This Post Won't Heal Your Back

This post is about music, and it will heal your soul, as the Backstreet Boys do teach.  And as a healer who is open to all therapies, who am I to argue?

Therefore, consider this NOT a shameless plug, but sound (get it?) health advice that you all should heed.  Come see my husband, Robbie Roth, and my good friend, Gavin Creel, perform on Sunday November 28th, at 7:30 pm, at the Factory Theatre in Toronto.  

Velvet vocals, acoustic guitar, good times and good health for all.

Get your tickets here.

Because I care!

Bad Medicinery

It used to be a simple question, an ice breaker: "what do you do?".  Correct answers included doctor, spy, fireman.  Or maybe you're the guy who puts the ends on shoelaces, or replaces the lightbulbs in street lamps.  I know from personal experience that lightbulbs don't just change themselves, so it follows that someone's gotta do it!  Nowadays, when I ask that simple question, I'm left flummoxed.  You're a systems analyst?  You conduct market share valuations in the bonds and the whatnow?  You say you're a plumber?  I don't get it.

Ask me what I do - go ahead, ask.

Why I'm a chiropractor!  I treat musculoskeletal problems, most often by adjusting the spinal vertebra, though any old joint will do.  See?  Simple.

It's when other people try to explain what I do, that things get a little murky.  For starters, ya'll want to call me a back doctor.  Which I guess is ok, I've certainly been called worse, but why limit me?  I treat backs, necks, hips, a whole lotta shoulders... I've been known to help headaches and feet and wrists too!  I might argue that I treat 'people', not just backs and aches and such, but I worry about seeming sentimental.

There is also the issue of consistency among chiropractors, namely our lack of.  We are a wacky bunch... all doing different things with different instruments and different terminologies, and each calling it 'chiropractic'.  This subject deserves a post of its own, but suffice to say that our lack of clarity with respect to our scope is confusing at best, and undermines our expertise at worst.

But you... the regular people, the non-chiros as you are sometimes called, you ruin our good name.  How can you be expected to understand the intricacies of what we do, when you can't even figure out what to call us?  I meet you at parties, and you ask me how long I've practiced chiropractory.  In line at the grocery store, you tell me that you've had this back pain for a few months, and you've been thinking about chiropractory.  At my weekly kickboxing class at the gym you tell me how chiropactory changed your life.  Fine, I'm exaggerating on the last one - I haven't been to the gym in 2 years.  But still.

People, it's not a word.  Chiropractory.  Not a word!  Irregardless of how sure you are, fact remains: not a word.  It's a ginormous problem, this invented word.  Wanna know another?  Preventative.  Patients often express an interest in preventative maintenance.  And it's a real problem for me!  Because here is someone who values their health, who has come to recognize that it is easier to keep you well than to get you well.  They are embracing wellness and everywhere chiropractic hearts are warming... but me?  I'm stuck on preventative.  PrevenTAtive?  It just sounds wrongly.  Do I then practice alternitative medicine?  And yet, 'preventive maintenance' doesn't have the same zing.  And don't we all want a little zing from our chiropractor?

Also, it's single.  Chiropractic.  No 'S'.  ChiropracticS sounds to me like fireworks, I'm not sure why.  And lest you doubt my expertise on such chiropractish vernacular, let me assure you that I've been chiropracting for almost ten years now.  I'm a chiropractician!

Feeling foolish for calling your chiropractor something unintentional?  Not to worry, no harm done, he's probably just honoured to have been called in the first place.  There are bigger problems in the world than this, right?  Like how to pronounce chiropody.

human v1.2

I'm fascinated by the human body. We are remarkable machines (most of us), at once so complex and so simple. Carbon-based bags of bones, made mostly of water, held together by tissues and guts. Simple! Able to simultaneously break down food into energy and poop, turn oxygen into carbon dioxide, jump and run and swim. We remember and learn and emote and evolve, and all the while, without even thinking about it, our hearts keep a-pumping, our livers keep living, and our brains do whatever they want. That said, there are a few design flaws I've found in human being version 1.0, and I propose the following modifications and updates when the next updates are released.

Appendix. It has been suggested that there is some immunity function from this vestigial colonic appendage. But it often becomes crudely clogged and then infected, necessitating its removal. I propose either redesigning the wee thing so that it doesn't block so easily (perhaps a flush valve?), placing it elsewhere in the body (a more sanitary locale?) or losing the worm shaped poop pouch all together.

Sinuses and eustachian tubes - the openings are too small, the tubes run almost horizontal, fluid can't drain and we are left with a warm, moist cavity = petri dish. Introduce bacteria (tube, meet streptococcus!), and you've got yourself an infection. And then my baby is up all night, screaming and crying. And then my ears hurt. Fix this.

