Archive for the ‘rant’ Category

Oh hai, blog….its been a few – err, FOUR – years…

July 15, 2012

Well, how the fuck did we end up here?

A lot of shit has happened these last four years. Truly.

Japan happened. Twice. But those are stories for another blog entry…

I’m now an assistant web designer instead of a Japanese translator. Never saw that coming…but I do enjoy it.

And, more recently…

My beautiful, sweet boyfriend of four years – whom I gushed about in previous posts (with shades of foreboding anxiousness) –  has left me.

The short version? He didn’t love me. Says he hasn’t “consistently” – whatever-the-fuck that is supposed to mean – for the last two years, give or take.

Also, my potty-mouth has worsened somewhat. And I’ve adopted a more chat-like writing style of short pithy statements and sarcastic  oneliners. Thank you, MMORG obsession!

So…just what the fuck happened between us over the last four years?

When did shit start to go so…sideways?

If I’m honest with myself – TRULY honest – I’ve always felt this wretched, nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach whispering negativity   and warnings. The same feeling that pinched like a tiny paper-cut whenever he blew me off, said something insensitive, or generally acted oblivious as men are wont to do. But it was different with him, you see – he was the child of a psychologist, now at long last a budding counselor himself after many years of stubborn refusal to accept what he could only be good at as a psych major with a psych father and a fucked-up childhood. In other words, he should have had the insight to know better. Long and circular were the discussions we had about the meaning of life, the meaning of love, our feelings and fears…and yet still he failed to understand the value of an apology, the importance of showing me his love for me over his “commitment to the relationship” (all of which we discussed – at length).

He should have KNOWN better. He should get it.

And I never thought I would have to explain this to him – but he fucking dragged it all out of me, in the end, didn’t he? Over and over and over again we talked about it. First, my anxiousness and despondency over his inability to be there for me and treat me like I was important…and then later, his simple ability to do it because I finally DID have to out right ask him to treat me like someone who adores me maybe just enough to go see that stupid movie I want to see even when he’s tired from all that terrible unemployment leisure time spent playing video games.

He should be able to talk to me like the “best friend” he keeps telling me I am. He can banter and joke around like the crass and crude little boy all men are when they get together, but he won’t shoot the shit with me without either taking offense or simply refusing to play at all.

But you know, goddammit, in spite of it all – I wasn’t unhappy. As our talks became arguments followed by weeks of tip-toeing around each others feelings followed by more arguments, I was still happy, in the in-between. There were periods of time where he wasn’t in some emotional crisis and I wasn’t being forced to relive my darkest fears about our relationship and then defend them to him  – times when things were good. And still, I was okay with that, you know? I loved him, and I accepted it all on the one condition that he loved me back. We would survive this ridiculous downward spiral of circular arguments and indefinable unease so long as we loved each other…is that not what love is?

Let me interject here briefly on another hugely asinine and inflammatory subject that was often the crux of our arguing: MY VIDEO GAME HABIT.

Are you fucking kidding me???

Yes, so, allow me to summarize. I started playing an MMORPG called World of Warcraft (one he has been playing obsessively for at least a year) just before my second trip to Japan in an effort to 1) take an interest in the things he likes (if you can’t make your boyfriend quit being a tard and pay attention to you, join him and play the damn video games yourself…) and 2) to give us a mutual activity to participate in while I’m in Japan (since we can play together in the same “world” no matter where we are physically).  After I came back, I really took to the game and actually became pretty good. Of course, we preferred completely different styles of game-play: I enjoyed combatting other players as a damage-dealing ninja cat, while he preferred playing a healing role with a group of players versus the game world content.

Anyway, that probably makes no sense unless you play a video game of some kind. But the point is that where, for a time, he thought it was totally boner-inducing awesome that his girlfriend played (and did not completely fail at) video games with him, he then decided he played too much and, treating it like a form of addiction on par with his alcoholism (oh, did I mention I stood by him through that as well? AA meetings and all) abruptly threw away the years of time and energy he’d invested into the game, cancelled his account and stop playing games of any kind. But this was not before he basically ditched me and did his own thing and refused to do anything that I liked at all because it “stressed him out” (because I’d become a better player than he had, you see…).

Not soon after I begin to get the “looks” of disdain and mild disgust that I’m continuing to “waste” my time on a computer game. As though I did nothing else – not going to work every day while he wallows in unemployment and makes plans to further increase his debts by going back to school, not going to school myself, and most certainly not trying to hang out with him or go outside in the REAL world and enduring his ever continuous brush-offs….more importantly, as though he had not done exactly the same thing since he was a child. Before this, I’d played one or two Nintendo games in middle school, but nothing else for damn near half my life.

And do you know? He asks me to quit. He has the fucking NERVE to ask me to quit something I enjoy as much as he did. After all the years I put up with him not only playing day in and day out but actually blowing me off in favor of it – during which I only ever asked him to spend more time with me, not quit the thing he enjoyed so much – and he dares act like “well, its just a game, why can’t you just quit because I’m asking you to?”

One day, as I’m driving him to work in MY CAR, he even goes so far as to tell me “I’m really turning into a loser.”

You can bet I dumped him out on the sidewalk and told him to walk his ass to work for that. That’s not to say it didn’t hurt like hell, to have the man you love describe you as a loser, even though I could hardly see straight for the injustice of it.

I think things reached a point of no-return the first time he suggested we go to couple’s counseling.

My reaction…was less than diplomatic.

I recall my exact words were: “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME??”

He brewed and pouted over that all day long, as he’s wont to do, of course. And of course, I apologized for my choice words (which he was too much of a fucking pussy to just argue right back with…but I didn’t tell him that) and tried to explain to him that *duh* I don’t think counseling is a good idea *duh* because I have a pretty strong stance *duh* as I’ve told him many times before *duh* that counseling in relationships is only an expensive way to delay the inevitable*duh* and is insulting because it suggests we – two perfectly intelligent adults, one of whom *him* might as well BE a counselor – cannot talk to each other *DUH*.

And after we’d screamed and shouted at each other and I told him he had no right to talk to me like a child when he couldn’t even kick his coffee habit and depended on anti-depressants and wallowed around unemployed, after he stormed off (strained his finger throwing down his bicycle in anger like the child he is) and we finally sat down again, he told me he didn’t think it was going to work out and maybe we should just end it now, I caved like the stupid, lovesick little girl I am and we went to counseling.

For damn near a fucking YEAR and who-knows how many hundreds of dollars we went to counseling.

And then, after coming to terms with the gaming thing (told me it reminded him of his mother and how she was “unavailable”…kind of like I used to hate how he played because my father was a dry-drunk who ignored us while he played…of course, like the addict he is, he now plays a single-player game that I cannot participate in all the fucking time), telling me he was “more committed that ever” and that “things were really getting better”…after I was there for him through his panic-attacks and anxiety about school and temp jobs and his AA meetings…after spending the whole month preceding this little shit-fest coming to my family home to enjoy our summer BBQs and birthdays and holiday celebrations, just barely a WEEK before I graduate from college (for which I bought tickets for him and his dad months ago), and with five months left on our lease, we go to counseling, like usual, in MY CAR, and the first thing out of his mouth when we sit down in front of the counselor (this is verbatim):

“I have some bad news…I don’t want to be in this relationship anymore…”

BAD NEWS. Bad fucking news???

Oh, but this is the second time – we almost didn’t stay long enough to even see our four-year anniversary, don’t ya know. The first time, he sits me down alone in our apartment and at least has the decency to be contrite and act like it actually pains him to do this. And when he says, “I don’t think I’m in love with you anymore…” its the worst thing ever, like a knife in the gut, and I recoil from him like a wounded animal, and I cry so hard I think I’m going to choke myself, and he cries, too, and it hurts so much and I feel so lost I don’t hardly have the strength to resent it and push him away when holds me and he tells me “We”re going to get through this one day at a time” , as though a fucking tornado had hit the house and now we just have to deal with it, like it isn’t his choice.

The deepest irony of it is that I begged him to come back to counseling, to give it one more shot. I bought myself 5 more months of lies…

But this time? Well, he’s already broken my heart, I realize, and now all I have left is the full fury of my self-righteous rage.

I can’t even really express to him coherently how fucking angry I am – I’m just stuck somewhere between numb and seething and even then, with the bitterness of my anger and the knowledge that now there was no going back, even then I couldn’t bring myself to give him my full, unrestrained, uncensored opinion of his bullshit. Certainly not in front of the counselor, who doesn’t say a damn thing, in the 15 minutes before I walk out and leave my beautiful, stupid and insensitive boyfriend (again) like the dumbass he is without transportation and to pay the fucking bill like a real man ought to.

And he doesn’t even blink. He goes to his dad’s apartment and doesn’t even call me. I know he made it back, though, because when I come home – ha, “home”, as if it were ever really that – his bag is missing and some toiletries are gone.

He emails me the next day, and here is exactly what he writes:

“I’m coming over Sunday probably in the evening to pick up some things.

I know its really hard right now but I’d like to talk about logistics at some point.

Feel free to just email if you don’t want to talk…


*head explodes*

Four years. Four FUCKING years we’re together, and you decide to dispose of me like garbage, out of the blue in front of our counselor, in the midst of everything, and this is all you have to say? THROUGH EMAIL?? Like you’re talking to some business acquaintance?

“I know its really hard right now”

“Feel free to just email”

Speechless. Utterly speechless.

But you know, this is how he is. A real fucking professional shrink down to the bone. Notice the passive tone, the lack of acknowledgement of any suffering inflicted or fault, the utter lack of personal responsibility.

Like I said, you’d think we’d just had some kind of natural disaster. Like he played no part in this at all. Or even, that we’re both to blame and therefore no one is to blame…

/epic facepalm

When I respond I decide to tell him what a fucking shit he is and how he better fucking grow a pair and come talk to me like a real person, and he’s all, well I didn’t think you even wanted to talk, I’ll come over right now! Fucking oblivious.

And so he comes over, and the minute I let  my anger show (even though he “doesn’t blame me for being angry”) he hold up his hands in a huff and stands up and says he’s going to just leave right now if I’m going to be hostile.

So I take a breath, tell him to sit down and I ask him, “Do you really want it like this? Do you really think it’s okay to come and be with my family and act like everything is fine and then dump me in front of our goddamn counselor?”

He tells me, well, you know, he LIKES  my family and he thought the counselor was a good choice because then we’d have someone to MEDIATE while we talked it out…

LIKES my family? Completely beside the point. My family, not your family. You are a fucking guest, and you do not take advantage of their hospitality on false pretenses, you cocksucker…

And just what is there to talk about if you’re ending the relationship? Besides the fact that your timing is utter shit, what makes you think it will be good to go through it like this when you know how much I resent being counseled in the first place?

He’s completely dead-pan about this, eyes narrowed slightly in his now-usual facade of mild disgust and disappointment.

So I give up.

And I cry a bit more, after he leaves. But it’s hollow, mostly just a knee-jerk reaction to the pain from old memories. It feels empty and wrong, though – like someone is trying to force me to believe the sky is pink and not blue. But, like all those painful memories, that, too, is just me clinging to an old hope, the very same one that kept me believing he loved me and how could it be wrong?

Just another lie…

And the beats goes on…

July 10, 2008

I recently spoke with an old friend of mine over coffee the other day. While we mostly bullshitted about this and that, he mentioned to me that he was thinking about seeing a chiropractor for his back pain…but was hesitant because he didn’t have the best results a number of years ago when he briefly went to a chiropractor for similar problems.

Of course, I needed to divulge to my dear the friend all my newfound insights into the field of chiropracty.

Luckily, he was already skeptical, and acutally found my advice to be REASONABLE and WELL-THOUGHT OUT. I mentioned to him the “issue” I was having with my BF over his insistence on allowing his chiropractor to perform high-velocity cervical manipulations on him and how it carried a risk for stroke.

My friend mentioned that his chiropractor had also done the neck-snappy-thingy to him, and he found my concern about stroke of particular interest because within two days of having his neck manipulated, or sometimes on the same day, he would have starry vision and tingling in his arms. Also, on a number of occassions he recalled becoming numb from the waist down after lower back adjustments.


He may very well have suffered a small stroke, and the numbness is certainly cause for alarm.

He agreed that it would be better for him NOT to see a chiropractor again.

I feel a bit like a rabid dog over here, but I just keep coming up with more evidence that very clearly says, “SOMETHING WRONG WITH THIS PICTURE!!” and more reasons to worry.

