If it quacks like a duck

I would like to retract my previous post in which I lamented the awkwardness of a massage, as today I had an experience 10 times more bizarre – a chiropractor.

I’m still not entirely sure what happened during my 1 hour visit, but I do know that at one point he attached a machine that quacks like a duck to my ass. I repeat – I had a machine touching my buttocks (clothed, fortunately), and that machine quacked like a duck. The guy also had a stuffed gorilla in his office, a couple posters of lizards on the walls, and perhaps most alarming of all – he was wearing dark socks under a pair of Teva sandals. WHERE DO I REPORT THESE CRIMES?

I want to believe in alternative forms of medicine. I do. But this guy stretched just a tad too far beyond my comfort zone. I went to him in the event he could help with my headaches, and because he was recommended to me by a friend who is extremely intelligent and trustworthy. He practices ‘gentle low force’ techniques so I wasn’t as paranoid that he would crack my neck in two.

I have never been to a chiropractor before, but do they all use tools that look like they were made in an 8th grade shop class? Weird little hammers, laser lights, spring-loaded thingamajobbies. Not to mention the ass quacker. I even let him give me some homeopathic droplets of something, which in hindsight might’ve been a rufi because I was in a wicked haze for a couple hours afterward. I’m just glad I made it out alive.

I’m still processing the whole experience, but I don’t think I’ll go back. Unless of course my headaches never return, and then QUACK QUACK.

This old gal shall rise again. Maybe.

I started this post yesterday, and it had a very different tone. But today, for the first time in two weeks, I woke up without a headache. HALLELUJAH LET THE SUN SHINE IN. I won’t bore you with the details, but the aforementioned headache was the plague of my holiday season. It lasted all day, every day, and resulted in a trip to the ER, a CT scan, many Vicodin, a shot in the butt with mega ibuprofen, and prescription muscle relaxers. Nothing really worked completely, so I’ve just been living each day trying not to OD.

Part of my anxiety about this headache stemmed from the fact that I had a similar headache four years ago, which turned out to be the result of an arterial dissection in my neck. In case you’re not familiar, which I wasn’t, a dissection is basically a tear in your artery which can lead to a stroke or worse. It sucks and I don’t recommend it.

Fortunately this time around the CT scan did not show a dissection, but unfortunately none of my drugs were alleviating the pain for long. So I have been a grumpy cat (ME-OW) for the past two weeks, assuming I was on the verge of death (I blame WebMD and Google for this part).

Then last night I let a strange man caress my body in the form of a professional massage. I’m not a huge fan of strangers touching my nekkid skin, plus I think a neck massage caused my last dissection – so I tend to steer clear. But I was desperate and I knew my back and shoulders were a mess.

Turns out Mr. Wonderful might’ve had the midas touch. It felt great and I was only mildly uncomfortable with his groping hands rubbing me down. Seriously – aren’t massages kind of awkward, or is that just me? What if you get gassy on the table? Or what if your masseuse notices that you are wearing maternity underwear, even though you haven’t been pregnant for more than 2 years? All hypothetical, of course.

Anyhoo, today is a new day and, knock on wood, Mama might be back in business. Just in time, because tomorrow I turn 39 and I do not want that headache to stain the final year of what has otherwise been a pretty fabulous decade. I’d like to finish strong before it all comes crashing down when I turn 40.

One thing is for sure – if this headache is in fact gone, I will be paying strange men to touch me A LOT this year. And in the interest of continued pampering for my aging self, I got a facial tonight, and on Friday I will indulge in the Grand Poobah – A Haircut. Nothing like a good trim to put the spring back in my step. Bring it, 39. On second thought, don’t bring it. Just sit there and be uneventful and let me do all the bringing.

*Update: my headache returned after I wrote this post, but I still reserve the right to pay strange men to touch me this year.