What happened?
I've given you the
back story and the (long)
update 10 years later. Now for the event itself.
I ended my back story with, "
Since 2-3 day migraines were part of my world as often as every few weeks, with the occasional 10+ day migraine a few times per year (my record had been over 30 day when hormones were adjusting after my daughter's birth), I let the headache and accompanying symptoms keep me down in bed for about a week before getting proactive and heading to my doctor for pain shots, then on to the ER again (at my doctor's insistence) for something even stronger. After trying all they knew to do, ER sent me home without relief on the evening of October 24, 2011. My decision the next morning impacts my life and the lives of all who love me, to this day."
So what was my decision? I did what is commonly done with headaches, one of the specific things their services are advertised to help. I went to a chiropractor.
Yes, I had used chiropractic services before, many times in fact, due to a back injury at camp in early high school. So I had received dozen of previous adjustments over the prior 13 years. This was my first appointment with this specific chiropractor. (I'm pre-emptively answering two of my most-frequently ask questions when folks hear my story.)
Around 10 that Thursday morning, October 25, 2011, I walked into that chiropractic office under my own power. I did not take any form of another step for several days, and no unaided step for a few years! (I still don't walk well, but can now "pinball" around the familiar walls of my own home without an assistance device, and use only a cane, walker, or occasional wheelchair, outside my house.)
During my neck adjustment the chiropractor noted how tense I was and said, "Just relax. Trust me." He encouraged me to yield all control of my neck muscles over to him as he took the full weight of my head in his hands.
He rotated my neck to the left, "popping" it as one would pop their knuckles, commenting "Wow! You sure are hypermobile!"
He tried once to the right. Nothing.
A second time to the right, a little harder, faster, more forceful. Still nothing.
Try three. Harder, faster, farther neck stretch. No result.
Four. (At this point I lost count. My mom was in the room and agrees with my memory that it was at least four, though possibly as many as five or six attempts.) Exceedingly more aggressive with each twisting stretch.
"POP"!!! The explosion echoed through my ears louder than a gunshot!
Instantly I am so dizzy I feel like I will flip off the narrow treatment table. Announcing to the room that the bench suddenly feels like a boat floundering into the waves of a hurricane, I grab for the edges of the narrow cot to keep from being flung off what feels like a wildly bucking bronco.
The nails of my right hand gough into the stiff brown vinyl as my left leg involuntary shoots into the air then dangles haphazardly off the table. Immediately thereafter, the left arm (that hasn't been able to grasp the table) flails wildly. Then I loose my grip as the right arm joins in what I'm told looked like a grand-mal seizure (later to be identified as a pseudoseizure since it was not triggered by epileptic activity).
The chiropractor again grabbed my head and yelled "Look at me!" When I tried to tell him that everything was just a grey mist and that he had no face nor form, I heard a strange-sounding variant of my own voice garble out a slur of vowel sounds that were intended to express, "I can't look at you." Uncontrollably, I started a confused a nervous giggle of terror.
My last memory was hearing my mom place a call and speak the first couple sentences to a 911 operator. Then the silence and blackness of unconsciousness engulfed me...
"It is God who arms me with strength and keeps my way secure."
- Psalm 18:32 -
Stay tuned throughout the month for my early recovery memories and the medical explanation.
Comments
Post a Comment