Today---3/30/13. Tomorrow I will lay low, no doubt. Not only 3/31/13, but Easter. Beware the fertility rabbit of chasteness on days whose numbers portend so ominously.
Yesterday, it was the chiropractor again. Jenny basically made me go.. dammit. At first, around nine when I woke up, she gently reminded me to call the hairlipped bonecrusher to see if I could get in. I said I would, but didn't (I am a liar), so at a quarter 'til noon she got between me and this computer and said gently, yet firmly, "call him, now."
So I did. Well, not him. He has a cute blonde with shining personality named Mallory who answers the phones. The doctor himself has skills, but talking on the phone or other forms of talking for that matter, ain't his for-tay.
Mallory said "he leaves at one pm on Fridays but if you hurry . . ."
I said I would be there and knowing it would hurt, I took a narcotic, then a cranberry tablet for urinary tract, a 50 milligram zinc for the pissy prostate problems, a 595 mg pottasium gluconate for hips and knees and because I don't dig bananas, and a huge multi-mega-vitamin to make my pee turn fluorescent orange (or maybe it's the cranberry that does that).
Right.. yes, hairlip would hurt me, no doubt, but not going hurts worse (here recently.. apparently.. cripes) and Jenny knows what is best. In other words she's had enough of my whining.
This issue with my back started quite a few years ago for no obvious reason that I could ascertain at the time. Of course being a man I ignored it and endured the discomfort pain until I noticed one day that I couldn't push a grocery cart in a straight line due to the way I walked. A pair of really old ladies were watching me, pointing fingers and laughing at my posture that day, so I broke down and went to a chiropractor. Not hairlip-- I found him later. It was a female chiro who asked me if I wanted her to go easy or do the full adjustment in one session. I told her "all at once baby!
Maybe I shouldn't have called her that, for she was rough in her treatment of moi that day. When it was over, my every joint had been cracked violently, some of them multiple times and it took me a full twenty minutes to stand up afterwards, but sure enough within a couple of days I was walking straight again without pain.
It was two more years before the back went bad again. Same place. Twas then that I met my current linguistically challenged chiropractor. He fixed me. Then only a year later I was back... point being, the times between keep getting shorter.
I was there two months ago. If this trend continues the bastard will finally get his way..... me going in for 'an adjustment' three times a week.
Lately, the pain, which radiates out from these two vertebrae in the center of my spine, has been beyond just a nuisance. It shoots to the right mostly, when I turn a certain way, or when I get in and out of the bath tub. So much that I've wondered recently if my once fresh and pink right kidney may have rotted... but not having health insurance, coupled with fear of the bad news a real doctor might give me, has kept me away from those guys.
I wish I could type the way my chiropractor talks. Believe me I have tried. I walked out of there yesterday with tears in my eyes, of that I can assure you. Tears yes, but the important word here is walking. I was even able to do other things again too... wow . . meow. Hello baby---thanks for making me go!
Chiropractor dude fine-a-wee gets his way too... I prepaid for another appointment next Wednesday which will be directly after a 55 minute deep tissue massage at the nearby masseuse college that Mallory told me about on the sly. I am much too young and vital to be in this much pain.