…on a more humorous note, please read this post by Zoo:

And a pretty good site about back pain with an article on How Chiropractic Damages Your Spin:

…not that any of this is news, but…

More Chiro-crap

July 2, 2008

Yeah, at this point I’d say I’m being a bit obsessive. But that’s not unusual for me.


So, back to my boyfriend and his chiro-quack-tor: apparently, the doctor-wanna-be is also “treating” him for various issues related to his mild-scoliosis…and I will take a moment to mention that 1) my boy is 30 years old (i.e. an adult), and 2) his scoliosis is so mild that it is virtually invisible to the naked eye (which, based on my research, would put the degree of curvature somewhere in the very non-threatening area of 20 degrees or less).

Now, this is not, to my knowledge, the late-onset, degenerative kind of scoliosis. This is something that started when he was much younger, and I don’t believe he’s even had to wear a brace. He does seem to have some back pain from it…or, quite possibly, lifting 200 + lbs on his back on a regular basis @_@ So, from what I’ve read, this kind of scoliosis will likely become a major issue only if it has a curvature of greater than 20 degrees, and probably will not worsen after a person reaches adulthood ( ).

But, what is making me go, “Say what?”, is that his chiropractor is apparently x-raying his back and finding that, over time, his scoliosis fluxtuates in severity, periodically getting “better” and “worse”.


So, I sent a question to the National Scoliosis Foundation ( ) and here is their response:

“…a portion of the curve that one sees on an x-ray is a function of gravity. Therefore, the magnitude of the curve may change even if you took an x-ray on the same day in the morning vs late afternoon. However, the true structural (bony) curve does not change, which may be noticed if you took an x-ray morning and late afternoon while the person is lying down without the additional force of gravity.”

Interesting. I think I’m gonna step out on a limb here and say that whole ‘fluxtuating scoliosis’ is thus a bunch o’ grade-A crap.

If by “worse” and “better”, we were talking about pain, then I could see that. Particularly given the weight lifting factor. But to say that the condition itself is worsening and improving is very dubious.

I could be wrong. Maybe there are other factors I didn’t consider when I sent in my question. But I’d be very surprised if the chiropractor is actually doing anything more than the usual bone-cracking.




Love and Marriage…

July 1, 2008

…don’t seem to go together quite like a horse and carriage, if you ask me.

I’ve never had a real positive outlook on marriage. My parents are not very happy – I remember it was back sometime around middle school that Mom began to openly complain to me about the insensitive, asinine things Dad was always doing. As I got older, we’d go out for coffee and our ‘heart-to-heart’ time was mostly Mom expressing her undying irritation with Dad. Its not that she was unvalidated in feeling like he not only wasn’t paying attention to her but was being unforgivably oblivious and irresponsible – he most certainly was – but what eventually bothered me was the fact that embedded in these complaints was a very stern message to me that “you should always assume men are going to be assholes” and “don’t ever get in a relationship with a man who doesn’t treat you ‘right’ “. And yet here she was, coming up on her 15th anniversary of putting up with just such bullshit.

I don’t deny that she has a point – I just wish that she would take her own advice.

I very much believe the most successful relationships are essentially “best friends w/ full benefits”. Two people, on equal terms with each other who prefer each other’s company to the company of others almost unconditionally. That’s not to say they’re ‘attached at the hip’, but the acutal act of being with each other is more important, more worthwhile, than the activity that you might be doing together.

Let me offer an example. My boyfriend is very involved in competitive weightlifting (and yes, off-topic, he is deliciously buff ^ ^) and I’m more of a casual group aerobics/TKB/ type person. I don’t really care a whole lot about weightlifting in and of itself, and would likely have never bothered to look into it in any depth if it wasn’t something he cared about. But nonetheless, its not a forced interest, or something I begrudgingly put up with for his sake. I’m interested in him, and by extention, I take an active interest in weightlifting. Its as simple as that. I want to know him, so I intend to learn as much about what he loves as I can. And even though I’m a twig by comparision and not much of a workout partner in the weight room, I am happy to be there with him, and I am sincere in wanting to workout together.

