SNAP, Boom, Bang

Day 15

September 16, 2024

“No way, I would rather hobble around for a month than have someone crack my spine and neck. Remember the stories Dad used to tell? He jumps up in the air and lands on your body and you hear it snap? That he asked the chiropractor if he’s ever broken someone’s neck doing this? That the chiropractor grabbed his neck and snapped it and it went crackkkkkkkk? Nah, I’m all set.”

“Steph you have been unable to walk for a week. You tried a massage, Tylenol, and giving it time…I really think you need to go. You will be fine.”

My mom didn’t give up. This went on for a couple of days until I reluctantly gave in and agreed to go to the chiropractor. I was pregnant with my daughter and absolutely miserable.

Jay drove me to the appointment. I was reclined in the passengers seat and basically paralyzed with pain. “We are here Steph. You need to get out of the car or you’re going to be late,” he told me.

Jay hated being late. I was always late. I’m the type of person who thinks waiting for a flight in the airport for 2 hours is a waste of time. Despite my logic being proved wrong over the years, I still do not arrive to the airport 2 hours early.

One of my most memorable airport debacles was the time I was flying out of Columbus, OH. Although I don’t like being 2 hours early, I would never plan to be less than 1 hour early. I’m not sure how I miscalculated the time, but I pulled up to the airport 35 minutes prior to boarding. If you fly, you know about the “30 minute rule.” They stop taking checked bags 30 minutes before. So even if I could get to the gate in 30 minutes, my bag only had 5 minutes to get checked. I had to park and take a shuttle to the airport. That would never work. I thought about it and decided to pull up, put my flashes on, check my bag, and THEN park the car. This would never work in Boston because the State Police would be screaming the second they saw the brake lights, you wouldn’t have to worry about turning on the flashes. But this was Ohio. What was the worst that could happen? I decided to take my chances. I pulled up, flicked the flashes on, wrestled my bag out of the trunk, and jogged to the check-in desk. Luckily, there was no line. My bag was en route. Now hopefully it wouldn’t be traveling without me. I sprinted back, parked my car, took the shuttle, flew through security (again luckily), and made it to the gate just before the last passenger scanned his ticket. Phew! I always used to say, “You are late if that aren’t paging you by name…”

I actually was paged on my way to Hawaii. My friend and I were hanging out at the gate chatting with some guys and laughing when I heard my name called over the intercom. “Last boarding call for Flight 2563 to Honolulu. We are paging passengers, Stephanie Harris…” We said a quick goodbye and sprinted to the adjacent gate. That was close.

Another time my stepdad Mark dropped me off at the Gram and Pop’s house. They would be driving me the short distance to the Woburn shuttle. “Do you have all your bags Steph?”

“Yup, thanks so much for driving me, see you in a week!” I said as I hopped in the car.

We drove about 10 minutes to the shuttle and about 20 more to the airport. When I saw the “Welcome to Logan Airport” sign I started to gather my things. I had everything except my small blue duffel bag.

“Shit” I mumbled. I made the dreaded phone call.

“Hey, Stepho, what’s up?”

I knew he was rushing home to beat the dreaded Boston rush hour traffic. “Ummmm, can you call Pop? I think I might have left my bag in his car….”

As usual, Mark saved the day. He whipped around, flew to his dad’s house, grabbed my bag, and made his way to the airport.

In the meantime, the security line was weaving in and out in and out like the outside of a popular club on a Saturday night. It just kept…growing. This was not good. Even if I got my bag, I would never make it through this line. I walked up to the TSA agent and pleaded my case. “So, when I get my bag, can you help me get through?”

“Yes, I can do that,” he said. “Just come back here after you get your bag.” Easier said than done. Mark was headed to Central parking and Logan Airport was nothing short of a maze. After 4 phone calls, 3 elevator rides, 2 sets of stairs, and crossing 4 streets, I found him.

“Thank you SO much! I owe you. Love you!”

“Love you too Steph! Have a safe flight.” What a hero. Mark was selfless always doing anything he could to help all of us.

I made it inside, found my TSA friend, whipped through security, and ran to my gate. They were boarding zone 1. I was early. I turned around and went to the bathroom and picked up some dinner.

A different time I parked and hopped on the shuttle will only a few minutes to spare. The driver turned around and said, “I’m actually not working any longer, but I can do one last run to drop you off.”

“Thank you so much!” I breathed a sigh of relief. After I sat down he said, “Is that your car parked right there?” I told him that it was and he said that it wasn’t a place I could leave my car. “I can show you where to park if you want to follow me.”

