This is actually a quite accurate description of my opinion of chiropractors. A pop of the back and you can hear better, sleep better, have fewer ulcers?  I don’t think so.
And yet I found myself at this chiropractor’s office this morning, listening to him give his schpeel about how correcting the back can help all sorts of problems.  I’m still a little skeptical, even after the visit.  It’s hard for me to get adjusted to the idea that this could actually work.

But why did I go? Pain.  Leg pain, to be exact.  It’s getting worse, and I have little faith that a medical doctor would do much more than medicate the problem. And this pain doesn’t feel like it’s going to go away with drugs.

Waaa, waa, waah. What a baby! Can’t handle a little bit of pain.”  That’s what I would think about people who complain about pain.  I’m a very unsympathetic.  I’m more of a suck-it-up-and-deal-with-it kind-of guy. I always think that people are just wimpy about pain.
But I tell you, after 3 weeks of moving around like an old man, I’m a little more sympathetic. I’m ready to rid myself of this movement-limiting, showed-up-out-of nowhere, burning nerve pain.  I’m too young to move around like this. And it feels like a back-related problem.
So tomorrow, back I will go to this oh-so-highly-recommended pseudo-doc in hopes that he can help. I’m not convinced, but willing to see if he can do something to help.

I’ll give him a chance, but I still just don’t know…

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