Bright and early this morning I ventured out to a local chiropractor for an initial consultation that I scheduled after reading about the link between chiropractic and infertility. This particular clinic has designated the theme for July as “Reproductive Issues.” As I crossed the threshold I felt as though I had entered another world.
Cheerleaders greeted me (ok, they weren’t really cheerleaders, but they might as well have been with all of their perpetual peppiness) and Kool and the Gang belted out “Celebrate good times, Come on!” There was even a big sign with “Welcome Annie B,” plastered in neon green across it! I’m so not kidding here.
I flashed back to my senior year when I went to visit colleges, specifically Texas A&M, where they cheered, chanted, sang, howdy-ed and bubbled over with school spirit (If you know any Aggies, you know what I’m talking about, right?). It totally freaked me out (which could be why I eventually ended up at UT (hook ‘em))!
After the shock of the initial fanfare wore off, I was escorted to a small room where the doctor (aka head cheerleader) explained the function of the spinal cord and central nervous system and the effects associated with sublaxation (due to misalignment of the vertebrae). She suggested that this could contribute to my migraines, hormonal imbalances and possibly even our unexplained infertility.
She went on to proclaim that a well-known joke among chiropractors, are sitting around at chiropractic conferences, sipping white wine is to ask, “How many babies are named after you?” because of all the pregnancies that pop up after clients get properly adjusted (Hmm…who knew?). By the way, I’ve been craving white wine—or any wine, or a mimosa—all day now!
She then instructed me to stand on an “X” as she looked at me in a mirror that was cross-sectioned off and examined my posture. Ready? Okay! Slight left hip protrusion, head tilt to the right… until that moment I like, never realized that I like stand like a total valley girl. Gag a maggot (with a spoon)!
Following a brief interview about past accidents, my stress levels and our infertility issues, I was ushered into an x-ray room where a technician took several pictures of my vertebrae. Shortly thereafter I met with the cheerful receptionist again to schedule my next appointment, so the doctor can read my x-rays and possibly adjust me.
Around noon, Eric came home for lunch and got irritated with me because he thinks chiropractic is quackery. Of course they’ll adjust me, he suspiciously conjectured…and adjust me and adjust me and adjust me over and over again until all that’s left in my pockets is lint! I was irritated at this rejection of the notion that some inkling of a possibility might exist that this could work.
Though I, too, have wondered about the legitimacy of chiropractic, it doesn’t really seem any more absurd than acupuncture (and I do love acupuncture). In fact, it makes more sense to me. If I had to choose between chi and central nervous system, give me a C-N-S, any old day of the week!