Ever since I was caught in the middle of a five-car pile up on the Pasadena Freeway more than 20 years ago (where I took the brunt of the pick-up that plowed into me & only pushed me into the fool in front of me…who sued me), I occasionally need chiropractic services.
Most recently my back, shoulders & neck just locked up into one continuous spasm of pain in mid-December. I made it through the weekend, but by Monday morning I really could barely move. So I trawled the Web to find local chiropractors & was kind of surprised by what I found.
Given how many physical therapy practices around the Silicon Valley—& how many people earn their living hunched over PCs—I expected to find more chiropractors around here. But there weren’t very many, & even fewer that garnered okay reviews online.
Well, I won’t go to anyone who uses blunt force; I only allow someone who’s certified in use of the Activator method, so I guess that narrows down the field.
Anyhow, some offices were closed on Mondays, & those I could reach couldn’t get me in that day. The single practice that could see me turned out to be everything that’s sleazy about chiropractic. I won’t go into details, but let me just say that they pitched a much harder-sell on long-term treatment than I’ve ever received. You know you’re in for a pocket-picking session when the chiropractor puts that puppy-eye face on & tells you you need to see him three times a week…for six months.
Seriously? Does anyone sign up for that? Does anyone’s insurance carrier sign up for that?
(Also, he must bathe in cologne. Guy near to asphyxiated me.)
But what I want to share with you was one of those pictures that replace 1000 words. Want to know how sleazy this guy is? Take a look at one of the many examples of wall art throughout his office.
