RUSTY DRAPER: ‘Chewing the Fat in Mariposa’ new column
Ed. note: You wanted more Rusty stories. Here you go. Following his first book ‘Put the Kettle on Honey …,’ the Gravenhurst native and retired CFOR broadcaster in Orillia offers more amusing takes on his life, out of the fast lane, in this new bi-weekly column for us. We welcome his humour and sunshine sketches from the Mariposa town.
I confess I’m a wimp, a coward and I don’t do well with pain.
How does one navigate life meeting all its challenges?
Before COVID I’d take my wife to all my doctor’s appointments, as she and the Doc seem to talk the same language. The two of them seemed overjoyed at discussing my condition, medications and how they should be administered. This foreign language they used left me abandoned in the wood pile.
Nearly 50 years ago, I had this most debilitating pain in the neck (keep your thoughts to yourself.) The agony, the torment, and the misery were more than I could bear. As you can tell, I don’t like being a complainer or one who wants a lot of sympathy.
I had never been to a chiropractor, but it was highly recommended by a colleague I make an appointment.
I had heard the many horror stories of how they love to grab your neck and twist it one direction, then grab hold of your jaw with one hand, while placing the other hand at the back of your head, then with a smile on their face they crank your neck in the opposite direction.
Now, in order to keep myself out of court, let me make this crystal clear. Chiropractic practises have changed dramatically in half a century. Technology and science have removed much of what I’m referring to.
Well, the appointment was made and I nervously made my way for my first visit. The receptionist was so kind and helpful, reducing the fear raging through my body.
The first order of business was to fill out the questionnaire. There had to be 130 questions.
At that point I was asking myself: “Which is going to hurt more, the pain I now have in my neck, or the pain inflicted by my friend the chiropractor?”
Alas, it turned out that my view of this profession started to change.
It was a great experience and I felt so much better.
But — I haven’t told you the best part of the story.
After labouring over the questions, the receptionist politely asked me to turn left in the hallway and make my way to the change room to put on a blue gown. (You know the gown I’m speaking of.)
‘The adjustment room’
“Then when you’re ready,” she said, “go to the opposite end of the hall to the ‘adjustment room.’”
I found out quickly the word “adjustment” is quite commonly used in the world where chiropractors gather.
OK, step number one: Go down the hall and put on “that gown.”
After you disrobe, you have to tie the two sets of strings together, which is an easy task for those who weigh no more that 120 pounds. Since I weigh 200 — and plenty — it’s a harder row to hoe.
Finally, after much grunting and stretching to adorn this robin’s egg coloured garment, my next instruction was to stroll to the opposite end of the hall to “the room.” Immediately I sensed a noticeable draft making its way up my legs, and all the way up to my neck. I now know why they don’t put mirrors in those tiny change rooms.
Picture this for a minute. Being the muscular, powerful man you know I am, the gown left about a 12- to 14-inch gap up the back. This gown also looks much like a mini skirt with the hem about a foot above the knee cap.
Why do I spend so much on this mundane stuff? Well, on my way to the adjustment room I have to pass right by the reception room where there are other patients waiting their turn with the Doc. This is when tiny beads of sweat started dripping freely down my whole body. What is a man to do I ask?
You quickly turn your back to the wall and shuffle sideways with short little rapid steps.
As you pass the waiting room you sheepishly smile and give a polite wave.
At last you’ve reached your destination. The infamous adjustment room. And it’s time to take a seat in the black leather chair and await Dr. Relief’s arrival.
That’s when the last piece of the puzzle was placed. The shock of my bare butt slapping the cold leather chair awoke my senses.
At that exact moment the chiropractor enters to my howling laughter.
Of course I had to explain my outburst. I went on to tell him that I was extremely nervous as this was my first visit.
When I was instructed by the receptionist to gown up, I just assumed I was to take off all my clothes.
Don’t forget, it was just my neck that was the problem. By this time there were two of us having a good laugh.
The stroll back to the change room was just as awkward.
Rusty Draper is a former CFOR broadcaster who lives in Orillia
May 23, 2021 @ 2:00 pm
Ah yes, Rusty, the infamous “blue gown,” so loved by the medical profession. Recently I had to have an ultrasound imaging performed and was ordered to remove my clothes and put on the blue gown. I could keep my underwear on thankfully. I was given a blue gown with one of the ties missing. With no mirror, and having the ties behind you would challenge even a skilled contortionist such as Harry Houdini. Everything conspired to remove any sense of decency you might still possess.
Next, a trip to the urologist where I was ordered to remove everything and get into the… you guessed it, the infamous blue gown. “Leave my underwear on?” I asked hopefully. “Nope!” was the curt reply. I felt defenseless. Again no mirror and once again a tie was missing. Is a missing tie part of the standard design for blue gowns, I wondered? Led down the hall, past the open hallway door with lots of other patients going by, I entered the “examination room.”
My last shred of decency was stripped away when I was instructed to lie down on the examination table with my legs resting above my head in stirrups, splayed wide apart. I felt that I should be in labour at this point. Two young female technicians buzzed about…I was resigned to having lost any sense of decency that I might have left, consoling myself with the thought: “Who cares anyway? It’s all their doing.” I will spare you further details.
So, Rusty, I can relate to your dilemma. Perhaps we should get together and plan our strategy. Somebody really should do something about these horrible blue gowns.
May 23, 2021 @ 5:00 pm
WOW! It’s going to be fun to “hear” Rusty Draper’s voice again in print. I look forward to hearing all his stories — and to wincing right along with him at all the vagaries of life — including that hapless first visit to the chiropractor. Bring it on Rusty! We need you.
May 23, 2021 @ 10:22 pm
This is so great, Rusty. Looking forward to the next one. His book was great. Keep up the good stories.