Ugly

Everyone in the apartment complex I lived in knew who Ugly was. Ugly was the resident tomcat.

Ugly loved three things in this world: fighting, eating garbage, and shall we say, love. The combination of these things combined with a life spent outside had their effect on Ugly.



To start with, he had only one eye, and where the other should have been was a gaping hole. He was also missing his ear on the same side, his left foot has appeared to have been badly broken at one time, and had healed at an unnatural angle, making him look like he was always turning the corner. His tail has long since been lost, leaving only the smallest stub, which he would constantly jerk and twitch. Ugly would have been a dark gray tabby striped-type, except for the sores covering his head, neck, even his shoulders with thick, yellowing scabs.



Every time someone saw Ugly there was the same reaction. "That's one UGLY cat!!"



All the children were warned not to touch him, the adults threw rocks at him, hosed him down, squirted him when he tried to come in their homes, or shut his paws in the door when he would not leave.



Ugly always had the same reaction. If you turned the hose on him, he would stand there, getting soaked until you gave up and quit. If you threw things at him, he would curl his lanky body around feet in forgiveness. Whenever he spied children, he would come running meowing frantically and bump his head against their hands, begging for their love. If you ever picked him up he would immediately begin suckling on your shirt, earrings, whatever he could find.



One day Ugly shared his love with the neighbors huskies. They did not respond kindly, and Ugly was badly mauled. From my apartment I could hear his screams, and I tried to rush to his aid. By the time I got to where he was laying, it was apparent Ugly's sad life was almost at an end.



Ugly lay in a wet circle, his back legs and lower back twisted grossly out of shape, a gaping tear in the white strip of fur that ran down his front. As I picked him up and tried to carry him home I could hear him wheezing and gasping, and could feel him struggling. I must be hurting him terribly I thought.



Then I felt a familiar tugging, sucking sensation on my ear - Ugly, in so much pain, suffering and obviously dying was trying to suckle my ear. I pulled him closer to me, and he bumped the palm of my hand with his head, then he turned his one golden eye towards me, and I could hear the distinct sound of purring. Even in the greatest pain, that ugly battled-scarred cat was asking only for a little affection, perhaps some compassion.



At that moment I thought Ugly was the most beautiful, loving creature I had ever seen. Never once did he try to bite or scratch me, or even try to get away from me, or struggle in any way. Ugly just looked up at me completely trusting in me to relieve his pain.



Ugly died in my arms before I could get inside, but I sat and held him for a long time afterwards, thinking about how one scarred, deformed little stray could so alter my opinion about what it means to have true pureness of spirit, to love so totally and truly. Ugly taught me more about giving and compassion than a thousand books, lectures, or talk show specials ever could, and for that I will always be thankful. He had been scarred on the outside, but I was scarred on the inside, and it was time for me to move on and learn to love truly and deeply. -- Author Unknown

How Much For A Miracle?

Tess was a precocious eight years old when she heard her Mom and Dad
talking about her little brother, Andrew. All she knew was that he
was very sick and they were completely out of money. They were moving
to an apartment complex next month because Daddy didn't have the
money for the doctor bills and our house. Only a very costly surgery
could save him now and it was looking like there was no-one to loan
them the money. She heard Daddy say to her tearful Mother with
whispered desperation, "Only amiracle can save him now."
Tess went to her bedroom and pulled a glass jelly jar from its
hiding place in the closet. She poured all the change out on the
floor and counted it carefully. Three times, even. The total had to
be exactly perfect. No chance here for mistakes. Carefully placing
the coins back in the jar and twisting on the cap, she slipped out
the back door and made her way 6 blocks to Rexall's Drug Store with
the big red Indian Chief sign above the door.
She waited patiently for the pharmacist to give her some attention
but he was too intently talking to another man to be bothered by an
eight year old at this moment. Tess twisted her feet to make a
scuffing noise. Nothing. She cleared her throat with the most
disgusting sound she could muster. No good. Finally she took a
quarter from her jar and banged it on the glass counter. That did it!
"And what do you want?" the pharmacist asked in an annoyed tone of
voice. "I'm talking to my brother from Chicago whom I haven't seen in
ages," he said without waiting for a reply to his question.
"Well, I want to talk to you about my brother," Tess answered back
in the same annoyed tone. "He's really, really sick ... and I want to
buy a miracle."
"I beg your pardon?" said the pharmacist.
"His name is Andrew and he has something bad growing inside his head
and my Daddy says only a miracle can save him now. So how much does a
miracle cost?"
"We don't sell miracles here, little girl. I'm sorry but I can't
help you." the pharmacist said, softening a little.
"Listen, I have the money to pay for it. If it isn't enough, I will
get the rest. Just tell me how much it costs."
The pharmacist's brother was a well dressed man. He stooped down and
asked the little girl, "What kind of a miracle does you brother need?"
"I don't know," Tess replied with her eyes welling up. "I just know
he's really sick and Mommy says he needs a operation. But my Daddy
can't pay for it, so I want to use my money. "How much do you have?"
asked the man from Chicago.
"One dollar and eleven cents," Tess answered barely audibly. "And
it's all the money I have, but I can get some more if I need to."
"Well, what a coincidence," smiled the man. "A dollar and eleven
cents -- the exact price of a miracle for little brothers." He took
her money in one hand and with the other hand he grasped her and said
"Take me to where you live. I want to see your brother and meet your
parents. Let's see if I have the kind of miracle you need."
That well dressed man was Dr. Carlton Armstrong, a surgeon,
specializing in neuro-surgery. The operation was completed without
charge and it wasn't long until Andrew was home again and doing well.
Mom and Dad were happily talking about the chain of events that had
led them to this place. "That surgery," her mom whispered. "was a
real miracle. I wonder how much it would have cost?"
Tess smiled. She knew exactly how much a miracle cost... one dollar
and eleven cents....plus the faith of a little child.
- Author Unknown