“Great!” I said as I leapt out of the shuttle and dashed to my car. It wasn’t until I put the keys in the ignition that I realized I had left all my luggage in a shuttle without any assurance that he was actually showing me to a parking space. I sighed and hoped for the best and off we went. He did in fact bring me to a parking spot and then to the gate and I made my flight.

This past summer, I flew with both of my kids to Palm Harbor, Florida. When I printed the boarding passes I realized we were all in our own row. My sister told me that I better leave 3 hours early to straighten this out. For some reason, despite being typically sweating the small stuff, I wasn’t worried about this at all. I could picture it now. Two adults in a row with an empty middle seat between them. Here I come with a bulky car seat and a toddler. “Excuse me, I just have to insert this car seat really quick.” Then I would strap in the baby, hand them a diaper and a sippy cup, pop in my AirPods and flash them the peace symbol and a smile. Then turn back and say, “Here’s my number in case of an emergency. Oh, and she has crippling separation anxiety. Enjoy the flight!” Yeah, something told me someone might be willing to switch with me…this problem would sort itself out. I ended up dealing with it 5 minutes prior to boarding—just made this one too and it all worked out.

The only time I missed my flight it was due to a delay at the airport and I had to sleep on the floor at Chicago O’Hare. It was miserable, everything was closed when we landed, and I had a horrible ear infection. Not my favorite night. That said, it didn’t give me any pause when leaving for the airport with not much time to spare.

I guess I can see the desire to be two hours early. Being early would prevent the panic and the constant wonder of whether or not you will make it. The assurance that you will make your flight hasn’t been enough to change my approach though. Every flight is like a game of Russian Roulette. So far, the barrel and the chamber hadn’t aligned…I had essentially dodged the bullet each and every time.

“Steph, really, you have an appointment. You have to get out and go in.”

“Fine,” I mumbled. I opened the door and poured myself out. I stood like a hunchback and dragged myself to the door.

“Sorry I’m late, I had kind of a panic attack about this appointment.” They didn’t seem to care and I went straight to the room. We discussed the issues I was facing and how he planned to remedy them. He did some adjustments while walking me through and I left walking. I kept thinking of it like a miracle. I went four more times.

Over the next couple of years I went to the chiropractor about 12 times. I saw the same practitioner and he always realigned my body with no issues.

This was until August 31, 2024. I had just been telling my friends on Thursday how they should try the chiropractor. Both said that they were afraid and I reassured them that I was the MOST afraid and if I could do it, so could they.

Now it was Friday the 31st and I walked into the appointment. I had my son and daughter in tow. I checked in and was called back pretty promptly. The chiropractor introduced himself (it wasn’t the man I had seen all 12 times but someone new) and proceeded to have me lie on the table. It was a drop table and these tables are designed to lower as the chiropractor pushes on the spine. I read, “The momentum from the drop combined with the mass of the patient and the force from the chiropractor results in an adjustment that is quick, targeted, and powerful.”

“You are really tight. You are a tough person to adjust.”

I couldn’t figure out what that meant. I was distracted by the kids and let him finish the appointment.

That night I tried to take Flexerall to relieve that pain. I also tried Advil and taking breaks. By Sunday it was a nuisance and I was sure I needed to see the chiropractor again to sort this out. By Monday I was crawling around the house. It was something that had happed each and every time I had thrown out my back. I googled “When to Go to the ER for sciatica?” I determined that if both legs or my groin became numb that it would be urgent. It was something called Cauda Equina, but it wasn’t likely. That only happened in 1 out of 100,000 people.

Surprise! I was one of the lucky few. My surgeon told me that it was likely caused by the chiropractor. That he wasn’t sure he could prove it, but that the timeline made sense.

So I went for a minor adjustment on a Friday and by Tuesday I was unable to walk being wheeled into emergency spine surgery.

My neurosurgeons told me that they don’t advise people against the chiropractor but discourage them from having their neck snapped. The risk of a neck adjustment was that the quick thrust of the neck could cause small tears in the artery walls. This was known as cervical artery dissection and it could cause a stroke. In fact, the surgeons had seen it more than once.

Risks of seeing a chiropractor include:

1. A herniated disc (CHECK)
2. Compression of nerves in the lower spinal column (CHECK)
3. A stroke after neck manipulation

Well, there it was. Went in Friday with minimal back pain and by Tuesday was being rushed into surgery.

My advice? Pass on the chiropractor.