The spine. I'm fond of this structure, it certainly keeps me occupied, but the current design is better suited for walking on all fours than for upright posture. Since the majority of my patients are evolved enough to walk erect, perhaps this is why the majority of my patients also have back pain?

Adult female pelvis. Babies' heads. Might I recommend better size matching?

Spinal discs. I have a personal grudge with the designer of discs. Particularly with whoever who selected the jelly-like substance in the middle. While well suited for shock absorption, add force on to this anatomical jelly donut and witness the innards squeeze out. Onto your sciatic nerve. Four days before your wedding. Love hurts, indeed.

I could go on. Like how about fixing things like inherently weak arches (70% of us have 'flat feet') and unaccommodating eye lenses so I don't have to accessorize with such sexy accoutrements as orthotics and eyeglasses? Then again, some gentlemen dig nerdy ladies. I don't judge.

I just think that after billions of years, we are due for some updates to the human hardware. Or software... or should that be firmware? Cut me some slack, I'm still using my Commodore 64. Let's get on these Sapien improvements. Isn't there an app for that?

Happy Holidayses!

The end of one year, the beginning of another. It's a bit romantic, no? The sense of renewal, out with the old, in with the new. A fresh start, a new year and a new decade. Huzzah!

And yet, it's all a bit silly. The ceremony, the hangovers, the resolutions. Isn't it just another day, a notch in time? Should auld acquaintance really be forgot, and never brought to mind? Besides, I have a major grammar-related new year pet peeve, and it persists well past January 1st. Gung Hay Fat Choy indeed.

"Happy New Years!"

Or perhaps you mean "Happy New Year's!", which is equally irksome.

The extraneous 's'. Never before has anyone been driven to madness by a single letter, apostrophe or not. But there you have it. I'm small like that. And though I try to focus on the intent behind the greeting, the well wishes for an enjoyable year, I'm cringing inside.

WHY IS THIS PLURALIZED?

Perhaps the capricious s's serve to proffer happiness for the current year and all other years to come? Maybe the well-wisher is being culturally sensitive, accounting for such new yearses (!) as the Chinese New Year (happy 4707 everyone!) and Rosh Hashanna (happy 5770 everyone!). The Scots have a solution to this conundrum. Happy Hogmanay, everyone!

I realize that it is of very little import, but this blending of "New Year's Eve" and "Happy New Year" just gets my goat. I've even done it myself, asking "what did you do for New Year's?" Beginning the year with a dangling something-or-other is as inauspicious a start as any. Maybe I should resolve to be less pedantic, more gracious in the face of a pleasant greeting, but there you have it.

Have a wonderful twenty-ten, and in case I don't get the chance to say it in the future, Happy New Years!

Quit your swining...

Hi! How are you? Are you going to get the H1N1 shot?

Lately, this is what passes for conversation. Never before have I used the words "shiraz" and "squalene" in the same sentence, but you asked what my weekend plans were...

Ah, vaccines. They kill us/save us, depending on who you ask. They are either the greatest example of medical advancement or proof of government conspiracy - pork barrel politics, if you will. I've heard the Illuminati are involved, but one can't be sure.

I have many conflicting emotions over this issue. I feel at once:

• concerned. I don't go looking for viruses just like I don't go looking for trouble. I avoid them like the plague! Sometimes, however, they find me, virus and trouble both. I'm concerned enough to keep hand sanitizer at the clinic front desk. I'm concerned enough that I wash my hands even more than normal, and then sometimes spray alcohol (rubbing, not schnapps) on them for good measure. I'm concerned enough that I've bookmarked this site, which tracks the number of deaths associated with H1N1 in Canada.

• skeptical. Did you click the link above? Uh...101? Out of 33,834,093 people? I am so sorry for each one of the victims and their families, but I wonder if we are exposed to more FEAR than virus?

• apathy. All the information and misinformation becomes jumbled in my brain, and then I remember that I do not currently have a flu, swine or not, and that to date, I don't think I've ever had a serious flu, of any combination of letters and numbers. I simply don't feel like I'm going to DIE from the FLU tomorrow, and so apathy sets in, and I admit I'm inclined to wait a bit, and see what happens.
  

• suspicion. Something's not kosher. Squalene in the vaccine... a few weeks of testing... deadly pandemic vs. mild flu variant... everyone either wants my money or my arm or my defiance.
  

• fear. I'm suddenly in the position of having to make a decision for another person. At 9 months old Oliver hasn't yet decided what he thinks of flus and vaccines and all things porcine. But he's awfully little, and I dislike the prospects of him facing such an intense virus and such an intense vaccine.

• phlegm. This isn't really an emotion per se, but Oliver and I have runny noses, and I'm loath to ask our bodies to fight an injected version of a virus (among other things) while we are currently fighting a virus. Give a body a break.