Traditional Health vs. Chiropractic Wellness

No fever. No nausea. No problem? Even the doctor says you’re fine, so why do you feel so cruddy? Perhaps you’ve been seeking health instead of wellness. This guide will explain how health is not the same as wellness, and how a chiropractor can help you achieve the wellness you deserve.

Health and standard medical treatment
Conventional medicine defines health as the absence of disease. When you have a problem, standard medical care focuses on treating the symptoms. For example, if you live with back pain, a physician might prescribe medications, which can have side effects, or recommend painful, pricey surgery. Some of these treatments are the equivalent of slapping a bandage on a bleeding wound—it might stop the bleeding, but it won’t do a thing to cure what caused the bleeding in the first place.

Wellness and chiropractic care
Wellness is a state in which the entire body works as it is designed to do. This means that you’ll feel well, not only physically, but mentally and emotionally.

Chiropractic care can help you achieve a state of wellness by looking for internal disturbances or misalignments, called vertebral subluxations, that have the potential to trigger a host of chronic conditions, from headaches to carpal tunnel syndrome. When the chiropractor finds one, he or she will manipulate the body back into a position that allows it to function properly. These adjustments are typically made with the hands, although sometimes the chiropractor will use special tools.

Because your chiropractor is concerned with wellness rather than applying a temporary fix to aches or pains, he or she may also recommend stretching or strengthening exercises that you can continue to do at home to keep your body in working order.

Be aware that there are conditions that require conventional medical treatments or procedures. However, if you are looking for a way to improve your quality of life and allow your body to heal itself in a healthy and natural way, it’s time to make a chiropractic care appointment.

Removing Rocks..........................

A little boy was spending his Saturday morning playing in his
sandbox. He had with him his box of cars and trucks, his plastic
pail, and a shiny, red plastic shovel. In the process of creating
roads and tunnels in the soft sand, he discovered a large rock in
the middle of the sandbox.
The boy dug around the rock, managing to dislodge it from the
dirt. With a little bit of struggle, he pushed and nudged the
rock across the sandbox by using his feet. (He was a very small
boy, and the rock was very large.) When the boy got the rock to
the edge of the sandbox however, he found that he couldn't roll
it up and over the little wall.
Determined, the little boy shoved, pushed, and pried, but every
time he thought he had made some progress, the rock tipped and
then fell back into the sandbox. The little boy grunted,
struggled, pushed, & shoved; but his only reward was to have the
rock roll back, smashing his chubby fingers.
Finally he burst into tears of frustration. All this time the
boy's father watched from his living room window as the drama
unfolded. At the moment the tears fell, a large shadow fell
across the boy and the sandbox. It was the boy's father. Gently
but firmly he said,
"Son, why didn't you use all the strength that you had
available?"
Defeated, the boy sobbed back,
"But I did, Daddy, I did! I used all the strength that I had!"
"No, son," corrected the father kindly.
"You didn't use all the strength you had. You didn't ask me."
With that the father reached down, picked up the rock and removed
it from the sandbox.
Do you have "rocks" in your life that need to be removed? Are you
discovering that you don't have what it takes to lift them? There
is One who is always available to us and willing to give us the
strength we need. Isn't it funny how we try so hard to do things
ourselves.
-- Author Unknown

