Shaking Down the Stars

"An ass may bray a good while before he shakes the stars down."
-George Eliot (1819–1880), British novelist, editor. Romola, ch. 50 (1863)

A few weeks ago, Dr. Kat and I hosted a spinal screening at the annual Round Robin Tennis Tournament, a charity event that raises money for a tennis camp for poor kids. It was held at Carter Barron and several famous tennis players (not Rafael!) played with the donors. Bob Ryan, the local weatherman, played a few rounds and Adrian Fenty, the DC mayor, even showed up and strolled around the court a few times with his coterie.

Dr. K and I were there to check people's spines and educate them about the benefits of chiropractic - i.e., to recruit patients. Only two people actually scheduled a follow-up appointment and one of them called a few days later to cancel. The other, however, arrived last Monday for his first appointment. And he is an ass.

He complained about the stairs. He complained about the chairs. Repeatedly. When Dr. K came out to greet him, he snarled, "These are absolutely the worst chairs for an office like this!" Now I love our chairs, huge retro-looking cushy orange things that are oh so comfy. So when I heard him say this, I gritted my teeth and hunched further into my keyboard.

Every time he has come in, he has griped about the lights, the air conditioning, the carpet. He's just an all-around unpleasant fellow. Now, Dr. K has really been working on being unapologetic when she recommends care to people. Sometimes a doctor with "poverty-consciousness" will feel bad recommending the regular course of corrective care because it is expensive, inconvenient, etc. When we went to see Ogi a few weeks ago, he told us to be bold.

Well, this clown got Dr. K so peeved that she completely abandoned any shred of apology. She just told him, "Look, this is what your body needs to get better. Obviously I'm not getting through to you so I'm just going to transfer you to another chiropractor." That made him sit up straight!

Some people just don't respect you until you abuse them.

Now he's just the cuddliest kitten you ever saw. He actually smiled and laughed today when he came in. But that's not the coolest part.

After his adjustment, while I was scheduling him, Dr. K and he were chatting about her interest in chiropractic pediatrics. "And it's so great," Dr. K said, "because Crittergal here is also studying to be a doula."

"REALLY?!" Mr. Ass's white hair shot up even farther off his head. His eyes were big and round. Turns out his father is the one who invented the term doula. He's this bigwig neonatologist who was traveling in South America and noticed that women attended by a non-medical non-family member labor assistant had remarkably easier, more satisfying births. When we looked him up in all of my childbirth books, his articles, papers and books were noted dozens of times! One of my textbooks is even written by the guy.

So for the rest of the day, I've just been floating in this cloud of how-crazy-is-that. I know I'm never going to get to talk to the guy or anything but it was such an unexpected coincidence that you have to sit back and say, "Wow. That is cool." One of those shining stars that make the braying of an ass worthwhile.