My chiropractor made a small suggestion that a walk in the forest could help, and I discarded it because I was already “walking in the forest” a lot. Except I kept to the well-trodden paths. And I walked on asphalt to get to the forest. And it didnt really help. And the exercises he told me to do at home didnt really do much.
My current guy is all about not wanting to see me, and wishes for my continued success in doing so. When I do drop by, and I’m active, it’s a checkup and a “keep doing that and now fuck off for 3 months” as part of long-term care for a life-altering slip-n-fall 30 years ago.
In fact, I’ve had like 6 chiros in my time, as we tend to move about a lot, and while their diagnostic gear changes from place to place, the hallmark of a good chiro is “do these exercises, stay mobile, and come back if you feel you need to; but I’ll be happy if we only talk once a season”.
When you first need a chiro, see two. Drop the one that seems to be too mercenary or woo-woo-crystals-magic.
If you’re rough on your body, they can be an absolute godsend.
I’m at the point where I can’t always get my skeleton to go back to where it ought to be, and a good chiro can find exactly which bones aren’t.
Last one I went to was during a bicycle tour. The campsite wasn’t ideal, and I awoke not being able to look left. Like at all. Turn to the right, ow that hurts, try to turn left, head stops straight forward, sharp spike of pain and no further movement.
Well whatever. Break camp, mount up, ride a couple miles. Now I’m warm and loose, right? Do some stretches. Go through as much of the routine as I can, get some pops and creaks, but still can’t turn my fucking head. Slightly better.
Pedaling like this is a fucking bastard, because it’s not just my neck, I’m all fucked up, but the road lies ahead and we go.
Get into town some hours later, have some lunch, a couple beers, still can’t move for shit, see a sign for a chiro. Guy does walk-ins, thank god. Gets what we’re doing, says ‘well, I’m never gonna see you again, so I’ll do the best I can in one go’
I think that motherfucker popped every goddamn vertebrae in the whole spine, and some of em twice.
Felt like a new man. Finally felt those beers. Rest of the tour went fine
Im no physician, I dont know.
My chiropractor made a small suggestion that a walk in the forest could help, and I discarded it because I was already “walking in the forest” a lot. Except I kept to the well-trodden paths. And I walked on asphalt to get to the forest. And it didnt really help. And the exercises he told me to do at home didnt really do much.
Probably was from getting away from the chiropractor, ngl
American chiros are weird.
My current guy is all about not wanting to see me, and wishes for my continued success in doing so. When I do drop by, and I’m active, it’s a checkup and a “keep doing that and now fuck off for 3 months” as part of long-term care for a life-altering slip-n-fall 30 years ago.
In fact, I’ve had like 6 chiros in my time, as we tend to move about a lot, and while their diagnostic gear changes from place to place, the hallmark of a good chiro is “do these exercises, stay mobile, and come back if you feel you need to; but I’ll be happy if we only talk once a season”.
When you first need a chiro, see two. Drop the one that seems to be too mercenary or woo-woo-crystals-magic.
Or see a physiotherapist instead.
Don’t let a couple kooks spook you.
If you’re rough on your body, they can be an absolute godsend.
I’m at the point where I can’t always get my skeleton to go back to where it ought to be, and a good chiro can find exactly which bones aren’t.
Last one I went to was during a bicycle tour. The campsite wasn’t ideal, and I awoke not being able to look left. Like at all. Turn to the right, ow that hurts, try to turn left, head stops straight forward, sharp spike of pain and no further movement.
Well whatever. Break camp, mount up, ride a couple miles. Now I’m warm and loose, right? Do some stretches. Go through as much of the routine as I can, get some pops and creaks, but still can’t turn my fucking head. Slightly better.
Pedaling like this is a fucking bastard, because it’s not just my neck, I’m all fucked up, but the road lies ahead and we go.
Get into town some hours later, have some lunch, a couple beers, still can’t move for shit, see a sign for a chiro. Guy does walk-ins, thank god. Gets what we’re doing, says ‘well, I’m never gonna see you again, so I’ll do the best I can in one go’
I think that motherfucker popped every goddamn vertebrae in the whole spine, and some of em twice.
Felt like a new man. Finally felt those beers. Rest of the tour went fine
My man, you need a better bed. I get this whenever I sleep on a shit bed somewhere.
If you’re camping take a cot
When I’m camping I take a memory foam mattress topped with a sheepskin.
Which is what we were sleeping on during that story.
Which is approximately 10,000% more comfortable than any cot I’ve ever used