I planned my first chiropractic visit with hesitation and eagerness.
Years ago my friend Rick, from college, talked about his chiropractor that took a holistic view of health and wellness and used spinal adjustments to support it. I filed this information away in my head, knowing that I may need it at some point. Today, 20 or so years later, I used that information. I went for my first chiropractic visit.
Can I just mention that I have always avoided chiropractors? It’s not that I don’t value their service to society and health, it’s just that I hate being popped. I hate to have any part of my body popped.
When we were kids, my brothers used to pop each other’s toes. I, for the life of me, could never understand the attraction or enjoyment they got out of this. But they got a huge kick out of it. They teased, laughed, and made fun of each other. It was like a daily event …”the evening ritual of popping of the toes.” I would watch on in bewilderment. I just could not understand them. To me it was gross, but after all, they were just boys, one a teenage boy, and we all know that teenage boys have nasty stinky feet. Gross, just gross. They didn’t seem to notice.
Every once in a while, one of them would try to catch me unawares and try to get a hold of an unsuspecting, and frankly innocent, toe. (I’m sure that I clobbered them more than once for these attempted “popperies” of my toes.) I would recoil in horror. Not just horror, but deep down I have a fear of popping. As long as I can remember, I have had a jumpy and squeamish reaction to popping noises. I am fine with corn popping or the pop of a gun firing. But get me near someone popping their knuckles and it sets off a chain reaction of uncontrollable body contraction-like spasms. I involuntarily close my eyes and clench my teeth. If it continues on I feel my stomach tighten and the bile rise. I really don’t like the sound! I have a visceral reaction. And no, I don’t know why. I have nothing to trace this to, no traumatic event or abuse.
Once many years ago, on a massage table, a young man popped my back. I was instantly angry. As the anger flared, so did my temper and I spoke sharply and probably loudly to him. “Don’t you ever do that again! I hate being popped.” Yeah, it’s an understatement.
So here I am, at a chiropractor’s office and I know what’s coming. As I am describing why I am there (no, no sir, no pain; no accidents, etc.), I am acutely aware of my stomach. I am consciously breathing into it to keep it from clenching. Part of me is comfortable knowing that this is going to help; and part of me is terrified of being popped.
When it comes time for the adjustment, I explain my fear to him. He offers some alternatives. I tell him to go ahead and try the adjustment first.
The first adjustment on my back while I am face down made me feel slightly nauseous. It doesn’t hurt though. The second adjustment on my neck makes me jump and catch my breath as if someone came up behind me and scared me. My heart rate picked up a bit. The next two adjustments I laid on my side, twisted, legs to one side, shoulders to the other side, as he adjusted my back. You could hear the vertebrae shifting position one by one as the small explosive pops ran up my spine. Again, I felt a bit nauseous and I caught my breath. I could feel emotions rising up, but it wasn’t bad, and it didn’t hurt.
Each adjustment yielded a lot of popping noises. I focused on the sound in my ears more than the physical sensation of the movement of the vertebrae in my body. Next, I lay on my back. (Writing this is hard. Tears are coming up as I do. And my stomach is tight and feels sick. Good Lord, I have no idea where this comes from.) He adjusted one side of my neck and I let out a strangled cry, my legs and arms flew up in the air and my hands came down to cover my face. I caught my breath and felt as if I was going to burst into tears. I started breathing deeply to calm down and control the emotion. All I wanted to do was cry. The doctor asked if I felt okay. “Yes,” I squeaked out, “It doesn’t hurt. I just don’t like it.” He did the second side. I responded the same way, but this time only my right leg flew up and off the table, as my arms flew up and my hands dropped to my face. And again, the emotions surged forward.
I began to breathe deeply again with my hands still over my face when he told me that it was okay to cry. So I did. I let it out. Not a deep cleansing cry, but a cry to just relieve the pressure.
There is something big lurking inside my emotional self. I don’t know what it is or how it got there, but I do know that it is waiting to be let out.