Perpetual Smile

On Wednesday, when I went to see my chiropractor, I asked him if I should be feeling better by now.

“Well, don’t you?” He stood leaning against the stand-up desk built into the wall of the small room. He flipped through my file. “You had back pain, neck pain, and pain in your arms, but now your back and neck are better, right?”

“My back and my neck, yeah, but it’s my arms. I don’t really care about my neck and back.”

He looked at me for a long moment. “I don’t want to be the one to throw in the towel, but if you’re not feeling any difference there’s really no point in you coming.”

I felt my world crashing down. “Are there any medications I can take?”

“Well, since your symptoms are so sporadic and you don’t have just one target area, it’s kind of hard to prescribe something.”

I nodded. “But you definitely think it’s thoracic outlet syndrome, right?”

He shook his head. “That’s the closest diagnosis I can come to, but here again, your symptoms are so sporadic. Thoracic outlet patients don’t usually have bilateral symptoms, either. Thoracic outlet syndrome patients usually respond really well to this, too.” He paused and looked at me thoughtfully. “I don’t even know where to send you, because you’ve already been through the mill.”

“Yeah,” I squeaked.

“I can suggest acupuncture. Let me go get you a card. You put yourself back together.” He closed the door and I stood there, in sweats and a gown.

“Fuck,” I said, and tore off the gown. I yanked my shirt and coat on and went into the hall.

“Here’s the card,” Dr. Rosa said. “Dr. Zhong does acupuncture.”

“Really?” My voice felt flat. Dr. Zhong stood there and smiled at me sympathetically. I wondered if she could do the acupuncture, but the name on the card was someone else’s, in another town. “Well, thanks,” I said.

“Keep doing the exercises, see if you notice a pattern, and give me a call in two weeks and let me know how you’re doing.” He smiled at me, and I tried to smile back.

I paid my co-pay and the girl behind the counter asked if I would be coming back next week. “No,” I said. We exchanged Happy Thanksgiving’s and I left.

I have to give him credit, for not stringing me along and continuing to take my money even though it wasn’t working. And he does seem to genuinely care. I’m still fucked, though.

I’m still back to square one.