as irony would have it

Friday, I went to a chiropractor for the first time in my life. I've been hearing about them as a recommendation since I was diagnosed with Degenerative Disk Disease six years ago.

I've been against the idea from day one.

Winters are bad for me. The cold is bad for me. Yeah, I get all that. However, I live in New York and have to stay here for a few more years, so - I don't need the reminder.

This winter has been especially bad. Rainy and cold and, well, it's just sucked - to use a technical term.

Grant makes me an appointment and gives me a half hour notice because it bothers him to see me not be able to stand up straight without wanting to gouge my own spine out with a knitting needle.

Fine, I'll go.
If for nothing else, to say that I gave it a shot.

There's something severely wrong with my sense of humor because when I got to form three of the stack of papers I had to fill out, I started laughing and reading it out loud in the lobby.

"You won't hold us responsible if we break your rib or bust open a few organs"

Okay, that's not exactly what it said, but it did mention that they were not going to be responsible if they broke something you may want to be able to use later in life.

For some moronic reason, this just struck me as funny.

"what seems to be the problem"
"oh, I don't know...standing in the upright position?"

"what happened?"
"this is the part that sucks, I don't even have a good story. It just happens"

AT LEAST GIVE ME A GOOD STORY TO TELL, RIGHT?
Nada.

I did the series of tests and the interview and then laid on a table while I got basically electrocuted for ten minutes.

The guy was very nice and very personable and told me we'd have fun together.

...fun
WHO IS HAVING FUN?!

Anyway, he manipulated something. Tried to crack something. Gave me an ice pack and sent me on my way with the issued command that he wanted to see me back there on Monday.

Fine.
And that he wanted to see me a few more times after that.
Are we dating now?

I actually did what I was suppose to do. Went home, used the ice pack. Didn't act like a maniac. Mostly because I couldn't, the discomfort was too immense to.

I somehow made the mistake of MOVING.
BAD IDEA.

Six hours later, ride to the hospital.

I'm female. We tend to be able to handle pain rather well. My eyes swelled up with tears and Grant was looking for my shoes.

I got an, "I know your level of pain tolerence. If you cry, we're going to the hospital"

So, of course, this was a three hour difference of opinion before I couldn't take it anymore.

Let me just say this... hospitals do NOT seem to like chiropractors AT ALL.

Instead of going with MY idea of just giving me a sharp object so I could cut the offending part OUT, I got a big ass shot in the arm that even made Grant cringe, valium and vicodin...followed by x-rays and what amounts to a small book of instructions, and we were on the way back home.

And OF COURSE, I have to report for jury duty in 5 hours. Do they let people all drugged up be one of the deciding factors on a trial?

All I can think of at this particular moment is...there are a lot of fucking steps to climb at the freakin' courthouse - and that's going to suck.

I wonder if I can con some stranger into carrying me.
I'm not above that...