Foote’s Hole (a serial III)
“D’ya like some ice water?” the chiropractor continued, in exceptionally good humor as if not the slightest bit put off by having to repeat the offer.
Anson replied at length, “No. Thank you. I have bottled water. See? Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. Ok now before I hear anything from you about your problem I should explain to you a little bit about how I work ok?”
“Ok.” Anson returned eagerly.
“Well here’s the pitch.” Dr. Heath paused and seemed to gather himself, taking a big healthy drink of ice water, clearing his throat and then crossing and uncrossing his totemic legs. “It’s a common belief among physicians that verbal input form the patient is the cornerstone of any good and accurate diagnosis. You with me?”
“I am very with you.”
Lowry Heath blinked. “Good. The conventional wisdom is a sort of the-patient’s-sensory-system-is-a-more-effective-analyst-of-his-or-her-pain-than-a-highly-trained-and-experienced-physician-with-all-his-or-her-instruments-and-gauges-and-expertise-and-numerous-advanced-degrees-from-well-respected-chiropractic-and-other-medical-institutions-could-ever-be…type…wisdom.” He cleared his throat and his fleshy face gathered itself into a bit of a wince.
“I hear you loud and clear.”
“To all of which I reply with a resounding and unequivocal, ‘INCORRECT!’ What these ‘licensed’ ‘physicians’ fail to account for are the many ways in which our perceptions of our selves and our pain are skewed due to our excessive proximity and exposure.”
“I’m sorry,” Anson replied, and blinked.
“Well to put it s-simpler the uh more time we spend analyzing a given thing in this case our pain the more we can lose our focus and perspective on that very thing we’re trying gauge.”
Blink. Blink.
“Ok. Lemme give you an example. You’re looking at a photograph.”
“I am?”
“Hypothetically.”
“OK. Of what?”
“Doesn’t matter. A portrait. Of yourself.”
“Oh! Ok!”
“Now say you get up real close to the picture to examine say a scratch; just a minor scratch just below your left eye.”
“I don’t have a scratch below my left eye,” Anson returned, as a matter of fact. “But I do –“
“Don’t tell me!!” the chiropractor quickly shot back.
“…sorry, sir”
“Don’t be. Just, you know, I’ll, you’ll understand when I explain it.”
“Fire away!”
“Ok. So you’re looking at this hypothetical scratch below your left eye and you’re really looking at it and you’re staring at it and you’re examining its shape, its contours, the redness of it in contrast to your clear white skin…“
“Thank you.”
“Now – you’re welcome – now imagine you’ve been staring like this at this scratch for weeks. Just this scratch. Just looking right up close at it. For weeks. Until at the end you finally step back. You step back and all you can see is this big giant red scar instead of your face.”
“…”
“…”
“What?”
Dr. Heath paused, still and breathless, betraying none of his terror. “Ok. You know how some thin people even though they’re really very thin and almost unhealthily thin but when they look in the mirror all they can see are the few places in which they’re slightly less than really terribly thin?”
“I am sitting here completely relating to you.”
“It’s like that.”
“What’s like what?” Anson blinked again.
“Look. I’m trying explain that if a patient’s spent a long time with a given injury (and by a long time I mean long enough to actually go and see an actual chiro-doctor) that their perspective on the pain will be, very likely, blurred and their consequent self-diagnosis equally blurred by a lack of perspective and therefore not as trustworthy data as the cognoscenti of physicians would have one believe.”
“Mhm.” Anson said and did not blink.
“All right just will you just trust me and not tell me what’s wrong you?”
“Absolutely!”
