Healing With Ease

chiropractic.

INTRODUCTION

Above the desk where I write is a quote by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.

Find a subject you care about and which in your heart you feel others should care about. It is the genuine caring, and not your games with language, which will be the most compelling and seductive element in your style.

The purpose of this book is to enlighten and inform people about the most misunderstood health care profession in the world today – chiropractic. This book will help you understand what chiropractic is, what it is not, and how it can help you and your family live healthier and happier lives.

Due to more than 100 years of propaganda, slander and misinformation, many people today hear the word chiropractic and think they know what it is, but my experience has shown me that they really don’t. They’ve heard and read a little bit about it, and maybe even experienced it. But rare is the person who truly knows what chiropractic is about. Because of these preconceptions and misconceptions, I have found it very challenging to explain chiropractic in a five-minute talk or even in an hour lay lecture. So I decided to write a story about the words and ideas that inspired me and others to become chiropractors. The case histories used as examples are based on true experiences. They come from my own practice as well as from other chiropractors. Names have been changed to protect privacy. I am grateful for their stories and permission to use them.

This book is about one of the most unknown, misunderstood and neglected concepts in health care – the function of the spine and nervous system and their relationship to health and vitality. And if it motivates even one parent to bring his or her child to a chiropractor, I have done my job.

I understand that not everyone cares about health and longevity. Some people just want relief from their pain or condition. If your objective is pain relief, this book will still help you. If you want to understand your pain, symptoms, condition or disease better, or perhaps why you haven’t been able to heal or recover from an injury or illness, this book will definitely help you even more. If your goal is to regain your health or to be as healthy and alive as possible, then you will gain much from reading and understanding the words within these pages.

When I originally wrote the book, I added a long bibliography with suggested readings and references to dozens of published scientific papers. I decided to forego the list and let my words speak for themselves. It’s easy to find information these days. Instead, I appeal to your reason and common sense. Similarly, I turned the book from an authoritative, instructional and sterile textbook into a story with dialogue designed to get you to think.

I believe that truth cannot be taught, but must be caught, and it is my sincere hope that you catch the simple, beautiful and profound truths within chiropractic.

As you read, I ask you to challenge your thinking and logic. Let go of your preconceptions and judgments as much as possible, think simply and sensibly, and have an open heart and mind. Thank you.

Rick Hall, D.C.

September, 2015

A mind that is stretched to a new idea never returns to its original dimensions.

Oliver Wendell Holmes

1

The old wooden rowboat creaked and groaned. It was Mike’s turn to row. I sat peacefully in the bow, my gaze shifting slowly back and forth between the multi-colored sunrise and our catch of the morning, eight huge blue-claw crabs and three eels. I was a 10-yearold boy in a creek with my 12-year-old brother and no one else around.

At my feet were two buckets teeming with action. The eels fascinated me, but were much too slimy to play with. The blue-claws, very much alive in the other bucket, offered some challenging games. Some of them had claws bigger than my hands, so like any foolish young boy, I’d either pick one up and see how close to my nose I could hold it, or just flick my fingers at them in the bucket, challenging them to grab me. This was a great game until one latched on to a finger. Once you experienced the power of a blue-claw crab, you knew never to let one get too close to anything it could grab.

About five minutes away from our dock, while playing with the crabs, my chest tightened and my breathing shortened. Agitated, I asked Mike to row faster. He started to ask why, but with one look at my face he knew. Within 30 seconds, I could hardly breathe. I had left my inhaler on my night table. Mike rowed as fast as he could.

When we reached the dock, we saw a stocky man with thick, fuzzy sideburns – my Uncle Earl. He bellowed out, How are my two favorite nephews on this beautiful day? Although I hadn’t seen him in nearly two years, he was easy to recognize. He looked like a shorter and wider version of my dad. He and dad had the same piercing blue eyes and warm smiles, but he and dad didn’t get along too well, which is why I rarely saw him. He lived out west, but during the summer they shared this big bay front house they inherited from my grandparents. On this day, I couldn’t smile or return his greeting. His big grin quickly changed to concern when he saw me. He grabbed and tied the bowline, and helped me off the boat. I was choking and my face was beet-red. I was nearly in a state of panic. He carried me to the house.

Inside, mom got me my inhaler, gave me two pills and gently rubbed my forehead. I’d had these severe asthma attacks for about five years now. Dad was a pediatrician, so he’d taken me to half a dozen specialists, and I’d tried just about every kind of medicine available. Nothing helped though, other than the temporary relief offered by the steroid inhaler. Recently, the attacks were more frequent and more severe.

