So I’ve got a Chiropractor. This is exciting. I don’t know why I wrote Chiropractor with a capital letter, perhaps it underlines both my fear and reverence for them. I was going to get a lawyer but then I thought maybe the excitement of suing somebody would be mitigated if I didn’t get back treatment and ended up crippled.
I wondered what she’d be like, the chiropractor, as I cycled from maths towards the practice. Perhaps a beautiful, talented and insightful Donna Moss to my handsome if a little awkward genius Josh Lyman, always on hand to organise my life and social relationships while I sit around being brilliant. This is going to be wonderful. I’ll have a little office in the West Wing and be serving at the pleasure of the president and whenever I need something I can shout Donna in a loud voice and she’ll come over and lovingly disarm me with her gentle mocking while sorting everything out. Tum te tum te tum… Do I daydream to much? I’ve only watched the first four series of The West Wing so if it turns out later that Josh goes mad and kills Donna and then eats her brain with a teaspoon please forgive me, that honestly wasn’t part of my plan….
Anyway, all of my best daydreams are foiled by minor technical details and it seems this time that the good people of Sheila’s wheels, tireless in their effort to rid womankind of the yolk of male oppression, deemed it inappropriate to get me a beautiful young chiropractor. Apparently not content with hitting me with a car they had to go piss on my dreams too, thanks a lot guys. ‘Jim’ my decidedly male and un-Donna like chiropractor makes me fill out lots of boring forms before asking me to colour in where it hurts on a picture of a man. I resist the temptation to draw comedy breasts. Whenever I’ve been for any treatment before I’ve been made to take off my shirt and trousers and lie on the funny bed, it’s kind of what happens when you go for any kind of physio, but here they provide you with a blue gown which goes down to the knee and has velcro running all down the back. On balance I think this is more freaky, and possibly reminiscent of a psychiatric ward, this visit definitely isn’t going to plan. It doesn’t get any better when I go in and Jim is playing with a hammer, “just sit down and relax” he says.
But,as it turns out, Jim is not a psychopath but an extremely good chiropractor. He measures my neck movement with a protractor. So when I get back from Germany I am going to get cured and everything will be excellent again. Alas there’ll still be no Donna Moss for me but that’s life eh..