Thanksgiving and the time around it this year were mostly a nightmare - lots of stress, bad news from many corners, trouble with school, et cetera. And then to cap it off, the day after my mother-in-law headed back home (Monday the 28th, for those keeping score), I fell down the stairs. I slipped on the top landing, and I bounced all the way down on my ass. Thankfully, the nice layer of padding I was bitching about in my previous entry saved my tailbone from the nasty bruise I thought was inevitable.
But a month later, and [deity], my back hurts. Still. Not a little - a lot. Not some of the time - all of the time.
And so, since the fall, I've been asking Sam if I could go to the chiropractor. It's been put off to figure out the insurance and because of distractions and more stress, for the past few weeks. Since I've been living with a pretty fair and pretty constant level of back pain since a jungle gym accident in 8th grade, I just sort of... went with it.
Then this morning, I woke up, and thought, "Hey, I should call the chiropractor and at least find out what happens with my insurance." The pain was at the constant-ish level, not spiking bad, but enough to serve as a reminder to do that. So I did, and then called Sam, then went in for an appointment.
The chiropractor was friendly, and seemed smart, efficient, and able. I like all of those things in pretty much anyone, but particularly in medical professionals. He had a good handshake, too - not wimpy, like my last chiropractor. And he asked me about my history, how I felt, where hurt the worst - you know, the general stuff he should have asked, with insightful goodness.
"Alright, I'm going to run some orthopedic diagnostics today and snap a picture of your neck," he says. "But that's it, for today." Ok, so I was sort of disappointed. I think what I wanted was a massage - something that would feel good right away. But I nodded. He sat me down on the bench and touched me - not lightly, but not hard, either - in one place, then with another two fingers another place.
"Does that hurt?" he asks. Duh, I think, and I think I whimpered. The rest of the examination went much the same, him never really doing anything more than putting light pressure on any given place, occasionally asking me to turn my head or lift an arm. At one point, my entire right arm went numb, as it is wont to do on occasion. Then he took an x-ray of my neck, and I came home, and I hurt so bad right now I want to crawl into a hole and not come out for a few days. Or maybe go to bed. Apparently, I have a nice thick layer of scar tissue fucking up my neck and shoulders - and oh, yes, a couple of ribs out. No wonder I always fucking hurt.
Treatment starts tomorrow.