• ennui. Swine flu? H1N1 still? Isn't this soooo last spring? Can we get over this? Let's talk about something more current. Like the balloon boy.
  

• concern again. Sure, it's just a virus. But... it seems to be a fast virus. And an unpredictable virus. And a nasty virus. Fast, unpredictable and nasty, the kind a nice girl like me was told to stay away from.
  

So here we are. I'm still unsure of how my family will proceed, but we're formulating some plans. There are strong arguments on both sides of this issue, and I think in the long run we benefit by dispensing information and letting the individual decide what is best for themselves. Those who chose to vaccinate feel safe knowing that they are protected while contributing to 'herd immunity' (though the reference to 'herds' is a little touchy (incidentally, a herd of pigs is called a drove. Who knew?)). Those who decline the shot feel better about avoiding the less savoury vaccine ingredients (thimersol, squalene... yum!). We are all playing the numbers game, irrespective of which side we are on. And people aren't exactly dying in droves (catch that?).

Catch that?? The odds favour us, irrespective of what we do. Some people will have vaccine side effects. The vast majority will not. Some people will become seriously ill with H1N1. The vast majority will not.

The point is, we're going to be ok. Breathe. We. Are. Going. To. Be. OK. So make your decision using research and consideration and instinct, get on with your life, and quit swining about it!

Gratuitous Baby Update

I'm working on posts relevant to this blog. I haven't forgotten why I started writing. Stay tuned for things chiropracticish... soon!

In the meantime... Oliver!

Does this Manifesto make my butt look big?

I went shopping for yoga pants the other day, at a certain overpriced and unnamed yoga pants emporium. And printed on their shopping bag, was the company Manifesto. While I appreciate their use of Lycra and respect their dedication to athletics, I am perplexed by their Manifesto. For starters, why does a clothing store need a Manifesto? And why does making fabulous pants that mold my rear in ways that yoga promised to but has not, make one an expert on life in general? Please understand, I need these pants, I LOVE these pants, among my wardrobe, these yoga pants shoulder stand alone. They are suitable for work and for work-out, and worth every one of the $10,000 pennies they cost. I'm sure the yoginis on the mountain tops will agree that they've, like, totally changed the sport of yoga, for sure.

But a Manifesto... really?

Quit playing philosopher. Nietzsche you ain't. Witness the following gems of wisdom I received, when all I wanted were well-fitting pants...:

"Breathe deeply and appreciate the moment. Living in the moment could be the meaning of life." Could be? A bit under-convincing, no? Hell, the pursuit of the perfect pair of comfortable but cute sandals could be the meaning of life. A manifesto should be definitive! I need answers!

"stress is related to 99% of all illness" While I don't doubt that stress negatively impacts the immune system and makes us vulnerable to illness, this is so obviously contrived. Besides, people can come up with statistics to prove anything. 14% of people know that.

"the pursuit of happiness is the source of all unhappiness" Seeking joy is the source of misery? How depressing.

"Take various vitamins. You never know what small mineral can eliminate the bottleneck to everlasting health" Now really. Various vitamins? This is not a prescription for health. For starters, the prevailing concept of 'vitamins are good, so more vitamins must be better' is false. In fact, some vitamins negatively interact with certain conditions or medications. Also, vitamins in synthetic form are not the same as their natural counterparts. In vivo (fancy for 'in the living') vitamins interact with each other and cofactors and other stuff that I should have paid more attention to in biochemistry, whereas in pill form... well, it is processed by definition, hence, inferior. I believe in using vitamins as medicine - when needed and as needed. This careless advice is foolish, and if your health is so 'bottlenecked', then perhaps you need more than 'one small mineral' to lead you to 'everlasting health'. Bollocks.

"Don’t trust that an old age pension will be sufficient" - you are an accountant too? What can't you do?

"Children are the orgasm of life. Just like you did not know what an orgasm was before you had one, nature does not let you know how great children are until you have them". What? *blush*. I... I just wanted yoga pants?! Orgasm? I... uh... do you have these pants in a size orgasm i mean size 6? Does the person who wrote this have kids? Because I vow to never, EVER, refer to my child that way. I just... oh my.

"Communication is COMPLICATED. We are all raised in a different family with slightly different definitions of every word. An agreement is an agreement only if each party knows the conditions for satisfaction and a time is set for satisfaction to occur." Well. My brain officially hurts. I don't think we each have different definitions for every word, that certainly would make communication as COMPLICATED as they find it, since words would cease to have meaning, and THAT'S WHAT DICTIONARIES ARE FOR YOU CAN'T JUST DEFINE WORDS HOWEVER YOU WANT, EVEN IF YOU'VE STRETCHED THE DEFINITION OF YOGA PANTS TO MEAN SEMI-FORMAL WEAR. Hence, I disagree with your manifesto and don't anticipate being satisfied at any time in the future.

