further thoughts on chiropracty

I can't imagine that any of you are even remotely interested in my continuing chiropractic woes and jubliations (except maybe Lisa -- hi, Lisa!), but they're going to continue until my spine is shaped the way it's supposed to be. So take in a deep breath... now let it out... (CRUNCH!)

Today I got Activated! (I feel like a sleeper cell or something.) I went to the chiropractor with a painful muscle below my right shoulderblade. When I told the doctor about it, he poked it and said, "Oh, yeah, it feels like you twisted a rib."

I TWISTED A RIB? How does one even do that?? (Probably while gasping for breath near Patchouli Man -- who was back again today, Iamnotkidding.)

He poked it some more and then he left to go get his "Activator" from the other room.

In a mild panic, I considered bolting from the room. The Activator?? Visions of my sister danced through my head -- Polly in her flannel nightgown, shuffling her wool-sock-clad feet across the carpeting, hair sticking straight up and outstretched finger aimed right for my nose. That had to somehow be involved in "Activation," didn't it? That, or cattle prods. I wasn't sure I wanted to stick around to find out.

When he came back, I was still face down on the table (suffocating on my own bad breath) so I didn't see the activator until he told me to stick out my finger. (For a second, I swore I saw flannel pajamas sticking out of his pants.) He activated my finger and it felt like nothing. He activated my rib and it felt like a million bucks. I don't know how this little door-stopper-like device could fix my twisted rib, but I like it. Activate me all you want, My True Love Chiropractor!

Unrelatedly, while he was working on me, he apologized for having mints in his mouth.

"I went to the dentist today," he said, "and I got my teeth cleaned. But Dr. Chow said that my breath smelled like Dr. Golden's Fart, so I'm trying to fix that."

"That's ok, I can barely breathe in here, what with my face jammed into this table."
(pause)
"He said your breath smelled like fart?"

"Yeah."

"What'd they do to you at the dentist??"

The visit wrapped up with him telling me about how the other doctors in his practice will often sneak into a room when he's with a patient, fart, and then leave, ensuring that the patient thinks that he, Dr. Chiro, was the one who farted. I am secretly tempted now to fart, and blame it on the other doctors...