I’ve had this pain in my leg since December, so last month I started going to the bone doctor. It’s helping and all, but as he goes through the various routines, I started thinking about how some of these devices seem to be based on medieval torture devices.
For example, I start my session on this table I call The Rack. You lay flat on your stomach, grip these handlebars in front, and the chiropractor straps your legs down. Then the lower half the of the table drops and lifts, stretching out your lower back.
Not a far cry from a separating table with a crank wheel and screw drive. Remove the shackles and bring the vict– er, patient — back to a comfy position before stretching him out again, and boom, therapy instead of torture.
Oftentimes my sessions end with an ultrasound treatment. The little pads go on your back, they’re held in place with some weights, and as it goes to work, it heats up. Crank ’em up a few degrees and increase the weight and you’ve got a hot poker (or burning coal) and a crushing block.
Fsssss!! “Agh! Okay, I confess! I renounce Satan! Oh, wait, I mean wow! That feels much better!”
Then there’s the neck chair. I’ve only been on this thing a couple times, but it’s a small chair and looks fairly innocuous. The narrow back slopes up and away from your lower back, so you’re in a slight recline when you sit down. Your shoulders and above are above the top of the seat back. The doctor pokes and prods for a moment, then crackle! He just cracked your neck.
I’m not sure this one was modified much. Sure, it felt great a few minutes afterward, but when he first did it, ouch! Especially the first time when I wasn’t ready for it.
Last but not least, today I got my first treatment on the wave table. I don’t know how to describe this one other than you lay down and suddenly you feel like it’s about to swallow you up. Then, before you can react, doc hits a switch and this roller starts working your back. It rolls across one section, then moves up and down, continuously shoving and rolling, shoving and rolling.
Put spikes on that sumbitch and I’ll confess to anything. Kennedy? Yeah, I shot him and made Oswald my patsy. Lincoln? Sure, that was my fault, too. Just make it stop!
I can’t wait ’til he busts out the modern version of the Judas Cradle: