I’m married to a man who despises going to the doctor. So naturally he enjoys visiting my rota of physicians with me on what feels like a weekly basis. When he wrenched his back a month ago he opted for the Gut It Out cure employed by all who hate doctors and doctor bills. He was finally at wits’ end yesterday morning and I told him I’d book a doctor appointment. He balked and so I suggested a chiropractor; I went to one for a weight-training injury about 15 years ago and it worked fine. They hooked me up to a TENS unit, did x-rays, gave me a bit of a massage and cracked my back. I figured the same thing would sort Husband just fine.
When we walked into this new chiropractic office–chosen for its high ratings and proximity to our house–I immediately felt off-center. The walls were painted a soothing shade of moss-green, and relentlessly positive quotes were stenciled on every available wall. People of various sizes and shapes filtered in to work with the ropes hanging from walls and to wiggle around on plastic balls placed on rows of chairs in front of a television where a man talked about how MegaSuperWellBody (or whatever the name of it was) cured him from his stage 3 melanoma. There was a jar on the sign-in counter labled “drug freedom jar”, where you’re supposed to put your now unneeded pills. Every bottle was strategically positioned within the jar to obscure the name of the medication it had contained, so I have no idea what drugs MSWB is supposed to release you from.
They gave us a tour of the office and showed us a “kids’ play area”, complete with toys on the floor and Veggie Tales painted on the wall. The cheery woman giving the tour said they see “lots of families” and treat “babies so they don’t grow up with the same problems we have”. All I could picture was the chiropractor cracking a baby’s spine and it was frankly upsetting. After the tour–which included a wall of credentials, most of which were certificates of participation in seminars–we went into a room where Husband was asked to take off his shirt. The assistant ran a device down the length of his back that looked something like a checkout scanner on wheels. She said it sensed the “heat from his nerves” so they could see where the problems were. When I asked how the device could differentiate between heat from nerves as opposed to heat from blood she said “that’s a good question.” I repeated the question to the doctor who said that it “reads deep, like an ultrasound, and the nerves are deeper than the blood.” A speech was given about how a pinched nerve will shut down your organs and how the pain in Husband’s lower back was from a subluxation in his neck. They then took X-rays. Then the doctor said “I need to develop the X-rays, so I can be very specific during the adjustment. I want to see you first thing tomorrow for a soft adjustment and we’ll go over your treatment plan.” We left some amount lighter in our pocketbook, without any improvement at all. They didn’t even hook him up to a TENS unit to relieve the pain. Instead they dangled pain relief like a carrot. “Come back tomorrow, pay another $45 and we’ll start helping you feel better.”
The whole thing got me to thinking that this is how many modern American congregations of Christian Sunday churches look to outsiders. There’s a layer of friendly, upbeat, positive-think speak. Underneath that is a threat of serious illness and a vague promise of relief. Just keep coming back and giving money. You’ll hit upon the cure eventually.
The metamorphosis that many American churches have undergone in the last thirty years has made them indistinguishable from other slickly marketed packages of hope. I’m pretty sure this wasn’t where we were intended to go and I’m also pretty sure that this may be one reason that so many people don’t go to churches anymore. The Hope doesn’t feel genuine. The Grace feels like a gimmick. And just as we left the chiropractor with no cure in sight these church experiences leave so many without having seen Christ.
Just Another Pretty Farce 
I’ve been going to chiropractors since I was an infant. I love chiropractors for migraines and injuries, but I hate this new variety that adjusts little by little so that you’re forced to pay a co-pay every week or every two weeks for the next two years. That is not how traditional chiropractors operated (in my experience).
There will always be somebody in this world who is trying to sell you something you don’t need, even in churches. On the other hand, sometimes healing is slow, just like spiritual growth.
Man, something about your description of the Chiropractor’s office just screamed “snake oil” to me.
Whew…what an indictment. So true.
Chiropractors run such a huge spectrum. There are a few different schools of thought, I think, and depending on their training and philosophy they are REALLY different. I went to one in Ohio who didn’t have that woo-woo vibe at ALL…felt a lot more like a regular doctor, and that was my only experience. When we moved down here, the first one I saw was WEIRD. It was the same kind of thing, where he did almost nothing except push on specific points and tell me to lift my arm. And he wanted me to come 3-4 times a week. It felt ridiculous and unhelpful, so I dropped him. I’ve got one now that’s much more down to earth and much less after my money. I think if I were you I’d keep looking. Not sure how far she is from you, but I’ve heard tons of great things about Dr. Kristen Walkerwicz. Green Hills I think?
Also, for the record, I’ve taken my kids in just a handful of times, and even took my second when he was just a few days old (in hopes of helping nursing problems). It’s not what you’re picturing–not the violent-sounding, abrupt adjustment they do on adults. Not at all. I can’t honestly remember now exactly what he did, and it actually didn’t solve that particular problem anyway (however much it might or might not have helped my baby) but it definitely wasn’t the upsetting maneuver you’re imagining. Baby didn’t cry at all.
It’s frustrating. My dad used to go to a chiropractor regularly and thought this guy was the greatest. How do you know ahead of time if it’s crock or not? And honestly, I’ve been to a few “regular” doctors who were no better than the chiropractor you described. I’ve come to look at doctors as plumbers. Once you have the good fortune to find one, stick with him or her.