Wednesday, February 21, 2007

Sell, Sell, Sell

Don't waste my time. That's all I ask. I waste enough of my own time. I don't need anyone else's help in that.

Since I am approximately a million years old in my first post-partum experience, I feel like a bus hit me each and every day when I get out of bed. I threw out my back and had sciatica when I was pregnant and never really shook it. I sleep all kinds of wrong, often with a 15 pound baby on top of me, sometimes propped up with several pillows. I lug around way too much in my bag on campus without a warm-up stretch in sight. I know my neck has never had the proper curve in it. At the urging of my husband, I sucked it up and went to the chiropractor. I have seen chiropractors on and off since I was 17, so I am no stranger to the whole freaky business of it. I have had good success with most of them. I desperately want to feel good again, not get out of bed like I'm of the geriatric age-set. I want to be able to someday be back in the field again, digging my Indiana Jones heart out (No, wait-Indiana Jones didn't excavate. He looted. That's right.). I'd like to be able to get out of a car without a tuck and roll.

So, I went. My immediate reaction was "Did I stumble upon Stepford?" It's not unusual for chiropractic offices to be filled with overly cheery, positive-thinking skinny people. I'm used to that. It's part of the whole schtick. Despite my snarly, snarky exterior, I do believe strongly that your attitude can take you a long way in healing. So, the happy happy joy joy is okay. But this was off the charts in lithium elation. I should have followed my gut and ran out like my ass was on fire. But, I stayed. Got the films. Saw the "damage". Listened to the plan. Signed the papers for treatment that I couldn't afford. Cried all the way home.

I was told they REQUIRE their patients to attend a 20 minute class on health and wellness. The word "require" should have clued me in. So, last night, I feed my family, get Millie to bed, run out the door later than I should have been, with my husband, my daughter, and the classes I have to teach today on my mind. Nice and relaxed, just like you should be when someone is going to adjust your neck. But, I was comforted by the fact that between my adjustment and the TWENTY minute class, I'd be out in half hour or so. The class ran for a FUCKING hour. Full of the biggest load of chiropractic propaganda CRAP and inane obvious advice on being well. "What's that you say? We should eat well and drink a lot of water? Is that your own intellectual property or may I make a note of that for later reference?" Give me a fucking break. To insult to injury, it was just me and this poor old woman who was obviously in pain sitting in these horrendous office chairs, ironic for a chiropractic office, eh? An hour's worth of bashing the pharmaceutical industry and organized, Western medicine. Now, my father was a safety engineer for one of the largest drug makers in the world. As part of my teenage rebellion, I researched all the horrible things that big businesses stood for and all the evil that pharm companies and drug reps preached. So, I am no stranger to this. I try to keep in mind the dirty drug company money is what put me through my undergrad years in college. So there I sat, listening to the slickery snake oil salesman try to sell me his secret to a long healthy life.

The icing on the cake (or fat-free, sugar free granola bar, as would be the HEALTHY choice) came at the end. There was a card to fill out and as our GIFT for coming, we could "sign up" three of our closest enemies for a free workup, but we had to make their appointment for them that night and of course provide their phone numbers so they could be harassed by the cult directly. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME????? Seriously, are you kidding me??? I almost said it out loud, but considering this man had the ability to snap my neck and make it look like an accidental death, I refrained. I think the hour of me rolling my eyes, sighing and checking my watch said enough.

I thought I was over it after ranting at my husband last night. I guess I'm not.

Labels: , , ,

2 Comments:

Blogger Jessica said...

OMFG.

Gee, you should have given them MY number! In the mood I'm in, what I would have LOVED right now is someone preaching wellness at me.

I would have killed the poor bastard.

You have to come back home so you can go to Mark.

2:01 PM  
Blogger Kris said...

I should. He's the best I've ever had. So to speak.

Seriously. I was ready to commit some sort of homicide. The only thing that saved him was my haze of complete disbelief.

6:50 AM  

Post a Comment

<< Home