An eco-friendly shopping bag is a powerful thing - it carries purchases and the meaning of life and lets me save the earth by shopping. But few, if any, of history's great manifestos were printed on a shopping bag, and this one... I'm not buying.

All In The Family

When I was pregnant, people warned me that when the baby comes, all other things fall by the wayside. Not for me, I insisted... I'm a multitasker extraordinaire. In fact, right now as I compose this blog, I'm concurrently typing, getting a head start on my 2009 taxes, baking a souffle and sanding the floors. Puh-lease, a little tiny baby should present no problem.

And yet, here we are, over a fortnight since my last post. My readers must be outraged. But trust that I've been racking my sleep-deprived brain for chiropractic and health-related blog topics all the while. Knee injuries? The effects of foot pronation on low back pain? Natural headache remedies? All fascinating, to be sure, but not as captivating as my TINY ADORABLE BABY!

To hell with lumbago, my baby is taking his first bath!

Who cares about proper sleep positions... my baby sleeps swaddled up tight!

Sure, I can treat your foot pain... but check out my baby's tiny foot!!

So you see the problem. But presently he sleeps, and here I blog. In the spirit of this weekend's holidays honouring St. Valentine and his family, please allow me this bit of cyberspace to 'kvell'. For I have recently gone from being part of a couple to part of a family, and I am deeply, severely, completely, in love.

So enjoy this long weekend, spend time with people you love and with your family (if you are lucky, there will be some overlap there), and forgive me for being slightly baby obsessed for now. I blame it on the oxytocin coursing through my veins.

But can you blame me?

Eviction Notice

Dear Baby;

The fat lady has sung (laaaa!). It is time... get out!

Your lease is up. I assumed it was understood that the current domestic arrangements were temporary, a place for you to stay until you could make it on your own in the outside world.

I also feel that you are too attached to me. Let's try some time and space apart - just a little bit! You'll be fine. Please vacate the premises ASAP.

You've generally been a great tenant, though at times I questioned the hours you keep, and apparently you are a cast member of Riverdance. We can talk about these things on the outside though, after you are born! (and can you get me tickets?)

Frankly you've outgrown your current space, you've run out of womb. The superintendent (your father) and I feel that you should expand your horizons. It is time, baby, to explore the world.

I look forward to meeting with you in person - I'm so excited, I'm literally bursting at the seams!

Respectfully and with love,
Your mother.

A Great Miracle Happened Where?

I've been told that my baby-to-be is a miracle.

People stare in awe at my bump, and declare it miraculous. And though the fact that there are garments generous enough to cover my circumference is somewhat awesome, it has more to do with the extraordinary properties of lycra than any metaphysical occurrence. The word miracle gets thrown around a lot, and while I'm blown away that a HUMAN BEING IS GROWING INSIDE OF ME and privileged to be its host, with 4 births occuring every second around the world, you'd think we'd stop being impressed by the event.

A miracle is defined as an extraordinary event in the physical world that surpasses all known human or natural powers and is ascribed to a supernatural cause. A wonder, a marvel. The spiritualist in me agrees that this life being created is indeed a wonder, whose existence is the result of a love between two people, the whim of a higher being, and elements that we cannot understand like fate and chance. The scientist in me rolls her eyes, and says that specialized cells meet under favourable conditions, and approximately 40 gestational weeks later, baby is born. The scientist then goes on to ask, sarcastically, if something that can be created just as well by a pair of randy 16-year-olds can ever be called miraculous. She then gets kicked in the ribs by her very own miracle.

But 'tis the season, and there is a lot of talk about miracles, what with immaculate conceptions and oil lasting a week longer than expected, and it just has me thinking, 'tis all. I've decided that this is something of a miracle, but in the same way that a tree is a miracle; an everyday, beautiful, boring, miracle.

So whether you are spending this holiday season contemplating the arrival of a baby, thinking about people with big round bellies, lighting candles and eating deep-fried potatoes, or just spending time with friends and family, I hope it is a nice one for you. (I'll be doing all of the above!)

Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah, and Happy Festivus (for the rest of us!)!

Baby Brain

I've been trying to get a blog post up for the last week.  I've got many started, covering fascinating and sure-to-be popular topics such as: 'Anatomically Relevant Idioms!', and 'Hip Hip Hooray... not.  When Hip Pain Strikes', and the much anticipated 'Mind Over Uterus: Using Hypnosis to Manage Childbirth'.  Of course these are all working titles only, but I'm sure I've whetted your literary and chiropractic appetites.  

