Monthly ArchiveApril 2008
Chiropractic 27 Apr 2008 08:16 am
Okay, I’ve been silent for a few days waiting for someone to comment on my last post, which I thought was rather humorous, but apparently no one else thought worthy of notice. (hint, hint)
Oh well, be that as it may, this week I ran across another funny little story penned by the ever-lovable Panda Bear, MD that I thought you might enjoy, instead.
It involves his recent encounter with one of our old friends and was tucked neatly within a post entitled, Randompanda.
To fully appreciate this little ditty, you need to understand that Panda Bear is an ER doctor working in a major metropolitan hospital and his patient… well, you’ll see…
I Kept My Mouth Shut
I had a trauma patient the other day who quickly informed me that he was a chiropractor and then rattled off the cervical vertebrae he believed to be injured just to show us that we were dealing with a medical professional and not some yokel.
He had fallen off of a ladder and bumped his head. After the usual “pan scan” that the trauma surgeons order on everyone regardless of mechanism or history he was given a clean bill of health and discharged from the department.
We usually send these minor trauma patients home with a small prescription for vicodin or percocet even though all most people really need for this kind of thing is some motrin.
I have been sticking to the motrin lately because we don’t have to give narcotics to everybody. He flagged me down before he was discharged and demanded something stronger for his pain. I smiled politely and wrote him a prescription for Vicodin.
Chiropractor, heal thyself. Doesn’t he have any colleagues that could, I don’t know, adjust him or something?
If you don’t see the humor in this, you just haven’t been paying attention.
Suffice it to say that Panda and I share similar opinions when it comes to magic (i.e. illusion) vs. medicine. Which is probably why he then goes on to share some further observations…
Speaking of chiropractors, I have had a run of patients lately who are under their treatment. I keep my face blank and my tongue still but most of them feel the need to apologize, which shows you that even most of the chiromancer’s customers suspect that they are being hornswoggled by this century’s equivalent of the Patent Medicine Man.
Look, its not rocket science. You can’t cure an inflamed gallbladder or a pulmonary embolism by adjusting the spine. You can’t actually adjust the spine either because, while I am second to none in admiration for the typical chiromancer’s knowledge of spinal anatomy, all of those ligaments and muscles that they rattle off prevent the kind of movements that they claim to induce.
Hell, in my line of work we call chiropractic “spinal adjustment” by its correct term, “trauma,” and it is only the inability of most chiromancers to generate motor vehicle collision-type forces that keep them from hurting more patients than they actually do.
As usual, I find myself agreeing with Panda Bear on this one.
If you’ve just arrived here and are still struggling under the illusion that chiropractors are medical doctors, here are some articles that will bring you up to speed:
- Don’t I Need a Chiropractor?
- How Chiropractic Damages Your Spine
- Medical School or Fraud Factory? An Inside Look at Chiropractic College
Personal 08 Apr 2008 04:24 pm
It was such a fine day yesterday that I just had to open up the house and let in a little fresh air. The sun was shining. The temperature was mild. A gentle breeze was blowing and for a moment anyway, all was right with the world.
I poured myself a cup of coffee, settled in at my desk and proceeded to hammer out the various tasks on my afternoon agenda. That is until the stillness was suddenly shattered by shrill screams coming from the other room.
The Predator, which just moments before slept peacefully in my lap, is now on full alert. And although she’s an efficient killing-machine she has the courage of a sparrow and so, as usual, it was left up to me to investigate this latest disturbance.
I swept the razor-taloned beast to the floor and went to see if there was any hope of staving off whatever misfortune was about to befall.
Upon entering the next room I discovered, much to my amazement, that a small child had climbed up on a bench and was happily squealing something unintelligible in my open window. Mind you, having been spared the folly of matrimony and the subsequent disappointment of procreation, I had no idea what to make of this odd behavior.
Nevertheless, it is my firm belief that those of limited stature are best regarded with due diligence whenever they happen to escape from captivity lest they commence to wreak havoc and mayhem upon all in their path.
And so it was that I proceeded to ask her in my best; let’s scare it away and perhaps it’ll think twice before returning voice, “What are you doing?”
Whereupon, she looks up and I find myself gazing into the eyes of a lovely blonde creature whose countenance could melt even the blackest heart. What’s more, instead of fright, this angelic little cherub gleefully breaks into an extensive narrative of toddler babble the only decipherable part being something to the effect, “We’re going to eat them for dinner.”
She then points to her little co-conspirator dutifully picking dead leaves off the honeysuckle bush and filling a little plastic bucket with this wondrous treasure.
Quite smitten at this point — my original plan of stern scolding having melted into oblivion like a wisp of smoke — I’m left with little more than a mere, “Oh.”
As she happily scampered off down the street with her playmate and their newfound bucket of joy I couldn’t help but smile as I recall a line from an old John Wayne movie, “Too bad they have to grow up to be people.”