Today has to be the strangest thrift store experience I have ever had. For the record, I love 'thrifting' and getting to do so is always a thrill for me. I would not say I collect 'junk' per say but I do have a passion for the occasional oddity. My mother does not share the same curiosity over 'what will I find today.' I can not remember a single occasion where she expressed even the slightest desire to visit anything remotely resembling a secondhand shop.
So I was astonished when she appeared with my niece (my niece is always here on Tuesdays) in her arms and enthusiasm in her voice about visiting the nearest thrift store. After some convincing of my shaky limbs I agreed to not only come with; I even put effort into my appearance.
Of course this all went to rot when we got in the store. Normally I just push a cart like a walker and hope for the best. Today was the case of the traveling 'shakes.' Trying to focus on the cart with my hands meant my legs started shaking. The room started spinning and I needed a wheelchair asap. I have spent a great deal of time in my wheelchairs. Thus making me a pro at shopping in them. On days like today I do best in a wheelchair over attempting to safely move with a cane.
By the time we had reunited my niece was letting us 'know' she was done for the day. They got in the checkout line. I went to the book section to browse for childhood gems. Coming across one I wheeled myself over to the unheard of long line and asked the man to, 'please get my mother.' I had no way of knowing he was somebody who might be able to help me.
What happened in the course of all their conversation is lost to me. I am told he asked very politely, 'may I ask what is wrong with your daughter?' and she expressed no one really knew. By the time I actually joined her checking out he said, 'I have a book for you.' Evidently he had told my mother about his work. He eventually asked if he could give her the book on it as it could be of help for me.
Imagine my surprise to find out the man in the ratty old sweatshirt buying a second-hand painting was actually a chiropractor with over three decades of experience. Not only that but also the author of a book on inner healing which has led him to being a health & wellness speaker. He is semi-retired but gave us a contact card for the practice he handed over to his successor.
Looking at my 'tremors' (I call them shakes) he believes the problem to be neurological. "Have you had any trauma?" We informed him while parting ways in the parting lot I had been in a roll-over crash which required the jaws of life to remove me only a few months before my health fell apart. He was almost thrilled to hear this. To him this would explain so very much about what happened and where it went wrong.
The reactions as we drove off were mixed. My mother, as always, sincerely hopeful at finding an answer to all my health issues. My niece, a bit cranky from the long day. As for myself, I opened the book and started to read. After all, if it can cure me then why not give it a shot?
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