So really, why so much selfish rigidity, people? Why the insistance on one thing or another? Does it really matter what you’re doing so long as you can do it together? Is it so hard to care about what your partner likes instead of just your own?

Most couples seem to deem their partner as a weight chained to their leg or the steeel cuffs on their hands, holding them back and holding them down. They don’t see eye to eye, they don’t like being together for the simple sake of being together, and if there is any PDA, it always seems routine or forced.

I just hate that.

And I don’t understand it.

Maybe I just haven’t been in a relationship long enough to get bored, or tired, or so comfortable that I stop trying.

By if you don’t enjoy each other, what’s the point?

Penicillin, erradication of Polio, treatment for HIV/AIDS…and your problem with modern medicine is what exactly?

June 27, 2008

“I really hate doctors”

What the hell is that, really? Okay, okay – maybe you’ve had some “bad” doctors in your lifetime: some asshole who makes you buy this fancy prescription drug which you *know* only costs such an ungodly amount because your doc is in cahoots with BigPharma; or the MD who told you to not to compete in that race because your knee was fucked up and just would not prescribe you extra Vicodin so you could participate…or maybe s/he just had a real shitty bedside manner. Sure, I can understand developing a distaste for that smell of disinfectant and that ice-cold stethescope and the pushy way the doctor insists that you say “ahh”, but to say “I hate doctors”?

What would you prefer instead?

Something au-naturale, I imagine. How about some arsenic diluted in water (a.k.a “homeopathy)? How about getting that kink out of your neck with a side of stroke (a.k.a “chiropractic medicine”)? Maybe we should grind up some Tiger bones and throw it around the room and pray to a heathen god?

You know what? Fuck all that. Lets just smoke some weed and call it good.

No, seriously. I must have grown up living under a rock, because it just blows my mind that there are really people out there who pooh-pooh conventional medicine in favor of so-called “Complimentary and Alternative Medicine” (CAM). Its kind of like atheism and religion: one of them [dares] to say “We don’t have the exact answer to that, but here’s what we do know, and here’s what we think will work based on the evidence…” and the other says (holding out a tattered book written by any number of lunatics sometime around 1000 B.C.), “This. Is. It. BEHOLD! TRUTH!!”

I think you know which is which.

Alright, I admit: I’m on a tirade. I’m being biased and unfair. I’m being sarcastic and I’m using uncouth language.

And I am not an MD.

I’m not even a scientist.

But here’s what I do know: conventional medicine, based in science, has been keeping civilization from collapsing under its own ignorance since Hippocrates. Medicine that does not continue to update itself according to contemporary research and withstand the scrutiny of scientific testing is not medicine: its B.S. Conventional medicine is not perfect, and science is not perfect. But asking for perfection is asking for the impossible, so instead of miracles, what you should be asking for is the best that there is. And nothing in the course of human history has proven to be as consistently and enduringly effective in explaining and pradicting the behavior of the world as the scientific method, and it is upon this which modern medicine is based. It is in a constant state of evolution, changing and improving as more information becomes available and methods of testing and measuring become more sophisticated.
This process if not without failures and mistakes, because error is an inevitable part of the human condition. But the traditions of CAM are archaic and obsolete – they are based in ignorance and misunderstandings that can no longer be tolerated when knowledge and the techniques exist and are readily available which far surpass them.


June 26, 2008

Okay…first rant…aaaaannnnddddd…..GO!

—>I have a low threshold of tolerance for stupid. On a person by person basis, and because I’m fickle about choosing my face-to-face battles, I generally hold my tongue and smile and nod or simply decline to comment, and save my ranting for the few people who know me well enough to endure my long-winded raves. I’m pretty liberal, and while generally open-minded and live-and-let-live about things, I take a very firm stance with regard to a few particular things: religion and non-scientific/illogical B.S.

These encompass a large, potentially hugely inflammatory subject spectrum, particularly being that my own opinion is generally, “You don’t really buy in to that fucking nonsense, DO YOU???”, and so, for the sake of my relationships with people whom I care about but who might not take kindly to having their world-views pissed on, I try to avoid talking about these things, or at least disagreeing as neutrally as possible.

