Meet The Doctor

Living in a small rural area, hours away from the nearest city {by train}, the local medical doctor made a house call {yes, back then, doctors actually made house calls} and told him the bad news. My grandfather lived too far away from Chicago, and likely wouldn't survive the long train ride to obtain treatment there. The doctor then told my grandfather that his death was inevitable. However, he then went on to state that there was one chance my grandfather had to survive. He told him that the local chiropractor in town had good success with appendicitis cases. The doctor theorized that the chiropractor, by "freeing up nerve interference" could stimulate healing to the inflamed appendix. He offered to "go fetch the chiropractor" and my grandfather graciously accepted his generosity.

When the chiropractor arrived, my grandfather was in the fetal position, doubled over in pain, unable to move. After a brief evaluation, the chiropractor performed a spinal adjustment {but not before asking my grandmother to "fetch the chamber pail"}. As soon as the adjustment was made, my grandfather vomited up the toxins that were in his system. The chiropractor assured both my grandparents that this was normal, and that the next day he'd be feeling much better. Sure enough, the next day my grandfather was back to his old self, and resumed his regular daily activities.

I didn't know quite what to make of this story, having had no prior experience with chiropractic myself, but shortly after I heard it, my grandfather went in for abdominal surgery for a different matter. I'll never forget the puzzled look on the surgeon's face as he reported back to us afterward. "I've never seen anything quite like this before. This man's appendix has atrophied {withered away}. He should have died sixty years ago.". I then immediately recalled grandpa's appendix story, realizing that there must be something to chiropractic, and that his chiropractic treatment sixty years before had undoubtedly saved his life.

Flash forward to 1943. Now it is my father who's in need of chiropractic. As a 23-year-old man, he fell asleep while driving back to his military base. Crashing his car, he was given the bad news by the army doctors that he'd never function normally or even walk again. He was discharged from the army, something that rarely happened in the middle of World War II. However, the army had no use for my father in the condition he was in. So, they sent him home as a permanently disabled veteran. At the train station, my grandfather awaited my dad's arrival. He helped lift my disabled father from the train, wheeled him to the car, and put the wheelchair in the trunk. Only my grandfather didn't take his son home immediately to see his mother. Where did he take his son? That's right, to the chiropractor. As a matter of fact, it was the same chiropractor that had saved my grandfather's life years before. My father began a series of treatments. Gradually, over time, feeling began to return to my father's legs. His strength returned. I have a photograph of my father taken six months later. It's summer. He is stripped to the waist, a strong, muscular young man, wielding a pickaxe as he helps hand-dig his parent's basement to their new home. My father's paralysis was not only gone, he had experienced a total return to normal health, living the rest of his life as a normal functioning human being.

Now flash forward to 1978. This time it involves me, a student enrolled at Palmer College of Chiropractic. My wife and I, eager to start a family, were dismayed to find that she was unable to maintain a pregnancy. Multiple, heart-wrenching miscarriages followed, to the devastation of my wife and me. We went everywhere for help. To every specialist, every expert, we were told the same thing: "Some people just can't have children.". One doctor even told us "It must be God's will that you are not able to have any children. You must learn to accept that fact.". I'd had enough, and after the chiropractic miracles that had happened with my family, I urged my wife to seek chiropractic care. She did and began a series of treatments. The chiropractor discovered pressure on the delicate spinal nerves controlling her reproductive system and felt that this was likely the cause of the miscarriages. My wife's low back condition disappeared as did her painful menstrual cramps, and most importantly, she never miscarried again. We were blessed with two healthy boys, and know without a doubt that we owe their lives to chiropractic.

I am often asked why I became a Doctor of Chiropractic, and why I'm so passionate about what I do. Is it any wonder, given my family history? For all that chiropractic has done for my family, the dedication I devote to this glorious profession is the very least I can do.

My life without chiropractic? I could never imagine it. I would have no children. For that matter, I literally owe my own existence two-fold to chiropractic. Furthermore, I'd never have had the opportunity to meet and help the thousands of patients I've had the honor of treating over the years. I am honored to serve the profession that has served my family and me all these years!