This article serves as a very loose extension of an earlier post that I had made about physical therapy. Since I am back at home for Thanksgiving break, my mother decided to take me to a Chinese doctor to treat my leg pains. I knew little of the procedures that I was about to go through, but the shock that followed each one left a noticeable mark in my memory.
After asking me to summarize the symptoms and their descriptions, the doctor asked me to lay face-down on the exam table. Of course, this was after I looked at him quizzically, not quite understanding where my face should have gone. He told me to relax, moving my arms from beside my head to the side of my body. He pushed my body around, pulling and tugging my legs, until he pulled my body as straight as he could. He concluded that my spine needed work because my legs currently ended at unequal points. He told my mom and I the potential causes of this. We then followed that with a question about what could be done at this point, to which he said, “I’ll fix it now.” When he was preparing my limbs, he told me that he could tell that I was very nervous, which I hadn’t even realized yet. I didn’t feel tense, but he pointed out that my fists were clenched very tightly; even though I believed that I felt at ease, the muscles in my body had automatically contracted.
I tried my best to relax more than I thought I could. My face was still sticking through the hole in the exam table, and he asked me to keep my mouth open. It felt strange and awkward for a second, but then he suddenly began to push my back, forcing me into the table. Air escaped my mouth with every shove. That’s when I truly understood the comparison between lungs and balloons that I read about in my anatomy books. I was powerless under the doctor’s manipulation. I heard strange cracklings coming from some places for the first time as he realigned everything. I heard each vertebra reuniting with another. Despite reminding myself that this was for my own good, my head was filled primarily with worry. Working on my neck was nerve-wracking. I hadn’t placed all of my trust in this guy yet, and here he was, telling me to lose control over my body so that he could speed up his progress. There were many points at which I could anticipate death. My fear of dying quickly became a fear of having fears. The doctor had emphasized the importance of relaxing. It was so hard for me to just forget about all the stresses that had accumulated from two semesters and the summer at Amherst. I had to somehow lose track of those stresses, while my body was experiencing another form of physical pressure. After cracking every possible bone, except my skull (thankfully), he let me rest for a little bit.
Before continuing with the procedure, he suggested tea and meditation for my future wellness. My back still hurts as I write this, so I know that it was certainly realigned. But, after that appointment, my greatest worry is whether or not I possess the ability to reset my misaligned mind and body. Maybe it was time for me to reconsider my priorities and set off time to actually relax. As a student, I tend to be the most stressed when I’m not busy. I’m too stressed to even de-stress. Even though I haven’t found a way that works best for me, I am hopeful that I will either find it or make it myself.