Tag Archives: health

Looks like You Need an Adjustment…

nobody got timeSometimes I like to think I’m invincible. My definition of invincible basically being the song “U Can’t Touch This” by MC Hammer. My fiance often likes to joke that he gets nervous when I have a random ache because I have such a high tolerance for pain that I let a lot of stuff slide. I like to share this with a lot of people because it makes me sound like a totally bitchin’ badass, which, let’s face it, I am. I once called a healthcare hotline while nannying when I didn’t have health insurance. The conversation went as follows:

“How can I help you, today?” Super nice (and I imagine super cute) nurse lady who helps people without health insurance.

“I have some pretty severe pain in my stomach. I’m pretty sure my colon has been inflamed for about a week now but I wasn’t sure if it was that serious.”

“Ma’am, I’m going to need you to go the emergency room… like yesterday.”

“But do you think I’ll have to wait long? I need to be at my other job at 1:45.”

So, when last week, my back was all like, “oh hell, noooooo” to the whole walking thing, I decided I should probs see someone. The problem is, I keep asking myself, “it is worth it?” as in “is it worth paying money to feel healthy?”

Ahh, and then I understood (clouds parted and healthcare angels began to sing in hushed, angelic whispers). It could just be me but as a member of the (hashtag)millennial generation, I’m going to say it: we suck at taking care of ourselves. But it’s not completely our fault. Amidst the whole growing-up-and-living-on-your-own-and-being-responsible thing, we all kind of thought: hey, we’re young, we created Youtube and Twitter, we can handle a little chronic back pain, a little Strep throat, a little [insert sickness here]. Couple this with the whole skewed health insurance system in our country and it’s a recipe for a generation that is not taking care of themselves. I mean, we’re the first generation who thought searching symptoms on WebMD constituted a physical check-up. Self-diagnosing your vertigo via the interwebs is not helping anyone, people.

So when I found a chiropractor, who I’m pretty sure moonlights as the soothing voice in every late night telemarketing ad for a neck or body massager, or “being your whole self,” I knew I struck medical gold. She gets me, in the way that she wrote a note to my boss saying I can no longer lift the heavy boxes of sodas that Staples delivers every week. I’m also an advocate of healing yourself without using medication — could be the whole substance abuse thing that runs in my family but hey, to each their own. (But seriously, everyone, stop relying so much on prescription drugs).

So back to my question: is it worth it? Well, when your doctor tells you your neck is in the shape of an “S” and no, that’s not how it should look and oh, see this pinched nerve, that’s probably the reason you’ve been losing feeling in your hands, then I would go with a solid yes, it’s worth it. I’ve been twice so far and I felt very proud when she said my “back was adjusting really well” — my spine high-fived itself for being so responsive to treatment. keep calm I’m not saying everyone should go to a chiropractor — I still feel weird about it myself to be honest. But let’s at least make a promise to ourselves to take care of our bodies. And no, I don’t mean finally getting that adderall you’ve been trying to trick your doctor into writing you a script for. I mean like, putting down the In and Out burger fries and The Call of Duty controller and going for a walk or some shit. Ugggh, did I just sound like my grandmother talking about Call of Duty like that?

How often do you go to the doctor? Have you ever been to a chiropractor? Is your neck also shaped like an “S”?

When Will I Feel My Mouth Again and How Did You Become a Dentist?

scumbag-dentist_o_656833When it comes to going to the dentist, I am a seven-year-old boy — I have at least three new cavities every time I go and I’m loath to admit how scared I am of power drills being inserted into my mouth.

The receptionist, however, never misses a chance to call me ‘sister’ and treat me like Kourtney Kardashion (‘cuz Kourt’s the hip, grounded one) — today is no exception. As I sit in the waiting room I wonder if it’d be weird to invite her to my wedding, mostly because I like her blue framed glasses and feel like she’d be the type of friend to monitor my bad dental habits without being too naggy. My BFF daydream is interrupted, however, by who I can only imagine is an ex-reggae star turned dental hygienist. He is way too talkative, and in case you were wondering, he’s from Florida, has two crowns, and his grandmother also has digestive problems.

The dentist comes in and I recognize him as the one who doesn’t believe I brush my teeth. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE when a dentist gasps and then adjusts his tone to say, “wow you actually have kind of white teeth.” It’s super confidence-boosting. I have prepared for him today, however, by brushing my teeth before entering the room, scrubbing my tongue of all coffee residue.

I start exercising my mouth like I’m trying out for the lead part in Dentistry Training Video: When a Patient Has a Grape-Sized Mouth, when I realize I forgot to put on the stunner shades Ziggy Marley handed to me before Doctor-I’m-a-real-Dentist walked in.  I slide them on.

So regretting not

Do you think the dentist will take a picture of me in these will my mouth pried open if I ask really nicely?

“Do I look like I’m in the Matrix?” I ask the two uneasy men who now look at each other, their eyes screaming “there’s ALWAYS one.”

“Yeah, definitely,” says Ziggy Marley and I’m immediately grateful for all the life decisions that brought him to this moment.

Doctor-real-dentist is now sticking needles into my gums and shaking my lip like I’m being shot up with heroin and I’m thinking hey, buy me a drink first, guy.

Halfway through the procedure, doctor-dentist chuckles to himself and says, “Girl you are a saliva factory.” I’m sorry, sir, is the spit filling up in my mouth crowding the four hands and twenty drills that are currently occupying my grape sized pie-hole? My mouth can barely fit around a hot dog and you’re stretching my lip to my ear while complaining about my overproduction of saliva? Were you not here three minutes ago when you pumped my gums full of the tinglies? Do you realize half my face is paralyzed?

Do dentists need to take a course in condescension to graduate? There’s no place that more adequately reminds you of the consequences of your poor life choices than the dentist. Me, eat too many sweets? No way. Oh, you found pieces of cookies in my teeth? Well, okay, I guess you’re right.

“You need to rinse your teeth after you drink coffee,” says the dentist devil as he spears my gums.

legitimate attempt at smiling while mouth is temporarily paralyzed. This wasn't the first take incase you were wondering how I get my beauty to transfer so gracefully

legitimate attempt at smiling while mouth is temporarily paralyzed. This wasn’t the first take incase you were wondering how I get my beauty to transfer so gracefully

I immediately spit out the gauze pad soaking up my drool and look at Ziggy to back me up, “you saw me brush my teeth before I came in! Didn’t I?” He barely nodded. Clearly there was a dentistry code being played out here. Finally, my third and final cavity is filled and I am set free by sir-judges-a-lot. Of course, I receive no lolly pop or treasure box like the other kids, just a ridiculously hefty bill and an ultimate case of lazy mouth.