The problem?  I can't finish a damn thing.  This is not writer's block - I've got plenty to say!  I just can't find the words.  I'm... a little slow lately.  With words.  And stuff. Like on any given day I usually have at least one article of clothing on backwards.  Fortunately (or not, as it were) it is usually a garment not visible to the public.  I recently washed the television remote control along with the duvet cover, not noticing until halfway through the dry cycle (45 minutes of CLUNK CLUNK CLUNK didn't tip me off!).  I know I've done other dimwitted things, but they've seemed to have slipped my mind.  My sieve-like mind.  

It took me a while to catch on.  Perhaps I needed more sleep?  A case of premature senility? Maybe too much zinc in my diet... or would that be not enough?  Why was I so obtuse (thank you thesaurus.com)?  

Baby Brain.  

To be perfectly frank, I had always doubted the veracity (is that the right word?) of this condition.  I felt it was an excuse that the, let's be honest here, more simple moms-to-be used to make up for their... uh... shortcomings.  Surely a braniac like myself would only thrive during pregnancy.  I'd spend the 9 months reading up on child-rearing philosophies while mastering sign language to teach to my genetically gifted infant, and maybe finish that book on Jung that I'd started.  

Well.  Mea Culpa (does that make sense?  Latin is not a strong subject right now either...).  My bad.  Apparently, you're with stupid.  I've got a bad case of baby brain.  My blood stream has been rerouted to the womb.  

So, loyal readers, forgive me if there is greater space between posts, for there seems to be greater space between my ears.  I've got a bunch of really, really good stuff started... but these days the only thing I seem to be able to finish is a meal.

Weekend!

I'm sure you all have plans to exercise, stretch and eat healthful, homemade, organic meals all weekend... but take a break this Sunday night!

The fabulous Gavin Creel will be performing at the Diesel Playhouse on Sunday October 26th, at 8:00 PM. Robbie Roth, one of my favourite composer and husbands, will be accompanying him. The Tony Nominated Creel, who has starred in the Broadway production of Thoroughly Modern Millie and played the part of Bert in London's West End production of Mary Poppins, will be performing original material, familiar covers and Broadway tunes! If you've never seen him perform you'll be blown away... he is as charming as he is talented.

So... like this blog, take a break from being all Chiropractic and healthy, and come out for a great evening. Get your tickets now!

Hope to see you all there.

...summer vacation, part final: roaming in rome.

... so we arrived in Rome. They say that Rome wasn't built in a day, but I say they just weren't trying hard enough. "pfft..." I spat, "I'll prove 'em wrong and do it in half a day!" First stop, the Flavian Amphitheatre, known these days as the Colosseum (I also shop at Towne and Country mall, it will never be Centerpoint to me...). I was excited to be standing in the midst of such history - the movie Gladiator was filmed right here! It truly makes you reflect on your existence at this time and place in the universe. I was also fortunate enough to spot a real, live Roman gladiator - smoking. How anachronistic! Maybe this is why the Roman Empire was wiped out?

After the Colosseum, which frankly could use some maintenance and repair, we trekked to the Trevi Fountain. I love this site, mostly because of the fountains at which you can refill your water bottle and rinse your hands and feet of the roman grime they've acquired. Ancient cities and heat don't exactly go well together... we nearly melted. For some respite from the heat we patronized and were patronized at a cafe near the Trevi Fountain. As you can imagine, visiting a restaurant near a major tourist attraction is always an economical choice, and we thoroughly enjoyed the $20 glass of beer and bottle of water. Mamma mia!

After conferring with my accountant it became obvious it was time to leave Italy. And so ended my European vacation. Funny how this trip once seemed eons away, yet the two week trip itself felt equally as long. I'm returned to Toronto more brown, more cultured (I now only eat gelato, not ice cream) and in need of an adjustment!

Arrivederci!

How I Spent My Summer Vacation

Part One: first class and no class

My travels started out on a high note - a fortunate series of events led me to the front of the plane, to the previously elusive and exclusive executive class seating. Though I am not an executive, it turns out that by merely giving the airline a significant amount of money, all of your and your husband's air miles, your most convincing pouty face followed by your winningest smile, well you too can be seated (or laid down, as it were) in the front of the plane! Actually, I spent most of the time as horizontal as possible - and this was possible, given the fabulous contraption that is the pod. I can only hope that as much engineering detail was put into the engine. Suffice it to say that I have had a taste of the good life - comfortable seats, great food and service, clean facilities... I was likely the only one disappointed when the pilot announced that due to a tail wind we would arrive in London 45 minutes early. I wanted to get my money's worth... and after security pried me kicking and screaming from my pod, I truly felt that I had.

The euphoria was short-lived when I disembarked the plane and then embarked a train, albeit as a regular passenger, en route to Plymouth. This turned out to be a perfectly lovely-ish town, site of the world premiere of Flashdance the Musical!

