This past week was my second visit ever to a Chiropractor. I have never been convinced about this form of treatment and I guess it will still take some time for me to see the value and goodness in it. But of course, I will always have a story to tell.
Before I get to the detail let me provide a little context. I am a visual person and when I can’t see what is being done to me I get extremely anxious. My fists and jaw start to clench up, my body becomes clammy and tenses all over to the point where it’s about to cramp. I often have to warn a doctor that I take no responsibility should I just happen to knock him out! Especially the dentist. So the moral of the story is let me see what you are doing or tell me what you are doing. Otherwise face the consequences!
I arrive 15 minutes early. Park my car, in the precise way I was so rudely told by a previous client on my first visit. I send a WhatsApp to my hubby telling him I have arrived. Next thing I know the Chiropractor is knocking on the window of my car. I open my door to climb out.
“Come in now before someone else tries to slot in before you”!
Interesting. Is this all part of his service?
I rush inside and quickly slip into one of those sexy looking gowns that open at the back. And into the room I go.
After some small chat the next instruction was given.
“Lay down here on this table.”
Now this Chiropractor is one who has been in practice for 40 years. He loves what he does, you can just see it. The table I was to lie on looked something like this (imagine one like this but much older):
And with good ole leather straps and buckles!
I lie down on my stomach and immediately he starts to strap in my feet, followed by a larger strap for my lower back which further got strapped to the head of the table with tie downs. He tightens the straps by pulling the slack through the self-locking buckles. No quick getaway here! We seem to be good to go. Of course at this point I have to ask him what he thinks he is doing! Trying to keep it light hearted so as not to publicise my fears or offend him, it went something like this:
“You do know this looks and feels a little like 50 shades of grey?”
In response, with a seemingly large smirk across his face, he replies:
“My dear, if every woman gave me one rand for everytime that was said, I would be a millionaire!”
No wonder he is constantly booked up with a schedule he has full control over!
I must admit though, he was a real gentleman, professionally talking me through the entire treatment. It was more my husband that stunned me later in the day. When he got home he came and gave me a hug only to say:
“You seem a little taller!?”
Of course I didn’t get it until he too shed a smirk. I should be taller after having a little 50 shades of grey stretching treatment!