I have begun going to a chiropractor here. It feels weird not seeing Dr. P. But this guy - he did a thorough exam and took x-rays of my crooked little hips and janky spine. The next day, I returned and he showed me the x-ray.
“And see that line right there?” He asked pointing his pencil at my illuminated right hip on his computer screen. “See how it’s a little thicker than the line on the other side?”
“Yeah – what is it?” I ask.
“Osteoarthritis. But it’s not to bad.”
“No?” “No – especially not for someone born in ’74.”
Needle on the record. SCREECH. What did he just say? I’m not sure how to respond so I sit there, smiling behind my mask. I’m in pain, so it’s more like a grimace. I need this whippersnapper so I stay even though he’s insulted my age.
To take the focus off of my age, I lean closer to the computer monitor and ask, "What's that large, black spot on the top left of the screen?" I ask, brow furrowing in concern.
"Gas!" He cheerfully replies.
"Gas." I repeat.
"Yep!" He launches into a cheery retelling of a tale told in his schooling.
When I go home, I look at his bio on the website with Andrea and it turns out, his schooling wasn't all that long ago. Andrea does some quick math and announces, “He’s 26!” I’m two decades older than he is so no wonder he thinks I’m a fossil.
His work is good. My back is no longer in constant pain, but I miss Dr. P. who had an uncanny knack of saying exactly what you needed to hear without you telling him anything. Andrea and I called him a “mouthpiece”. The young guy? He’s no mouthpiece but at least I’m feeling better.
On Saturday, Andrea and I went to Appomattox which is approximately 45-minutes from our home. We started our day with breakfast at a place called Granny Bee’s. It seemed to be brimming with locals. The day was grey with a steady drizzle. A man entered and the waitress greeted him with familiarity.
“Two?” She asked, hustling to fill his coffee cup.
“Just me and Jesus.” The man drawls.
Jesus didn’t have any coffee.
We went to the Appomattox Court House National Historical Park. There is a home on the site that belonged to the McLean Family and that’s where the Civil War ended. It was surreal to peer into the parlor and imagine Lee surrendering to Grant there. Just Lee, Grant and Jesus.
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