Every week at the chiropractic clinic where I work, we have a clinic-wide meeting. And at one of these recent meetings, an interesting topic came up: What kind of plan did we have for snow days? Would the LMPs be willing to come in? Which ones? Would it be worth it even if many of the clients didn’t show up? And as the group discussed the issue up one side and down the other, I sat and listened and thought to myself that if irony were an alternative universe, I was right smack dab in the middle of it.
Do you have any idea of how many clients I treat for whiplash every week? How many people out there are on PIP claims because some genius out there rear-ended them while texting? Well, if you’re reading this, you’re probably an LMP, and thus you know these facts intimately. And as a related question, do you remember Christmas week two years ago when it snowed bucket- loads in Seattle, and the city government failed to do just about anything to clear the damn roads, and the whole area was a death-trap because ice ruts combined with snow-stupid drivers does not a fairy tale ending make? I remember it well, and shudder every time I do (I lived near and worked at Northgate Mall, an icy holiday hell).
And yet, I don’t know. Ironic it may be, but if my job was in jeopardy, would I risk my neck (or a lifetime of neck issues) for a $25 massage? Two of them? Sometimes I think we have enough irony in our work. Many of us are gifted healers, yet we ourselves do not get the help we need. Mostly self-employed or workers in small businesses we often do not have health benefits, unless we have them through a spouse or purchase a major medical policy that is virtually useless unless we are lying at death’s door. We care so much for clients that we are too exhausted to do regular trades on each other. Or we care so much for clients that all we want to do is get out and get home and clear our energy instead of staying and doing trades. Those of us who work for others rarely get to sit down and eat calmly for even 15 minutes between talking about after-care and flipping rooms.
And the list goes on and on. We are healers, and yet as creative and balanced as we work to be, help others work to be, it seems that our own healing always falls last. I don’t know the answer to the problem–finances, employers, and the economy dictate choices we don’t always want to make–but I know it’s wrong. We preach what we preach for a good reason. Isn’t the practice part of the equation supposed to be a virtue? Because if it isn’t, I’d really like someone out there to provide me with some of those padded bar thingys that hold serious drivers in place… and a big ole truck, preferably with a winch.