Uncle Earl knocked quietly and walked into my bedroom while mom tried desperately to soothe my fear. After questioning mom about my asthma, he asked if he could check my spine. He explained to us that sometimes, due to stress or trauma, the bones of the spine move out of place a bit, irritating the spinal cord and nerves. He told us that asthma was a neurological condition because the nervous system is what controls dilation and constriction of the bronchi and bronchioles. He told me that what he did all day long at his job was check people’s spines and make adjustments to relieve the pressure on the nervous system. He said there is a miraculous wisdom that runs the body, and that it uses the nervous system to control and coordinate everything that occurs in the body. Mom was unsure, but knew the fear and treatments I’d been enduring, and decided to allow Uncle Earl to check my spine.

He found a very painful spot on the left side of my neck. This top bone in your neck is really stuck, Adam. If it’s OK with you, I’d like to adjust it from left to right, he said. Mom looked at him as though he had a loaded gun pointed at my head, but I said OK. He grabbed my head and neck in his thick, hairy hands, smiled and asked me to look up at him. At that moment, he tugged on my neck and I heard a loud crack. Mom let out a short Oh, my goodness and stared intently at me, as though she expected me to die on the spot. As surprised as I was at the loud noise, I was even more surprised that it didn’t hurt at all.

I fell asleep and woke up three hours later. I felt great, and I never had another asthma attack.

I never got to thank Uncle Earl. When I woke up after he had adjusted my neck, he was gone. I found out a few years later that he and my dad had a huge argument that day. They haven’t spoken since, so I haven’t seen my uncle for more than a decade.

The timid never find true love and happiness, but the bold do.

Paul Twitchell

2

It was the middle of June, and I packed my Chevy pick-up with a few weeks’ worth of clothes, camping and hiking gear, and my guitar. I had just graduated from college, and was accepted and excited to start medical school in the fall. I had a few weeks to travel, and I planned to see some of this magnificent country.

The trip was filled with wonderful people, phenomenal scenery, and lots of great music. I camped out in beautiful national and state parks, and saw moose, bear, elk, deer, buffalo, coyotes, owls, hawks and eagles. I played guitar and sang around campfires with other travelers from all over the world.

Every night, weather permitting, I loved to lie on my back and gaze at the brilliant stars in the night sky. Often my thoughts were of dad and Uncle Earl. I realized that in many families there are often harsh words that lead to broken relationships, but the few times I asked my dad about his brother, he rarely told me much. He would say things like, I don’t want his name mentioned in this house, or He’s crazy. There’s nothing to talk about.

Mom told me stories about how close dad and Uncle Earl were as kids. For many years, they played baseball and football together. They loved making music together, dad on piano and Uncle Earl on guitar. Even after dad graduated medical school and became a pediatrician, they were as close as brothers could be.

Things changed when Uncle Earl decided to go to chiropractic college. He and dad would argue day after day about the validity, and to dad, the absurdity of chiropractic. Dad would call Earl a witch doctor, and Uncle Earl would call dad a closed-minded fool. Gradually, their closeness turned to bitterness and disdain, and on my tenth birthday, the day Uncle Earl adjusted me, they stopped talking altogether. Uncle Earl never returned to Long Island. Mom and my Aunt Cathy still remain friends, and talk on the phone once or twice a month, mostly keeping each other up to date on the lives of their children and grandchildren.

One night in Yellowstone National Park, I heard a band of coyotes howling and made a spur-of-the-moment decision to visit Uncle Earl, in spite of dad’s warnings not to. I wanted to see for myself just how crazy my uncle was, so early the next morning I packed up my gear and headed south from Yellowstone to Southold Springs, Colorado, where my uncle now lived.

On the second of July, a little after noon, I drove into the charming little town of Southold Springs. Flowers bloomed, and huge shade trees lined the streets. In the heart of town, I noticed a sign outside a classic gray clapboard Victorian that read Earl Hale, D.C., Catherine Hale, D.C., Emily Hale, D.C., Megan Thompson, D.C., and James Thompson, D.C., Chiropractors. These were my aunt and uncle, my two cousins, and Megan’s husband, Jim.

I was nervous, and not quite ready to see anyone yet, so I drove past the big house and parked a few blocks up in front of The Coronet, a rural luncheonette. Inside to my left were eight stools along a counter, and to the right were six booths. In between were roughly a dozen tables. A teenaged, gum-chewing waitress named Jennie led me to a booth with torn blue vinyl seats and a newspaper-sized menu.

I ordered a tuna sandwich and a chocolate shake, and asked Jennie if she knew of any cheap hotels in town. Just in case my Uncle Earl was really crazy, I wanted to sleep in a safe place. She told me of a reasonably priced bed and breakfast about a mile outside of town. After lunch, I handed Jennie my credit card, and upon seeing my name, she quickly asked, Are you related to Dr. Earl Hale? I told her I was his nephew, and asked her how she knew him. I’ve been going to him my whole life, she replied.

