My knees are hurting so much from all the activity of winemaking – climbing ladders, running up and down stairs, jumping up and off of tractors – that I have begin walking with a noticeable limp. The pain is intense and I am popping Advil like candy corn. Usually, in the States, I see a chiropractor every week or so; I like having good posture and it helps me sleep a lot. Here, chiropractors are unheard of. I try not to complain but Andrea and Rosella, especially, notice that all is not well in Allieland. Unfortunately, they’ve never even heard of chiropractors.
Elio tells me that there’s a guy in Alba who does a kind-of chiropractic work. HE saw him when the back was getting really run down and it helped. Silvia is in her typical “Lifesaver” mode and makes a call for me to the guy and sets up an appointment. She gives me directions to the place – Alba is full of one-way streets and you have to enter the town at the right place to get to this office – what a lifesaver.
I make my way into town and park nearby. The office is one room of a private apartment. I have to wait out in the hallway of the building. When I come in, there is a small room with only a grey metal desk, a coathanger and an examination table. It is painted two-tone: dark grey up to about 5 feet off the ground, light grey above. There is a window out into the courtyard that is frosted. The space has all the charm of a triage room: the first thing that pops into my head is that “awful things could happen here.” The doc is mostly blind and in his early fifities. He tells me to get undressed and lay on the table. I resist the urge to deliver a chop to the base of his neck and run.
For the next hour, I am examined and recalibrated by some of the most amazing fingers with which I have ever come in contact. It’s a combination of massage, chiropractic adjustment and acupressure. This is amazing: it feels so good that I describe it later as “Almost, but not quite, better than sex.” Plus he didn’t try to change me the next morning. (Note to ex-girlfriends who may be reading this: That was a JOKE.) Fifteen minutes in, every part of my body is tingling. He spends fifteen minutes pressing on the pressure points in my ears; this is so relaxing that I fall asleep. I’m twisted and turned, prodded and ultimately told to get up. “It will be sore for a few days as your body releases stored toxins. Then you will feel better. One hundred euros.” Of course this is black market health care and I’ve come prepared with cash. “Also: see your chiropractor less often when you go back to the States. This way your body will get used to going longer without adjustment. For tonight: no dancing, no karaoke, no big meal. And, who is your preference for the election?”
Funny how everyone here wants to talk about the American election in two weeks. Though Belusconi is hugely popular here, most Italians are unabashedly pro-Obama. As I leave, I notice I am limping less. By evening, I am feeling really good.
I skip the karaoke and dancing, but do go out to the Saracca in Monforte with Silvia. Great meal.
The next day I am feeling waaaaay better. I’ve survived my first encounter with the health-care system! I wasn’t poisoned, I’m not a “volunteer” for a science experiment, I haven’t had odd parts of my body shaved and I lived to tell the tale. Call it a good day.
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