Got some aches and pains do ya? Sacroiliac, or God forbid, coccyx out of whack? So what will you do?
You have your traditional MD, chiropractic professional or voodoo witch doctor. It’s a tough call.
Let’s examine the individual merits together. Scratch the wild-haired faith healer, because should you not be satisfied or unable to pay, you won’t be turned over to collections, but may find yourself losing weight at an alarming rate, as did Billy Halep in Steven King’s “Thinner.” I have no reason to believe it’s not a true story.
So we’re down to MD or chiropractor – i.e. probed or yanked? Doc will put you up on the rack and Chiro will jerk you around. Either way, you’ll feel violated and want to shower when you get home. That’s the nature of the beast … unless you hang a “Wet Paint” sign on your person, there’s gonna be some gropin’ and pokin’. But when your back throbs, you’re not offended that your “space” is being invaded.
Funny story (not ha-ha funny): last year a bone-joint specialist showed me X-rays revealing a torn rotator.
I’d decide later on possible surgery, but for now said, “Please stop yanking my arm since tonight is bowling league.” If I’m lyin’, I’m dyin’; I bowled my all-time high, 247 my first game that night. Who knew?
The pet world also offers options – veterinarian, animal masseuse or a good hard kick in the back? All viable options, but I know what one lady will hereafter choose. This charming, anecdotal evidence was related by Rita, sister of my brother Paul’s beloved wife Shelia, residing in Heaven. Rita’s dog Maks was named after the DWTS dancer Maksim Chmerkovskiy who the sisters thought was just dreamy. I don’t see it.
Maks is a great dog, albeit poor judge of character since during a visit, he wanted badly to rip my face off. Since I’m a renowned dog-guy for God’s (Dog’s spelled backwards) sake, I was more hurt than angry. And scared.
Maks accepted me over time, but at 13 developed a painful back malady, leaving him unable to hop onto the couch. Down the road a ways, Paul’s horses were pitching woo in the pasture when Maks wandered into their ‘hood,” deciding a chase was in order. I guess one stud asked his crew, “Anyone want this loudmouth in here?”
The others apparently shook their heads, so the head hoofer hauled off and kicked ol’ Maks more solidly than Vinatieri has connected all year. A heart-wrenching shriek was heard throughout 2AB, but obviously the horse pasture is no place for a yapping dog that doesn’t have the good sense not to menacingly growl at a known dog-rescuer.
But a funny thing happened on the way to permanent disability – that night, Maks hopped onto Rita’s bed and has been a couch regular ever since.
I don’t recommend this for everyone, obviously. Jerry Lanchbury wasn’t jumping onto any couches for quite a spell after a horse he was shoeing shooed him away with a vicious side kick. But I also wouldn’t discourage sneaking up and goosing a grazing horse. You’d be a fool to ignore success.