200 Years

The 1878 edition of Webster's Unabridged Dictionary had no listing for chiropractic.

2078: 200 years later

She selected another listing in the yellow pages, the book that had been -- delivered to homes since telephone service began in 1926, now delivered on compact disk by electronic transfer; the synthesized voice of Doris Day gave the next number: "Fran Howell, D.C., 234-3478."

She pressed the dial key and the number rang through.

"Good afternoon! Dr. Howell's office, may I help you?"

"Hello, this is Ayrha Sullivan, and I am calling to make an appointment for my baby, Tiffany."

"Yes, the doctor can see you both next week -- we have a waiting list."

"I understand, but my daughter has what I think is whooping cough, and I must do something immediately."

"Oh that is serious," she said. "Let me get Dr. Howell right away."

The earpiece switched to soothing music while she waited for the doctor to answer.

"Hello, this is Dr. Howell."

"Yes, I am Ayrha an my daughter has whooping cough, I think."

"Didn't you have her immunized?" asked Dr. Howell.

"No."

"Chiropractors have not cared for infections since the late 1990's and, quite frankly, I am surprised that you have been able to hide your daughter from the Federal Health Agency ... "

"You wouldn't call them about this, would you?"

"Well, I am supposed to ... My board could make it difficult for me if I don't follow procedure. There is a new antibody medication that blunts the initial response to viral infection. You should call your family doctor and talk to him or her about that," she said.

"When I was a kid my grandfather used to stay at the house through the night and adjust us. I have already called half of the chiropractors in town. Couldn't you make a house call?" asked Ayrha.

"Alright, I'll do what I can, but it must remain between us," replied Dr. Howell."

She hung up the phone and went about making supper while the kids pretended they were camping.

Little Ben, now five, teased his older sister, Halley, "You'd better wear a gooder coat than that or you'll catch ammonia," he said.

Era, tickled by their antics, lumbered into the living room pretending to be a bear. The kids scurried into hiding places, but Tiffany sat on the floor crying and then sputtered into a barking cough.

"Oh my unhappy little camper," Ayrha said as she picked her up, "You need someone to find you a hiding place."

Tiffany's cough slowly subsided and she began to smile again as her mother found each of the hiding brothers and sisters. Then, Ayrha sat in the rocking chair and began to nurse her baby.

About half an hour later, her daughter stopped nursing and nestled against her, preparing for sleep. She rose from her chair quietly, trying not to distrub the baby; she was so cute, her eyes were closed, an effort on her part to cooperate with her mother's wishes, her wisps of brown hair darkened by perspiration, breathing guardedly yet calmly against her mothers body. And so her mother, Ayrha, sang a sweet lullaby while slowly walking towards the crib, white with painted balloons and unicorns, adorned with teddy bears and cuddly toys. Baby Tiffany's room was filled with the fragrance of eucalyptus leaves and steam formed on the edges of the window panes, visible only because the room was dark and the yard light was on. Soon Tiffany drifted off to sleep and her mother tucked her into her crib, covering her with the soft quilt made by her great-great-grandmother Dreckman.

About two hours later, Dr. Howell came and adjusted little Tiffany. She slept through the night, waking with only one coughing spell.

But Dr. Howell had planned a weekend out of town and Tiffany's cough worsened by Monday night when the doctor returned.

"I don't know if this is working," Dr. Howell said, "Her lungs have a terrible rattle. I think she might need some antivirals.

"She'll be OK," said Ayrha.

Two weeks later the cough still hung on, the baby had lost a little weight and looked visibly tired. Still Ayrha persisted with her belief that all would be well. The chiropractor now was more nervous with each visit.

"She could die," Dr. Howell said. "This is too risky for her. You must consider taking her to the hospital."

"My grandfather always said that things looked their worst just before they got better. I think she will get better soon."

The chiropractor was surprised when she heard the next day that the baby slept through the night. Within a week she was back to her old tricks, now however, she was immune from pertussis.

"Now our work really begins," Ayrha said later when she called Dr. Howell. "Ben has started to show signs that he has whooping cough. I am so glad that Tiffany is better. Thanks for your help."

In 200 years a profession can be created and destroyed, but Innate remains unchanged. Chiropractors may wander from the original intent of chiropractic but Innate will always remain. To define chiropractic within an ever changing web of legal and social constraints will leave the profession confused back pain specialists. Chiropractic is from above down, within out, next to Innate.