I'm torn here. I want to sum up the show for you, to tell you about the jaw-dropping choreography, the iconic scenes from the movie come to life, the moving performances (I laughed! I cried!), the unbelievable score... but this blog pretends to have something to do with chiropractic, so I'll talk about how this humble chiropractor saved the show.

A few hours before opening night, one of the actors hurt his neck during a run through. I happened to be sitting in the theatre and overheard a debate over what to do (ice!! when in doubt, put ICE on a fresh injury!!) - and I couldn't help but offer my services (is there a chiropractor in the house?). The actor had pinched a joint in his neck, an injury I see all the time in my patients. The only difference is that when you come in unable to move your head, you aren't usually due to be breakdancing on stage in 3 hours. We massaged and iced and gently moved the joint, and the show went on... as it must, I suppose. You couldn't tell he was sore at all, and I like to think this had as much to do with him being a great actor as me being a great chiropractor. Do they give a Tony for best adjustment in a musical? Flashdance was a huge success, and I was honoured to make my small contribution to this amazing production.

Soon it was time to leave Plymouth, to race to Stansted Airport to discover the haluciousness that is Ryan.air (I'm sensing that 'halucious' isn't technically a word... but trust me, it is the only one that accurately describes Ryan.air). Discount prices but a charge for every little thing (luggage $64, check in $16, bringing along a guitar $100, life jacket $45...), pandemonium at the check-in counter, no seating assignments, advertisements on the overhead luggage compartment, lotto ticket sales during the flight, sexy pictures of the airline attendants in the Ryan.air magazine, tiny seats cramped together, all taking place amid a sickly yellow and orange colour scheme! Halucious! But we made it alive and on time (the timely arrival is celebrated by a gaudy horn arrangement over the loudspeaker... 'do do doo doooo doo do! Another Ryanair flight has landed on time!' I was more amazed that we landed at all...) in Rome!

Thus began my week long gelato diet...

Take your passion... and make it happen!!

Nearly a month ago I pulled into Heathrow Airport, but there I go again. Really it is the exceptional value of the pound drawring [sic] me to England - 1 for 2 on everything you buy! But you can't control where duty sends you, and I've got business to attend to in Plymouth, an English seaside town mostly destroyed in the war. My sources tell me the locals enjoy drinking, brawling, and 80s music.


While in Plymouth I will be attending the world premiere of Flashdance the Musical! I know my jocular voice makes it hard to know when I'm being silly or serious, but there is nothing funny about the 80s. Welder by day, dancer by night... a theatrical piece examining the desire, nay the need to dance juxtaposed against the turning economy of Pittsburgh in the 80s... all choreographed and on stage to enjoy. I've got a 'thing' for the composer and I've never been more excited to see anything in my life. It is best captured in the grammatically horrifying yet strangely evocative and satisfying sentence, "Bein's Believin'", people. I've got rhythm now.

After Flashdance, it is off to... an undisclosed location. The composer I will be escorting does not know where we are going, and it is better that way. I can only say that we will be taking planes, trains, automobiles and ferries, and maybe even a scooter, if I'm lucky.

As usual in my absence Dr. Bain will be treating my patients, and as usual you are in excellent hands. Otherwise I'll be back after the August long weekend - leaving my crazy European escapades behind and getting back to normal life and business as usual.

Goodbye for now!

Hump Day

Patients often ask me what I do on Wednesdays. They are really curious - "you don't work on Wednesdays? What do you DO all day?" This makes me laugh - why, more chiropractic-y things, of course! Tuesday nights after work I read chiropractic journals before bed (I put a heat pack on and go to sleep on a chiropractic table!), and wake up super early to spend the day adjusting friends and family! Of course sometimes I go really crazy and attend a chiropractic seminar, or spend a lazy day reading old chiropractic text books...

What did you think? What do YOU all do when you are not in my office?

Here's the truth: a day-off in the life of a chiropractor (today!).
Sleep in! Three days a week I see patients at 7:30 AM (I know, some of you didn't KNOW there was an AM version of 7:30...), so I enjoy this. Then it is off to work-out - check out previous posts if you haven't seen the videos. My sister-in-law has been joining me and it is a blast to watch a newbie discover the joys of hitting things. My rushed breakfast of a half-avocado and organic spelt ginger snaps (uh, maybe we need a post on nutrition soon?) leaves me hungry... so I grab a seat on a patio and enjoy a rye bagel and lox - YUM. I do some banking and consider closing a safe deposit box (help. Is it SAFETY deposit box, or SAFE deposit box? The latter seems to make more grammatical sense, right?). I decide to keep the safe(ty) deposit box for now, you know, in case I need to store large sums of foreign currency or passports. (I just watched the Bourne Identity, indulge me.) Off to the health food store for some brown rice and other healthy stuff, but I'm interrupted by a phone call regarding a somewhat urgent, non-chiropractic matter (all will be fine, but let's just say that if I had a fan, uh, some stuff would have hit it). Head home, do some bills and paperwork, deal with an electrician and a painter, get annoyed with bills and paperwork, head to Cost.co.