"Going to him? I asked. She looked at me quizzically and said, You know, getting adjusted. She didn’t look weird to me, so I asked her why she got adjusted. To be healthy. Everybody does." Everybody does? What in the world does that mean? I thought. Do you have a back problem? I asked. No silly, I just go every week. I couldn’t understand this, so I pressed, "But why? She looked a little frustrated with me, but answered, I don’t know. I just always have. Since I was a baby."

I left the luncheonette, got in my pick-up, and pulled into a nearby gas station. When the elderly gas attendant looked at my credit card, the same thing happened.

You related to Doc Earl?

Yes, he’s my uncle.

He and I have been good friends for almost 20 years. We fish together up in Eagle River every summer. You must be Ward’s son.

How did you know that? I asked.

Oh, he told me of his brother and their falling out. I’m sorry. Families should stick together.

I wanted to learn more about my dad and his relationship with his brother, so I asked him what he knew about their falling out.

Well, mostly that your dad didn’t understand chiropractic, but you better ask your uncle about all that.

Don’t tell me you get adjusted too, do you?

Every week. And my wife, kids and grandkids, too.

I thanked him and drove off, still a bit baffled. I stopped in a convenience store to get a few things. I asked the clerk, Do you know Dr. Earl Hale? Yes, he said, I see his daughter Emily every week.

This seemed so odd to me. Why do you go every week? Do you have a back problem?

He answered, Well, I used to, but not anymore. When something works, you stick with it.

I smiled, paid my bill, and walked out in disbelief. What a strange place, I thought. I drove about a mile up a long, winding mountain road to the B & B.

How we do one thing in life is how we do everything.

T. Harv Eker

3

In fewer than five minutes, I pulled into a long driveway that led to the Southold Springs Hilltop Bed and Breakfast. It was a large white house with a wrap-around porch and two big Newfoundland dogs lying lazily on the front lawn. There was an orchard in the back yard, and about a dozen gigantic evergreen trees around the front and sides of the house. For all I knew, they could have been redwoods. They each looked more than 100 feet tall.

The hand-carved, wooden sign over the front door read, Sam and Edna Sprague, Proprietors. Edna Sprague greeted me at the front door. She looked very old and seemed quite proper. Her white hair was neatly tied in a bun and her blue plaid dress was crisply pressed. She asked me quite a few questions as we walked inside. Where was I from? What was I doing in Southold Springs? What kind of work did I do?

When she discovered I was Earl and Cathy’s nephew, her entire demeanor changed. She acted like I was a celebrity or an old friend. She got all flustered and made a big fuss over me. She called out to her husband, Sam, this is Adam Hale, Earl and Cathy’s nephew. Sam slowly walked towards us. He looked a lot like the old guy in Grant Wood’s famous painting, with the pitchfork and wrinkled, stern face. He wore faded denim overalls, chewed on an old cigar and wore a serious expression.

He grasped my hand very firmly. It’s a pleasure to meet you, son. I’m Sam. Hi. I’m Adam Hale. You know my Uncle Earl?

Everybody around here knows your uncle, son. After you’re settled in, I’ll tell you a little story about him. He paused about five seconds, then asked seriously, Why are you stayin’ here when you’ve got family in town?

I didn’t know quite what to say, so I said, I want to surprise them later today or tomorrow. They don’t know I’m here yet.

They both looked at me a little unsurely. Edna smiled politely and showed me to my room upstairs.

After a shower and a little nap, I went downstairs. Edna was cooking in the kitchen, so she suggested I join Sam on the porch.

I thought I’d try some down-home talk. What kind of trees are those big ones around the house, Sam? They sure are beautiful.

They’re Ponderosa Pines, he answered proudly, like he created them himself. My great-grandfather planted them over 100 years ago. People said they wouldn’t live at this altitude, but there they are.

I guess you’ve lived here your entire life then, huh? I kind of liked this lazy, late afternoon, front porch talk.

Born in that very room you’re sleepin’ in tonight. And six of our eight children were born right here, too.

I hope that’s not the original bed still up there, I thought. Wow. I bet you’ve seen a lot of changes around here through the years.

He looked at me as though he was trying to figure me out. Sure have, lots of changes. My father owned one of the first cars in town. Everybody laughed at him, saying that a motorized carriage would never catch on. It was the noisiest darn thing you ever heard. I thought I detected a slight smile from his serious face as he mentioned the car.

Sam, the first car? When were you born?

Nineteen-ten. He paused and spoke slowly. I can still remember him drivin’ it up this hill, all noisy and smoky. I was just a small boy then. I think I was feedin’ the horses when I heard this awful racket comin’ up the hill. There was Pa, behind the wheel of this slow-movin’, smoky noisemaker. He chuckled a bit, caught himself, and then got serious again.

Sam seemed like an old-timer, but 105? I had no idea he was that old. Maybe he could shed some light on the strangeness of Southold Springs and my Uncle Earl. "I guess you were here when my uncle first moved to this town. It seems like a