Healing in Cincinnati

I have been keeping a google doc of my symptoms. But, it is hard not to feel like I am just complaining and too sensitive. I saw my back doctor’s eyes as I told him all the things that I have been feeling. They pretty much resided in the back of his head. He bantered back and forth with me about my symptoms. He noted his only exposure to yoga was living above a studio, and mocked my assertion that it had helped me with awareness. “Right, awareness. That is what yoga is all about huh? Smirk. Smirk.”

As I left, he told me I had a pretty smile. He did not take me seriously. He reluctantly ordered an MRI of my low back, though he said he would “sleep just fine at night without you having one.” Still, I did it. And two days later, there on the computer screen, were my two degenerated, bulging discs complete with bone spurs and adema and shit. The back of a construction worker or grandma. Shit. He says it will never get better and there is nothing I can really do. He suggested paying attention to it and modifying life according to that. I said, “cool.” He said, “cool.” Really. This is what Western medicine has to offer.

My Chiropractor, Dr. Baker, on the other hand ensures me that if I wobble on a blue inflated disc, lay over a foam wedge daily and get consistent chiropractic care, I can take my stage 3 degeneration back to a stage 2. Dr. Baker is serious about chiropractic care and even more serious about his contempt for all types of care that are not part of his Total Maximized Living package. He is more of a motivational speaker and coach than a doctor. His office is adorned with quotes from MDs about subluxation and corrective care and the number of deaths hospitals cause and healing. He relives his glory days of competitive weight lifting down the hallway to the bathroom where his muscles literally bulge through the photographs as you pass. You do not go in your own room to get your care. You are with a community of other healing people and hear Dr. Baker cheer each one on as they climb atop his table. “Ooohh, good one. Great adjustment.” “Oh, did you feel that? You have been doing your homecare!”

I can’t help but feel like I am a C student when I go see Dr. Baker. I do the homecare, sort of. I don’t give him hugs after my adjustments. I can’t bow down and worship the chiropractic care God as my one and only savior. I still worship a few other health care gods. I suppose I am a polytheist. I want to believe in one way, but there is so much proof of so many different answers along with so much proof that there is no answer. I find myself doing what any good Unitarian would do and finding a little bit of each to fold into my personal care plan. Yet, I clearly have yet to be saved… as is also typical of most Unitarians.

So, it was my back pain’s unending knocking and this persistent foggy headed fatigue that ultimately brought me back to Cincinnati for the past 6 weeks. While my soul could have kept hopping, my body had had enough and once I sat down for a minute, I realized my soul was ok with the reprieve as well. I found a friend with an extra room in Northside, and I made a little home centered around healing my body, discovering what young adults are doing in Cincinnati, networking, and repacking for my final big move of the year.

Six weeks later, my back still hurts, but I have a new understanding about what is really going on and arsenal of exercises that should at least help me manage. My fogginess has lifted. My childhood is thoroughly sorted through, straight A report cards from age 6 to 18 were carefully pruned down to the ones just with the best teacher commentary. I held off from throwing out my 6^th grade presidency campaign signs just in case I run for office some day. I thought Huffington Post would surely like to do a piece on my first successful political campaign. 

My Midwestern blood is pulsing proudly. This time in Cincinnati, I really did it. I did two long group bike rides centered on food. 

Queen City Bike and Dine

I had visitors from Chicago come and boasted the city’s gems. Clearly if I ever come back to live in this city, I will need to recruit a few other like-minded urban pioneers to join me.

I spent a day strawberry picking and strawberry baking with my mom (perhaps the stuff of another blog post). 

 

Strawberry- Rhubarb pie and Strawberry- Rhubarb "syrup"

I explored the all-american country side of Adams County, Ohio with my sister-in-law and nephew.

I played one too many games of Settlers of Catan with fellow artists, politicians, bakers, and twenty-somethings with flexible schedules.

I indulged in delicious riverside beer with my dad. 

I volunteered for Sherrod Brown. I met people doing amazing work in education, juvenile justice, politics, and youth development. I sowed a few seeds just in case someday my path brings me back to the place I was born.

In Boston, I continue to update my symptoms journal and search for the perfect doctor who gets it all. But, until then, I heal with the knowledge that I really do love Cincinnati, I am so happy to be in Boston, and I get to go to London tonight. 

Oh what a YOOT it has been.