This warrants its own paragraph. I love Cost.co - massive quantities of everything you may or may not need, in one convenient warehouse! Here I purchase clinic necessities - toilet paper, paper towels, computer paper... when you come for your treatment, you sort of assume these sundries will be here, and hey - do you you think paper goods just grow on trees? No, your chiropractor spends her day off at Cost.co hunting and foraging the aisles for you. Somewhere near the food section I grow dangerously dehydrated, and pray to the Cost.co gods for a sample lady dispensing tiny cups of lemonade. Instead she offers tortilla chips and salsa, and in my dehydrated state I ration that 'salsa is wet'... tip for my readers, salsa is not a thirst quencher. On Wednesdays I evidently leave my brain at the office. And yes, I remember to stock up on Werthers. My dear, dear patients, you are obsessed with the Werthers jar, don't think I haven't noticed. Many a RHCC meeting has addressed these delicious caramel treats, since they consume 78% of our operating budget and are not exactly healthy - and yet I don't dare remove them, seeing as how you panic when the jar approaches half-empty (or half-full - ha!). So I pick up the 25 bag weekly supply of Werthers. And for myself? A school of salmon, a few buckets of dijon mustard and wheel of cheese. You asked! One other thing I noticed at Cost.co - do they sell babies there? I couldn't find the display, but every other cart had a baby in it, and I figured I may as well pick one up if the price was right... but then realized that being Cost.co, they would probably come in packs of 8, and my storage space is full of jars of dijon mustard and toilet paper.

Then with little day of my day off left, I head home to water the garden and mentally write this post. I catch up on some emails, deal with the bills I had abandoned and attempt to make a healthy dinner. Spend a few more hours alternately cleaning around the house, debating watching a movie and surfing the internet... and here we are.

Are you sorry you asked what I do? Did you imagine the free time of a chiropractor to be more exciting?

Or... maybe this is all a ruse to distract you, and beneath my mild mannered appearance I'm really a former assassin running from the government (think about it, I am referred to by more than one surname, I head to Europe quite frequently lately, and my martial arts training has made me a formidable foe... sorry, that movie really was great!). Or perhaps on Wednesdays I shed my business casual attire for a size small (fine, medium depending on the cut) superhero suit, solving mysteries in the Forest Hill area. Since I'm quite the raconteur, maybe I just sit at home and write adventure/romance novels under my nom de plume, Daisy Yohang.

Or maybe I'll just keep you guessing!

What do YOU do when you are not at the clinic?

How to protect your low back/sanity when stuffed into a coach seat

Is it just me, or is travel becoming more undignified these days? Sky-high prices, mile-long lines, practically disrobing to pass through security, only to be stuffed, sardine-like, into tiny little seats for hours on end. Your surly attendant offers you a gastronomical Sophie's choice - gelatinous chicken, or fish pie? FISH. PIE. Two words never meant to be uttered together.

These days I fly on points, and a wing and a prayer. Yet I some how still ending up paying exorbitant fees in addition to surrendering all my points, and pray not just to arrive alive, but to be seated next to someone compact, quiet and... how does one say this delicately? Hygienic.

Travel is risky, people... you've got to look out for yourself and play the game right. But fear not, itinerant patients and friends, I've been there, done that, and lived to tell the tale and pass on the tips to you, so that I can write off my flight expenses.

First, choose your seats wisely. How? Aah... Truthfully, I am reluctant to share this secret, lest we are on the same flight and you score the better seat at my expense. But as a doctor I am obliged to help... so let this this be a testament to just how much I care. I use a site called 'seat guru' to look up the best seats - each is rated for comfort, proximity to the lavatories, leg room etc. I log on early and select strategically - in this case I chose a lovely second row coach seat with no seat in front of me. Now, I'm not a tall person by nature, but the extra room made all the difference. I could visit the facilities without disrupting my neighbours, I did not have the displeasure of a seat in front of me resting in my lap for 6 hours, and I was able to stretch as needed, see below. On the return flight I was less fortunate, crammed in a regular aisle seat with the common folk, having walked past empty first class pods that taunted me, making me wish I was really, really rich, or a pea.