So then, lets get some context for this rant: my boyfriend has posture-issues and some other slowly worsening but non-life-threatening back problems, and his love for powerlifting is not likely doing his poor spine any favors. Soured somewhat by a number of bad experiences with MDs (who invariably reccommend as a first course of action that he stop doing the thing that is making his back worse…which is of course, lifting weights. As you can imagine, that doesn’t go over very well with him), he now sees a chiropractor several times a week. Now, up until just about a month ago, I admittedly knew very little about the actual practice and held a mild distain for chiropractors in general for no other reason than I had, on more than one occasion, heard from reliable sources that the profession was essentially bunk. Eddie Izzard also did a funny stand-up routine which reduced the whole concept of chiropractic therapy to indiscriminate “bone-cracking”…and I really like Eddie. Anyway, my reaction was to be skeptical and mention that, from what I’d heard, it was a waste of money and he’d be better off going to a masseuse. He agreed, sort of, but felt that in spite of all the obviously quack theories about “subluxation” and the like, it had been shown to be effective for many people and he felt he was benefitting from it. I mentally rolled my eyes and just dismissed it as a harmless waste of time. Whatever. Not worth arguing about.

A few weeks ago, he invited me to come and meet his chiropractor and watch him get his back “done”. Cool. I was interested to see just what went on, and eager for what would undoubtedly be a first hand demonstration as to the true crackpot-tery of chiropractic “medicine”. I expected to come away feeling validated in my skepticism.

What I didn’t expect, at least not in the forefront of my mind, was to watch that fucker snap my boyfriend’s neck.

Fucking hell….

That sent chills right down my spine. Of course, he was fine and apparently had it done every time he came in (!?!?!?!), but my decidedly vocal and sometimes over-bearing voice of reason just had an absolute conniption fit in my head: “AHHHH!! NO FUCKING WAY! That is soooo dangerous! You so DO NOT snap a person’s head like that, NO NO NO and NO! TOTALLY UNACCEPTABLE!!!! You could have broken his neck you damn retard!!! Every heard of fucking WHIPLASH!!! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING, YOU RAVING LUNATIC—–”

….and so on and so forth. My brain has a dirty mouth, too. And an explosively low tolerance for stupid.

So I clenched my teeth and just kind of watched, silently horrified as he repeated it on each side, recalling the numerous assassin/kung-fu movies where I’d seen the very same maneuver deftly applied to stealthily drop an opponent in one swift jerk. *shudder*

“Did you see what I just did there?” The asshat has the nerve to ask me, eager for me to parrot-back some bull’ from his previous schpeal and see how many pearls of wisdom I had gleamed.

“… looks like you just tried to break his neck….” I respond with a set jaw.

*chuckles* “Looks like you’ve been watching too many kung-fu movies!”


Maybe I’m overreacting here, but as far as I’m concerned, there is no conceivable benefit that would justify snapping someone’s neck like that (watch this video
at about 1:20. That’s what my boyfriend’s chiropractor did, but with even more of a rotation. Now, tell me, people: DOES THAT LOOK SAFE TO YOU???). Unlike your lower back/spine, which is quite snugly embedded and supported within your torso, your neck is just hanging out there, like a fucking twig, with your gargantuan head balanced on top. Being that it connects your brain to your body, I’d say that, since it is indeed a necessity to your continuing to live, but is nonetheless sadly lacking in protection from injury and incredibly fragile, under no circumstances should you do things like JERK and SNAP it around. I think that’s just fucking common sense.

If it made me feel ill to see it knowing only what I did then, it made me even more horrified to research the subject and find that, while “rare”, there is an INHERENT risk for stroke by means of tearing either or both of the two large arteries woven into the cervical vertebrae. The danger of stroke could also be increased by an individual’s pre-existing risk factors…like a long history of smoking (He only quit a few years ago after having smoked very heavily for two years straight in Japan, where he was also constantly bombarded with second-hand smoke, no doubt, and stressed out all-to-shit by the culture). The stroke may not happen at once, but tears in the arteries which do not in themselves cause a stroke would certainly precipitate one…in other words, set-off by neck manipulation, or created/exacerbated by neck manipulation over time.

And I was just worried about dislocated vertebrae and possible paralysis.

