After feeling rather miserable about my diagnosis from the chiro this week, I pulled myself together, told myself my intuition was probably absolutely right, and booked myself into my osteopath, who I know and trust.

For those of you that commented on yesterday's post, thankyou. You all confirmed and validated that bone crackin' from a money hungry chiro ain't the way to go, and that therapy that considers mindfulness, breathwork, and fascae is where I need to lean - as well as a therapist I trust.

Jacques - not his real name, but close enough - is my age, and grew up in the same area, so we connect on many levels - the ocean (he arrives fresh after a surf, ten minutes late), music, travel (I ended up in Imsouane, Morooco, because of him). He hugs me when I arrive, grabs a cuppa herbal tea, opens the xray and frowns. I stand behind him. A man with salty wet hair I can trust.

Imsouane, Morocco

'I can't see anything' he said. 'Lumbar spine looks good. What's the issue?'

I explain how the chiro tells me I'm off centre, that she needed to make my pelvis straight and my spine straight. That'll take eight weeks at least and a lot of dollar. Jacques is expensive - all therapists are - but he'd never book me in for a session I didn't need. Sometimes the sessions run over and I still get charged the same.

He looks at me and grimaces. 'But that doesn't even make sense' he says. 'All bodies are different. And people with severe spinal deformities make do. The body adjusts.'

I could hug him. I sit down and relief. 'Yeah RIGHT' I say, thanking him for validating what my gut was telling me - not just that though, years of learning via yogic practice. All bodies are different. We look closer, at the gap between the verterbrae where the nerves are. I've got lovely gaps between them. My spine is okay. But the one where the pelvis is, right down low? She told me that was problematic, because it wasn't black on the xray, but shaded white.

We pull up 'normal healthy spine xrays' on Google. They aren't much different. Jacques thinks it's simply the shadow of the pelvic bone. By god, he's right.

Imsouane from above.

'You gotta be careful about getting xrays after 50 anyway', Jacques says. 'They often turn up things you don't need to see.'. I feel good because my xray is actually saying that there ain't nothing wrong me me - no cracking bollocks for this old girl, thankyou. And I feel good because everything I'd been telling myself was right.

Jacques treatment is a relief - I walk out feeling freer in my spine and hips. He listens to my body with quiet, gentle hands. We both look at the moon that's early up in the blue sky, framed through the clinic's windows. I tell him about the whales I saw. We talk about the strangeness of marriage, and how much more beautiful it gets the longer you're together. He talks about the desert. When I turn right instead of left he asks if my head is still in Morocco.

There is a crack or two. Sometimes his dialogue slides me into layers of myself - skin, flesh, fascae, muscles.

He writes a referral for an ultrasound 'just in case', and tells me to do squats. 'You gotta slay those muscles' he says. I promise to do just that, and as soon as I jump in the car, I message the chiro I won't be coming back.

With Love,

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