B) Stretching is important to prevent stiffness from settling in, as well as to prevent deep vein thombosis (DVT - things are always much more ominous when known by an abbreviation). The dangers of DVT (blood clots developing usually in the legs) have been documented, and although this is more prevalent in certain populations, for example the elderly, people with blood clotting disorders or those who have had recent surgery, a few simple exercises can help reduce the risk. The important thing is to keep the blood moving - get up and walk around periodically, and flex and contract the calf muscles to pump the blood up from the lower legs. Just please, when doing so, try to avoid kicking the seat in front of you, especially when I'm in front of you. Yeah, I'm talking to you, 49C.

My favorite glute/lower back stretch is the figure four position: an ankle on the opposite knee, bend forward at the hips without rounding the low back. To stretch the neck, simple range of motion exercises will do (ear side to side, look over each shoulder, chin down, and then chin down to each side...), as well as shoulder shrugs. I suppose I'll have to upload some pictures. Give me some time, I'm still jet lagged. Check back here.

Or you could be like the contortionist I saw, doing the splits and what appeared to be a full yoga routine in the narrow space behind the last row of seats and the flight attendants' lounge (you know, the space with all the mysterious metal cabinets... where they prepare the fish pie!).

Finally, entertainment. This is the one area where airlines have improved dramatically. I suppose it is in keeping with the general decline of Americans' expectations and attention spans -"you can't just feed us crap, treat us poorly, cram us in and expect us to pay for for it... this is unaccept- hey, there's a TV screen 4 inches from my face! Sweet!" I don't generally watch much television, and I'm definitely dumber for having flown this trip, witness my viewing schedule:

• I Am Legend (New York destroyed, featuring scary monster things. Actually loved this, was kept on the edge of my seat, made only possible by the extra leg room afforded to me)
• p.s. I Love You (warning, if your emotions are running high for any reason, or if you are not a robot, you will cry. As in tears pouring down your face, sobbing hysterically, making people around you uneasy... please watch this film)
  
• Cloverfield (New York destroyed, featuring scary monster things. I Am Legend without Will Smith)
• The Savages (what the? I normally love Philip Seymour Hoffman, but this was booooring, I turned it off).
  

• Then came TV, 'cause at this point I was too dumb to read... Arrested Development (Bob Loblaw... ha!), Flight of the Conchords (have you seen this yet? Brilliant!) and The Simpsons, an episode centered oddly enough around flying.
  

To reiterate, I don't watch much television any more, but I'm not so fancy that I can't appreciate a good Simpsons episode now and again. And I think Homer Simpson summed up the coach experience perfectly: when asked if there was any difference between flying in a private plane (or in this case, those fancy pods up front) and coach, he exclaims "are you kidding? It's the difference between champagne and carbonated pee."

Next time, I want champagne.

Reading a book in a Roman Bath

So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen...

Good-bye!
Or rather, à bientôt!

I'm off for a jolly holiday. I shan't say where I'll be, except that they talk funny there, and I'm packing light.

I'd like to say that I'll be off studying brand new chiropractic techniques, learning the latest advancements in chiropractic technology... actually, what I'd really like to say is that I'll be sitting on a beach in Greece being hand-fed grapes by my very own Adonis. So let's just say that reality lies somewhere in the middle, between scholarly and sybaritic. I'll read a book in a Roman bath.

Assuming the locals have tapped into an electrical source and discovered the internets, I will do my best to update while I am gone, on things chiropractic and not. Possible topics include:

• Is the sound of a spine 'cracking' different in a foreign language?
• How to protect your low back when stuffed into an economy seat.
  
• How to protect your sanity when stuffed into an economy seat.
  
• Chiropractic abroad - different than chiropractic a-man?
  

I'll return after the long weekend, until then, Dr. Bain will be taking care of my patients. If you need to see him in my absence, rest assured you will be in good hands.

I wish everyone a safe and enjoyable long weekend!

Adieu, to yieu and yieu and yieu...

My bad...

When my husband pointed out a grammatical error in my last post, my first thought was "that's unpossible". But, as usual, he was correct.

He is the kind of guy who within seconds of picking up a menu says, "I found two typos. They spelled zucchini wrong and put an extra g in the vegetable curry". I, on the other hand, am the kind of gal who within seconds of picking up a menu says, "do you want to share the sweet potato fries" and "why is our food taking so long to come!".

So I will correct and admit my transgression: using affect where effect should have been. Does this warrant a written, public apology? Could I not have just subtly fixed the error and moved on?

No.

See, mistakes like these DRIVE ME NUTS. They represent laziness, carelessness, sloppiness, all the worst 'nesses. I worry about the next generation who consider texting to be sophisticated communication, & imho R lol-ing there way to inanity. We need to care about these things! If you made an error, like a typo, or (gasp!) misusing then and than, I would likely notice. I'd try not to judge you (hey, it happens to the best of us, see: affect/effect), but I'd notice.

So if you spot a mistake here, feel free to let me know. Gently, please.

We can all stand to be corrected now and then!