My chiropractic miracle: The gift of time

Several years ago I was asked by one of my regular patients if I made home visits. I replied that I did when the situation called for it. He then asked what I was doing at lunchtime today. That day, he took me to meet a man named Jim.

Jim lived in a one-story ranch style home attached to the end of a 50-foot oxygen hose. The hose was attached to a machine that generated oxygen. Jim was captured in WWII and, while a prisoner of war, had pneumonia among other conditions. When he returned home, he worked refinishing gymnasium floors. As a result he was barely able to breathe at the time Jim and I met. He told me breathing to him was like trying to breathe through a drinking straw. He wanted to know if there was anything I could do to try to help him with the severe neck pain he was having. He was bluish in coloring due to the lack of oxygen.

I started working on Jim that evening after I finished with patients. I would go to his house three times per week. His neck pain improved, and he began to report that it was easier to breathe. Plus, his coloring was improving.

One day I received a call from Jim’s wife that he was in the hospital with pneumonia and would I consider coming there to help him. I did as requested and soon he was out of the hospital. I continued to make home visits.

One Monday evening as I arrived at Jim’s home, I noticed a lot of strange cars in the driveway. I carried my portable table to the door, which was answered by a crying woman. She apologized for not calling to cancel my visit because Jim was dying. I told her that I believed that I was supposed to be there, and she directed me to his bedroom.

Looking into that room revealed a panicked scene with Jim writhing on the bed fighting for air and his wife and daughter holding his hands. Jim was not on his foam wedge that he used to breathe better when he slept. He was too rigid.

At that moment, I had my biggest test as a chiropractor. I knew that he did not have the lung capacity for CPR, but I could not just stand there and watch. I said to myself, “You are a chiropractor, and you need to do what a chiropractor does.”

I analyzed what I needed to do and adjusted his axis. This produced immediate relaxation in him, and he calmed down. I was able to put the wedge under his back to help him breathe, then I did some lung reflex work on him as well.

Jim’s wife asked his daughter if she noticed anything different. His daughter replied that Jim’s hand was warming up. His wife said that was exactly what was happening to the hand she was holding.

After I did everything I could think of to help, I told Jim I would see him tomorrow night. He reminded me that I did not work on Tuesday afternoons. I smiled and told him that in this case I would be available. He thanked me for all I had done and for being his friend. We gave each other a hug, and then I went on home.

I found out from Jim’s family that Jim was able to get out of bed that evening. He then proceeded to talk with everyone there, saying what he had to say. Once he had done that, he laid back and calmly passed away. His family called to thank me for making such a bad situation better.

That night, I was shown what an adjustment can do—and that I had the courage to apply what I was taught. I am sure that my fellow chiropractors have their own stories like mine where they experienced the wonder of chiropractic. We have a wonderful gift in our ability to apply chiropractic for our patients, and we should how profound it can be.

Sincerely,

Geoff Mohn, D.C. (Davenport ’85)

 

Hard work, cigarette butts and the value of chiropractic

Dr. Joe and an infant patient

My dad, Jack, passed away last month, and not a day goes by I don’t think about him and the role he played in helping me become the person I am today. He worked as a landscaper, but that only begins to describe the range of jobs he took on to provide for me and my five brothers and sisters. And despite all the early mornings and long hours, often it wasn’t enough. But he never became discouraged–that just meant it was time to get creative.

There was one chiropractor in our hometown, and although I’ll never know the specifics, he and my father had an arrangement where my dad would do all the landscaping outside his business, and in exchange the doctor would provide free chiropractic for our family. I can remember once, after a huge snowstorm, my father grabbing the shovel and walked two miles uphill, through the unpaved streets, to shovel this man’s parking lot. That’s how important he thought it was for us to receive chiropractic care.

Now that doesn’t mean my dad did all the work himself; sometimes he would have me and my brother, Jon, help him. My job always was to pick the cigarette butts out of the lava rocks in front of the office. I HATED this job. I couldn’t kneel down on them because they hurt my knees, and stooping over for too long hurt my back. I hated cigarette butts, I hated smokers, I hated the stupid lava rocks and whoever put them there in the first place. But my dad was not one to negotiate. I can still hear his voice to this day: “Make sure you don’t miss any of those butts.”

Thankfully, I never associated any of that dislike with chiropractic. I went on to study chiropractic at Palmer, graduating twenty-five years ago, in 1988. Today, Grice Chiropractic has two offices in Pittsburgh, staffed by four Palmer grads. I love my work with our patients, and I love my work with the State Board of Chiropractic, where I get to work with great chiropractic professionals and oversee the integrity of chiropractic practice across the Commonwealth.

I like to think none of this would have happened were it not for my dad. He valued chiropractic so much that he was willing to do work extra, without pay, to ensure his children received the best care. If there is any advice I can provide to those considering a career in chiropractic, it is the same that my dad shared with me so many years ago: the value of chiropractic is something to be held in the highest esteem.

Dr. Joseph T. Grice (Davenport ’88)

http://www.gricechiropractic.com

http://www.facebook.com/gricechiropractic

The wonders of chiropractic

I graduated in 1978 at PCC and feel fortunate to have learned chiropractic adjusting and the Toggle Recoil. Back in those days, they allowed visiting doctors to teach seminars. I feel very lucky to have studied with Dr. Bernard Jenson (Nutrition), Dr. Raymond Nimmo (Receptor Tonus) Trigger Point Therapy. I forget the name of the French doctor that taught Polarity.

I was introduced to the Activator Method, SOT, Pierce Stillwagon, Thompson and more. I want to thank all my instructors for helping me realize that the power of healing comes from within, and it is better to promote health than to fight dis-ease. We become doctors of chiropractic to help our community and make our world a better place.

Learn and practice to be excellent in your healing art. The Spirit interfaces with our body and brain. The brain communicates this intelligence and energy with the body through the nervous system. Energy needs to move. Find the interference, remove it, bring more balance to the being, and health will follow.

– Doyle Rood, D.C. (Davenport ’78)