Calling Doctor Howard, Doctor Fine, Doctor Howard

“Ouch, damn back.”

I say stronger words than those when I complain of a back pain, so why not have a formal conversation with my back?

Uh, perhaps because it cannot talk back. My back don’t give me no back talk. That sounds as if it could have been a great 50s R & B song. Which is a perfect segue because I was thinking about something from almost that long ago related to my aching back.

If there was one thing my brothers and I could agree upon, it was our devotion for “The Three Stooges” and their memorable bits. Now even 50 years later if one of my brothers mentions a backache — other than heart problems back disorders are legendary among the five of us brothers — it immediately turns into a Stooges’ bit.

“Oh, you got a weak back?”

“Yeah.”

“How long have you had it?”

“Oh, about a week back.”

When your back gives you loads of misery it seems humor is a good potion to try when you don’t have something stronger on hand, like Valium or Morphine. However, a good “adjustment” sometimes helps too.

I don’t get my back adjusted anymore because I am afraid my spine would snap like a drought-stricken corn stalk. But when I was younger and would get muscle spasms in my back, a trip to my doctor or the old retired chiropractor would seem pretty helpful.

Even in my mid-20s I would get back spasms. Some probably had to do with my line of work as a firefighter. Or perhaps they came from other activities — like well, going to ice cream socials, right. My doctor was an osteopath, which is a doctor trained in medicine but takes a more holistic approach to treatment. One such approach is giving adjustments like chiropractors do. These adjustments were quite helpful. I kept getting them for quite awhile until my doctor started having his own back problems. Too bad the physician couldn’t heal himself.

I also used to go see the old retired chiropractor who lived just up the street from me. He wouldn’t practice unless someone would come by and ask, and then he only charged a $10 bill for his service.

This is one of these days I have an aching back. From what, I don’t know. I have just had these back spasms since I was a young adult. Maybe these spasms originated 30 years ago we loaded ammunition on our ship for our 3-inch cannons. The ammo weighed about 50 pounds apiece. Once, when we were leaving drydock we stopped at Seal Beach and picked up all of our ammo. I was part of a human chain loading those suckers all afternoon and into the night. Another time we loaded from a “Vert-rep,” for “vertical replenishment.” This meant unloading shells from a huge helicopter and stowing them about three decks below. I don’t know if either loading caused any permanent damage. I doubt it did. It sure made me respect the hell out of having smaller weapons to fire, if you get my drift.

I guess I will try treating myself the old-fashioned way — with an Old Fashioned! No, just kidding. I will take my medicine as prescribed and then jump in bed and pull the covers over my head if that doesn’t work. I will also try to laugh by thinking of the Three Stooges and their ridiculous bits. At least Doctors Curly, Larry and Moe don’t charge you outrageous rates and send you back for test after test after test, with seemingly no result in sight. Of course, they have no malpractice insurance either. Nyuck, Nyuck, Nyuck.