A somewhat recent acquaintance of mine is a chiropractor. I asked him last night, as he had told me to ask whenever I wanted his help, if he could look into a sharp pain I was getting in my left elbow (not for the first time, but the first time in months). The casual deftness and gentleness with which he evaluated, pressed, prodded, rotated, shifted, squeezed, and popped the various parts and muscles of my arm, wrist, elbow, and shoulder had me blown away. And, after he fiddled around so gently and calmly, doing what all he was doing with my arm as he made a running commentary about how tight this or that was, my arm felt a hundred times better. When I went and tested the exact movement that had been causing the sharp pain each time, the pains were gone. Only a slight dullness remained at one single point in the movement, the point with the highest level of stress on my elbow. But it wasn’t painful; just tired-feeling. All-in-all, it was an amazing experience with an utterly relieving (physically and mentally) outcome.
Though this acquaintance himself has little to do with this next statement, what he did last night has everything to do with it.
I think I might want to marry a chiropractor.