Email #7, sent 7/9/98
My sister Celia loves her chiropractor, Penelope. Cici refers everyone—my father and mother have been to Penelope, as well as my brother, Michael, and my younger sister, Ann. I thought I’d have her check me out considering the crash I’d recently been in and the trouble I’ve had with my knee. What is really cool is that Penelope is a cyclist and is going to do the Death Ride. She’s been riding for years. She also showed me her right knee which has a nine inch scar from above her knee to below the knee cap which she told me is from a skiing accident from the year before where a snow boarder clipped her knee, leaving the knee cap hanging off to the side on a flap of flesh. Reconstructive surgery has her back on her feet and cycling but she can’t run.
What a Death Ride story.
Anyway, Penelope was happy to see a fellow Death Rider. And Celia tells everyone everything so Penelope knows a lot of my history and it was like meeting an old friend. She looks me over and goes to work on my feet adjusting the bones. One bone in my left foot is out of position, and this, Penelope says, could be contributing to the chronically strained knee. She massaged my feet and got all the bones adjusted and moving fluidly, except for that one bone which stubbornly stayed stuck. She moved on to work on my back and neck, which all seemed fine. Finally she tried again to set the bone in the foot back and it still wouldn’t go. I relaxed, tried visualizing it back in place and had her try once more, to no avail. Then as I sat up on the bench and brought my foot around ready to get up, I grasped the foot and felt for the offending bone and, “click,” it fell into position.
So I left her place gliding like one does after a good adjustment. Penelope also mentioned that the hard soles of clogs might not be the best thing for my feet. After leaving her I walked across town to buy new clogs that have rubber soles plus some sandals. Then I walked home.