Get Back to Where You Once Belonged.
Today’s blog is written in celebration of my chiropractor.
For the past nine years I've had problems with my back. I can pinpoint the exact moment it started: early December in Winchester. I was rehearsing for the Theatre Royal's production of Puss in Boots (playing Ratty, henchman to the evil Ogre). The role called for me to perform a one-man Chinese Dragon dance; the sort of thing I do on an everyday basis. On this occasion I launched into it without a proper warm-up – and as I dropped onto my haunches to kick things off, my back seized up and I couldn’t move.
It was agony. I couldn’t stand up. All I could do was lay on the floor and make guttural noises.
I was terrified. The theatre company sent me off to a variety of specialists – and eventually, I learnt I had slipped a couple of discs in my lower back and strained my left shoulder. I was signed off of the panto (which was heartbreaking, as I was really enjoying myself) and sent home to recover.
I remember one of the cast members, Sarah Whittuck, driving me back to St. Albans, where my dad was due to pick me up. I spent the entire journey with my seat set at a 135° angle because I was unable to sit upright.
For the next couple of months I could barely walk or dress myself: it was a shitter.
Eventually, I was put onto an osteopath (rough translation: “East-German psychopath”) - and then to a chiropractor who still treats me to this day. Literally: I saw him this afternoon.
Today was a necessity. I was walking down a steep hill this morning, when I slipped on a pile of wet leaves and fell flat on my back. It looked like a top-class bit of slapstick; I was lucky I didn’t injure myself severely.
Let me give you a mark of how good my chiropractor is: my back was too bruised to treat properly, so he didn’t charge for today’s session and booked me in for another next week instead. How nice was that?
(All together: “Very nice.”)
Over the years we’ve talked about a lot. He asks me how my career is going – and whether I’ve broken the comedy / acting / musical market yet. I’ve told him about the best bits, the worst bits and the mediocre bits – and most of this has been discussed whilst I’m in my underwear and he’s in a shirt and tie.
(He also wears trousers.)
I’d stripped down to my boxers on every occasion until a few months ago, when I walked into the surgery and he said “Just the top half, David”. I started to worry that I'd been getting it wrong all these years and he hadn't had the heart to tell me.
I once gave him a flyer for a show whilst standing in my underwear. It felt like a cry for help.
...he still came to see it.
So, if you’re based in North Hertfordshire and have postural problems, look up the Hitchin Chiropractic Clinic. Give them a call and ask for Adam. He's a cracking chiropractor (no pun intended).
For the past nine years I've had problems with my back. I can pinpoint the exact moment it started: early December in Winchester. I was rehearsing for the Theatre Royal's production of Puss in Boots (playing Ratty, henchman to the evil Ogre). The role called for me to perform a one-man Chinese Dragon dance; the sort of thing I do on an everyday basis. On this occasion I launched into it without a proper warm-up – and as I dropped onto my haunches to kick things off, my back seized up and I couldn’t move.
It was agony. I couldn’t stand up. All I could do was lay on the floor and make guttural noises.
I was terrified. The theatre company sent me off to a variety of specialists – and eventually, I learnt I had slipped a couple of discs in my lower back and strained my left shoulder. I was signed off of the panto (which was heartbreaking, as I was really enjoying myself) and sent home to recover.
I remember one of the cast members, Sarah Whittuck, driving me back to St. Albans, where my dad was due to pick me up. I spent the entire journey with my seat set at a 135° angle because I was unable to sit upright.
For the next couple of months I could barely walk or dress myself: it was a shitter.
Eventually, I was put onto an osteopath (rough translation: “East-German psychopath”) - and then to a chiropractor who still treats me to this day. Literally: I saw him this afternoon.
Today was a necessity. I was walking down a steep hill this morning, when I slipped on a pile of wet leaves and fell flat on my back. It looked like a top-class bit of slapstick; I was lucky I didn’t injure myself severely.
Let me give you a mark of how good my chiropractor is: my back was too bruised to treat properly, so he didn’t charge for today’s session and booked me in for another next week instead. How nice was that?
(All together: “Very nice.”)
Over the years we’ve talked about a lot. He asks me how my career is going – and whether I’ve broken the comedy / acting / musical market yet. I’ve told him about the best bits, the worst bits and the mediocre bits – and most of this has been discussed whilst I’m in my underwear and he’s in a shirt and tie.
(He also wears trousers.)
I’d stripped down to my boxers on every occasion until a few months ago, when I walked into the surgery and he said “Just the top half, David”. I started to worry that I'd been getting it wrong all these years and he hadn't had the heart to tell me.
I once gave him a flyer for a show whilst standing in my underwear. It felt like a cry for help.
...he still came to see it.
So, if you’re based in North Hertfordshire and have postural problems, look up the Hitchin Chiropractic Clinic. Give them a call and ask for Adam. He's a cracking chiropractor (no pun intended).
