June 7, 2005
At the Herdon Festival last weekend, I stopped in to the chiropractor's tent just for grins. They did their little stress-measurement thing and -- lo and behold -- my spine is stressed. I figure it's worth a look, so I donate 10 bucks to their pet charity and get a coupon for my free X-ray. (A $350 X-ray. They sure as hell ain't going broke.)
Well, I went in Monday and they took upper- and lower-back X-rays from the front and the side. The guy said there was some tension in various places in my back (unsurprising, given that I work on computers all day and don't exercise) and that he'd call me if he saw anything horribly wrong with my X-rays. As soon as those words left his mouth, I thought to myself, "I'm getting a call tonight."
He waited until 8:37. To hear him tell it my X-ray would make a scoliosis patient do a spit-take. I'm going in Thursday to take a look at the films. Because if I don't go in immediately I'll have a heart attack or my spleen will fall out or I'll wind up in a wheelchair or something.
And here I thought I'd missed out on the snake-oil days of medicine.