*grinds teeth*

His response, however, when I, as patiently and calmly as possible, asked him if he was aware of this risk:

I may stop having it done if I can establish with him that there is

some inherent risk. If I had to choose between a stiff neck and being

dead, I’d take the stiff neck, of course. So far, most of what I’ve

read about it is the usual back and forth you get with anything.

*grips monitor and thrashes about incredulously*

IF he can establish WITH HIM that there is SOME INHERENT RISK???????????? USUAL BACK AND FORTH??????

Oh, baby, you are sooooo much smarter than that! Where has your common sense gone? Your sense of self-preservation?? WHERE IS YOUR HEAD??

I can’t believe, frankly, that he doesn’t take the problem seriously on the basis of his own every-day sensibilities. NECK + SNAPPING = BAD…Period. Any reasonable person should know this.

It’s like wearing a seatbelt: sure, in all likely-hood, you could go the rest of your life without wearing one and never have a problem. BUT – and the “but” is really the key, here – at any given time, unpredictably and without warning, you could just as easily be in an accident that propels your hapless body through the windshield, or simply lets you get throttled and contorted because you’re floating about freely in the vehicle, and if you’re very, very lucky, you’ll make it out alive without permanent injury. If you’re not so lucky, you’ll live, but odds are you’ll never be the same again physically. Or, you could be dead. But the odds that you survive, uninjured, increase by huge orders of magnitude if you just do one, simple thing: WEAR YOUR FUCKING SEAT BELT!!!!!!

…or, in this case, DO NOT HAVE YOUR NECK SNAPPED. Pure and simple. The risk-to-benefit ratio is non-existent: all risk, no benefit.


More to the point, though, watching him have his neck “manipulated” like that just plain scared the shit out of me. It deeply frightens me in ways I can’t even begin to describe to think of anything happening to him, and the sensation of fear I felt for his life in that instant was so sharp I’m sure I couldn’t even have drawn breath for a few seconds after…

I remember the one time he was joking around and pretending his ‘pacemaker’ was going out because I was talking on my cellphone. It did not even register with me that we’d just been talking about cellphones and pacemakers when we left the clinic – rather, the first thing I thought of was that he often has difficulty swallowing because of his acid reflux, and that jumped immediately to the panic button which went “Oh my god, is he choking???” I didn’t freak out, per se, but he told me later (after I’d made it clear I failed to get the joke) that he’d never seen me look at him like that before and apologized for scaring me. Apparently I blanched pretty good and looked as horrified as I felt – which was pretty damned horrified. That was also the first time I realized even the thought of him getting hurt was not something I was going to be able to deal with very well….let alone the thought of him dying.

…and what my reaction to him “tells me” about my feelings for him, well….that’s for another entry.

*sigh* Admittedly, when I do get my hackles up about something, I know I tend to take it too far. Which is why I’m still mostly keeping my mouth shut. We haven’t yet had a real fight, and I don’t want to go overboard abou this, but I have a feeling this is going to be an issue. I will also admit that my own experience with medical doctors has been nothing but confidence-inspiring and almost always “good”, and so I have no personal negativity towards conventional medicine. On the other hand, I have never heard anything but negative views on CAM, and the few positive views always sound like a reverent glossing over of reality with superstitious nonesense. Not to mention the oodles of research which all point to the utter lack of viability and startling potential for serious harm. We’ve already kind of mutually decided that it would be best if I just don’t come with him to his appointments…and that we try not to talk about it. But it still bothers me. It bothers me because of the senselessness of the risk he’s taking. It bothers me because he already does a number of other things that are not condusive to his living a long and healthy life. And his not having a long and healthy life bothers me most of all. My boyfriend is no idiot – in fact, he’s easily one of the smartest guys I’ve ever met – but I just find the evidence, coupled with my own intuition, to be so overwhelmingly in opposition of these practices that I cannot help but feel a little dumbfounded as to how he can continue to tolerate them, no matter what his dislike for conventional medicine. But I do loathe being a nag, so now that I’ve said my piece, I’m going to wait it out and hope he realizes on his own that he’s putting his very life at risk for a stiff neck on the basis of pseudo-scientific quack-medicine. I really, really do…

Information about Stroke and Neck Manipulation:

Science-Based Medicine: Chiropractic & Stroke

Confessions of a Quakbuster:Links to blog articles, research papers, and news stories