Today I went to my chiropractic/physical therapy appointment at a new place I’m trying. I really like the doctor; he is clearly explaining what’s going on with me and what I need to do to be balanced and pain-free again. He has a bit of an edge and a sense of humor I find appealing and refreshing.
He hooked me up to a machine that he said would open up my hip area and create space between discs. That sounded like a good idea; I’m pretty much up for anything. He turned on the machine, offered me a blanket, dimmed the lights and said, “Go ahead and take a nap.”
As Stevie Wonder crooned through the speaker, the machine started to tug me toward the bottom end of the table.
Within 10 minutes, I had to remove the padded strap around my chest lest it end up around my neck, and I started plotting my escape from the contraption if it proved necessary.
Finally, the timer went off, and the receptionist came in.
“I’m not sure this is right,” I told her.
She wasn’t sure, as she was pretty new, and said she had to wait for the beep to unstrap me. Luckily, the doctor returned and confirmed that this was not, in fact, how it was supposed to go.
He explained that I was supposed to exert sufficient resistance against the machine so that I wouldn’t slide down the table. I politely pointed out that I didn’t get that direction. He said this happens sometimes.
What does this say about me? Am I a frog in a slowly boiling pot? I spent the drive home distracted from my audiobook and wondering if this means I’m too passive. Maybe I should be more assertive in general. Would a more assertive person have naturally resisted the tug of the machine?
You can bet I’ll beat that thing next time I’m strapped to it. It’s going down.
My Corner of the Village 