There’s something exciting about being forty-six years old, like “why does my neck and shoulder hurt whenever I look to the right when it didn’t hurt a couplea hours ago?” After ruling out the onset of either a stroke or heart attack I go with what is the usual culpert…the arthitis in my neck was aggravated into making me walk and move from the waist up like “Lerch” from the “Adams Family” TV show (though my motor skills exceed his to date). Sometime Sunday I probably moved too quickly, lifted without thinking or the dreaded “lift and twist” which is a great way to end up in this position that I now find myself.
Fortunately I’m blessed with a good chiropractor. I hadn’t ever been to a chiro prior to last fall. Whenever these symptoms befall me I’d wait a week or two before the pain was excreitaing…altering my sleep (what there was of it) and or my appetite. (note to all of my new richripley readers out there…I revert back to being an whiny seven-year old boy whenever pain comes along; being that I only go to the doctor when I a.) lose sleep or b) can’t eat or c) both a and b. I’m a joy to be around is what I’m getting at. Anyway…when the pain starts now I just pull out his business card (it’s the one behind my Panchero’s Bonus Burrito Club Card…I love me some burrito!) and give him a quick call. Usually he has me fixed up, adjusted, cracked, shocked or whatever within an hour of my call (he kind of sounds like a drug dealer at this point) but nontheless…my pain is usually gone within half a day of his “laying on of hands” of me and my neck, which I appreciate immensely.
Since I’m still just an hour removed from the chiro I’ll have to forgo my workout at the gym, lifting those massive ten pound dumbbells that the older ladies guard like it’s the last prune Danish at a nursing home (I’m dead serious…my gym serves coffee in the morning hours and it’s become a neighborhood watering hole for all old folks wearing stretchy, form-fitting outfits, orthopedic Nike’s and showing off tons of liver spots. TONS). I can still do some light aerobic work…so I’m taking my boombox and The Very Best of B.T.O CD and starting a conga line to “Takin’ Care of Business.” Everybody…ONE, TWO, THREE AND FOUR!!
“You get up every morning
From your alarm clocks warning (INSERT RIGHT PELVIC THRUST WITH RIGHT LEG)
Take the 8:15 into the city
There’s a whistle up above (INSERT LEFT PELVIC THRUST WITH LEFT LEG)
And the people pushin, people shovin…(if ya ain’t got the idea by now forget it)