 My husband suggested that I go see my doctor."I don't need a
regular doctor," I said. "I need some sort of doctor who does bones
... a bony-ologist or something. Is there such a thing?"
He gave that look that told me I was a few noodles shy of a full
pot.
What? How am I supposed to keep track of all the -ologists out
there?
A friend told me to try a chiropractor. They work with bones and
might be able to help me. So that's what they're called! A doctor
that doesn't end with "-ologist." Who knew?
I made an appointment and was pleasantly surprised when I didn't
have to wait two weeks to see him. In fact, I could go the next
morning! I'll be darned!
While sitting in the waiting room, I only made it three
paragraphs into the magazine article I was reading before a girl
with a blinding smile and a clipboard came to retrieve me. Only
three paragraphs! What kind of doctor's office is this?
The girl with the clipboard, who reminded me of the cruise
director onboard a ship, led me to Fun Room 1, where she told me to
put on a hospital gown.
"You know," I said to the cruise director, "it's my neck that
hurts, and I didn't wear a turtleneck."
"Mrs. Snyder, your neck is connected to the rest of your spine,
so we need to know how the whole thing is working."
Since I am neither a bony-ologist nor a cruise director, I had no
choice but to accept her explanation.
When she came back, clipboard in hand, she took an X-ray,
something I was familiar with. My dentist made sure of that. Then
she sat me down and proceeded to run an instrument with two wheels
down my back. These two wheels straddled my spine like a choo-choo
train on a railroad track. She told me it would find the bad spots.
Maybe she didn't hear me. I had no problem identifying the bad
spots. I was reminded of them every time I moved my neck. But I let
her finish the scan ... just for the heck of it. Then she told me to
get dressed again, picked up her clipboard and left Fun Room 1.
When the cruise director came back, she told me I was ready for
some "therapy." Seeing the look on my face, she said, "Don't worry,
you'll love it!" She flashed that 100-watt smile again and led me to
Fun Room 2.
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 She then placed some pads with wires attached to them on my back
and told me to lie down on a bench that was missing the middle
section. Was this some kind of sick experiment?
When the pads started vibrating and the roller under the bench
started massaging my back, I was relieved. OK, this is good. The
cruise director shut off the lights, turned on a recording of rain
and left the room. Now that's what I'm talkin' about! I didn't care
what they were going to charge me; this was worth every penny! I
would have paid extra if they had offered a cucumber wrap and a mud
bath.
A very short eight minutes later, just as the sounds of raindrops
were forcing me to consider answering the call of nature, the cruise
director reappeared and showed me to Fun Room 3. She flashed me a
smile and closed the door.
This room didn't look quite as fun. There were pictures of
deformed skeletons that kind of freaked me out.
A knock on the door, and in stepped the bony-ologist, Dr. Yummy.
I had nicknamed him because my brain had temporarily stopped
functioning. I told myself it was because of the "therapy," but it
was probably because this guy didn't look like any doctor I'd ever
seen. He was actually cute! They sure don't make doctors like they
used to.
Appearances can be deceiving, however, and it wasn't long before
my star-struck opinion was radically altered. He explained to me how
the train on my tracks had derailed and I was left with a wreck in
my neck that would take a lot of work to clean up.
Then he told me to lie down on my stomach and we would start the
first of many torturous treatments. As I heard my back "crack," I
thought, "Oh man, that can't be good." But Dr. Yummy seemed to think
that the crack was the objective.
After that, I was told to lie on my back. He then attempted to
pull my head off my shoulders. It didn't work though, so he tried
something else.
You know those scenes in the movies where someone sneaks up on a
guard and yanks his head sideways and kills him? Well, I'm here to
tell you that you can survive that sort of thing. I did ... twice.
In fact, I felt pretty good when I left Dr. Yummy's office. I have
another appointment tomorrow. I'm actually thinking about going
back. Maybe I'll ask for that cucumber wrap.
[By LAURA SNYDER]
You can reach the writer at
lsnyder@lauraonlife.com
Or visit www.lauraonlife.com
for more columns and info about her books.
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