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)

 

My chiropractic miracle: One month to live

I grew up in the South Bay area of Los Angeles. I chose chiropractic as a life career because, once when I was very young and again when I was in high school, something happened to me that changed my life forever.

As an infant, I suffered with severe asthma. I was in and out of hospitals and medical offices, and was constantly on medication. I had to sleep in an inclined position, and someone had to stay up with me so that, when I couldn’t breath, they could turn on steam or rush me to the hospital.

At one point, at about the age of one, my parents were told that there was nothing more that anyone could do and that I had about one month to live. It was at this point that they decided to take me to a chiropractor. Dr. Charles Jones, a Palmer-trained chiropractor in Torrance, discovered that my top vertebra–the atlas–was jammed up against my skull from a birth trauma. This was causing interference with the delicate nerves that, among other things, control the lungs and entire respiratory system, causing them to dysfunction.

Dr. Jones gave me my first adjustment and, shortly afterwards, I began to cough up large amounts of phlegm and mucus. Within a week, and after a few more adjustments, I was breathing normally with no signs of asthma. I grew up with regular chiropractic care and enjoyed a very healthy, asthma-free life, thanks to chiropractic.

Now for the second part of the story. In high school, with no signs of any respiratory problems, I focused my life on competitive athletics. While playing football, I was injured and developed a serious condition known as a disc herniation. I had constant pain in my lower back and right leg. Over time, I couldn’t run and walking became difficult. After considering surgery (the only option, according to the surgeon), I again turned to chiropractic. It worked so well for me, and I was so impressed with the other miracles I saw in the doctor’s office, that I eventually went to chiropractic college myself. I now dedicate myself to helping others find the cause of their ailments and seek out natural, holistic solutions to health problems.

Donald J. Baune, D.C. (Davenport ’79)