Pain in the Neck

I visited a chiropractor for the first time today, and I will not be returning to her. I had a free consultation, compliments of the St. Kate's Alumni Association Reunion 5K I ran last weekend. I figured, free consult? Why not?

The chiropractor's first words to me, after introducing herself, were, "GOD created your brain so your body could heal itself."

Oh, that's lovely, self-healing and--what? God comes into chiropractor appointments? Isn't that inappropriate? Doesn't God have more important places to be, like oppressive religious institutions and twelve-step meetings?

I let it slide. (In all honesty, I was a little distracted by her yellow eyeliner and gold eyelashes.)

She went on to explain to me what a healthy spine looks like. She showed me pictures of healthy vertebrae and told me what happens when your spine is out of line. "GOD didn't intend for your spine to be crooked," she said, gravely. Every time she said the word God, she would accent it by elongating each letter so it was the most powerful word in the sentence.

Now I was feeling...really uncomfortable, and my internal crap-radar was starting to buzz. Doctors and health care providers aren't supposed to talk about GOD. They are not supposed to guilt you into using their services by claiming that your spine, your literal backbone, is wrong in God's eyes.

I really wanted to ask her to stop with the God-talk. I really wanted to get out of the room. But, being me, instead of speaking up, I just didn't comment.

She did a computer scan of my neck and took a somber breath. "Oh, this is bad," she said. "This is almost the worst we can see."

I turned to look at the computer screen. There were red bars surrounding the virtual image of my neck. "Red is very bad," she said.

"Well, what does it mean?" I asked.

"We won't know until we take your X-rays," she said.

I looked to the giant X-ray machine just behind me and panicked. Radiation! Toxic! No! "Is it necessary to take X-rays?" I asked.

"With this sort of computer scan, absolutely," she said.

And me, being the trusting, agreeable girl I am, agreed to X-rays. It was for my spinal health. God didn't want my spine to show up with red bars on a computer screen. I mean, this sounded urgent.

So she took the X-rays and then said, (before seeing the X-rays, since she wouldn't be able to look at them until later), "You will need to come in for an adjustment right away. First thing tomorrow."

I said, "Oh, I can't tomorrow, I am busy. What about Monday?"

She shook her head. "It has to be tomorrow."

"Um...I really don't think I can make it tomorrow."

"What are your plans?"

At this point, I should have (obviously) said, "My plans are none of your damn business." But instead, because when I am frightened, I default to believing that other people have every right to know every last detail about my inferior life, I said, "Well, I have plans to spend the day with my partner. We don't get to see each other very often."

She looked very disapproving. "F....'family' is important," she said, choking a little on the word "family" as though it was hard for her to spit out, "But this is even more important. If I told you had cancer, I bet you would come in tomorrow."

What I should have said was, "You might as well tell me I have cancer, since you just blasted me with your radiation machine!"

But, being me, I just said, "Look, I can't make it tomorrow. What about Monday or Tuesday?"

And she kept pushing. ("What if I told you you had a tumor? You have to come in tomorrow, first thing. Yes, I know it's Saturday, but you have to come in......" etc, etc, etc.)

At this point, my internal crap-radar was sounding a high-pitched alarm. We're talking surprised soprano top-range tessitura. I mean: A) all the God talk, and B) this non-budging insistence that I had to make an appointment for tomorrow morning. And C) did I mention the quiz I had to take in the waiting room? I actually got quizzed on my knowledge about the spine before I was allowed into the office.

It didn't add up to me. I believe that my spine is out of line. But I do not believe that I want to work with a chiropractor who is pushy about my schedule, who forces God into the exam room, or who insists to know what my Saturday plans are.

I looked at the exit door, which she was standing in front of. "I need to go," I said.

"I really need you to make an appointment for tomorrow morning," she said.

Bursting at the seams with frustration, I said, "I. CAN'T. MAKE. IT. TOMORROW."

She finally backed out of the way and walked me out of the room. "I am going to call you with your X-ray results," she said. "And then you need to make an appointment as soon as possible."

"Fine," I said, having no intention whatsoever to ever return to this awful place. She took one last cheap shot by handing me a sheet of paper with pictures of horrifyingly bent, disfigured, out-of-line spines and said, "Do you see how awful these are? What if your spine looks like this?"

I was curiously filled with the same feeling I get when I hear stories about women who go to Planned Parenthood and are intercepted by the Pro-Lifers, with pictures of how awful this could be for your baby. What if this was your baby? Would you do this to your baby?

Angrily, images of disfigured human bones in hand, I walked out of the office.

But not before hearing...what kind of music is that? Is that the Evangelical Christian station?

And now, almost two hours later, as I am writing about the stupid experience, my phone is ringing and ringing. Yes, she is calling me to tell me about my X-rays. What do you want to bet she says something like, "Oh, your X-rays were awful. You have to come back immediately. Right now. No, RIGHT NOW. ANSWER YOUR PHONE! God hates people who wreck their spines. Come back and pay me whatever I overcharge you because God tells you to. God made your brain to heal your body, and your sinful pagan lesbian spine is making God very angry....I neeeeeeeeed your moneyyyyyyy...."

Oh, Lizzy, another lesson learned. Never go to to a health service provider without doing some basic research first. And, when you hear the Christian station?

Run.