The Wallet

As I walked home one freezing day, I stumbled on a wallet someone
had lost in the street. I picked it up and looked inside to find
some identification so I could call the owner. But the wallet
contained only three dollars and a crumpled letter that looked as
if it had been in there for years.
The envelope was worn and the only thing that was legible on it
was the return address. I started to open the letter, hoping to
find some clue. Then I saw the dateline--1924. The letter had
been written almost sixty years ago.
It was written in a beautiful feminine handwriting on powder blue
stationery with a little flower in the left-hand corner. It was a
"Dear John" letter that told the recipient, whose name appeared
to be Michael, that the writer could not see him any more because
her mother forbade it. Even so, she wrote that she would always
love him.
It was signed, Hannah.
It was a beautiful letter, but there was no way except for the
name Michael, that the owner could be identified. Maybe if I
called information, the operator could find a phone listing for
the address on the envelope.
"Operator," I began, "this is an unusual request. I'm trying to
find the owner of a wallet that I found. Is there anyway you can
tell me if there is a phone number for an address that was on an
envelope in the wallet?"
She suggested I speak with her supervisor, who hesitated for a
moment then said, "Well, there is a phone listing at that
address, but I can't give you the number." She said, as a
courtesy, she would call that number, explain my story and would
ask them if they wanted her to connect me. I waited a few minutes
and then she was back on the line. "I have a party who will speak
with you."
I asked the woman on the other end of the line if she knew anyone
by the name of Hannah. She gasped, "Oh! We bought this house from
a family who had a daughter named Hannah. But that was 30 years
ago!"
"Would you know where that family could be located now?" I asked.
"I remember that Hannah had to place her mother in a nursing home
some years ago," the woman said. "Maybe if you got in touch with
them they might be able to track down the daughter."
She gave me the name of the nursing home and I called the number.
They told me the old lady had passed away some years ago but they
did have a phone number for where they thought the daughter might
be living.
I thanked them and phoned. The woman who answered explained that
Hannah herself was now living in a nursing home.
This whole thing was stupid, I thought to myself. Why was I
making such a big deal over finding the owner of a wallet that
had only three dollars and a letter that was almost 60 years old?
Nevertheless, I called the nursing home in which Hannah was
supposed to be living and the man who answered the phone told me,
"Yes, Hannah is staying with us."
Even though it was already 10 p.m., I asked if I could come by to
see her. "Well," he said hesitatingly, "if you want to take a
chance, she might be in the day room watching television."
I thanked him and drove over to the nursing home. The night nurse
and a guard greeted me at the door. We went up to the third floor
of the large building. In the day room, the nurse introduced me
to Hannah.
She was a sweet, silver-haired old timer with a warm smile and a
twinkle in her eye.
I told her about finding the wallet and showed her the letter.
The second she saw the powder blue envelope with that little
flower on the left, she took a deep breath and said, "Young man,
this letter was the last contact I ever had with Michael."
She looked away for a moment deep in thought and then said
Softly, "I loved him very much. But I was only 16 at the time and
my mother felt I was too young. Oh, he was so handsome. He looked
like Sean Connery, the actor."
"Yes," she continued. "Michael Goldstein was a wonderful person.
If you should find him, tell him I think of him often. And," she
hesitated for a moment, almost biting her lip, "tell him I still
love him. You know," she said smiling as tears began to well up
in her eyes, "I never did marry. I guess no one ever matched up
to Michael..."
I thanked Hannah and said good-bye. I took the elevator to the
first floor and as I stood by the door, the guard there asked,
"Was the old lady able to help you?"
I told him she had given me a lead. "At least I have a last name.
But I think I'll let it go for a while. I spent almost the whole
day trying to find the owner of this wallet."
I had taken out the wallet, which was a simple brown leather case
with red lacing on the side. When the guard saw it, he said,
"Hey, wait a minute! That's Mr. Goldstein's wallet. I'd know it
anywhere with that right red lacing. He's always losing that
wallet. I must have found it in the halls at least three times."
"Who's Mr. Goldstein?" I asked as my hand began to shake.
"He's one of the old timers on the 8th floor. That's Mike
Goldstein's wallet for sure. He must have lost it on one of his
walks."
I thanked the guard and quickly ran back to the nurse's office. I
told her what the guard had said. We went back to the elevator
and got on. I prayed that Mr. Goldstein would be up.
On the eighth floor, the floor nurse said, "I think he's still in
the day room. He likes to read at night. He's a darling old man."
We went to the only room that had any lights on and there was a
man reading a book. The nurse went over to him and asked if he
had lost his wallet. Mr. Goldstein looked up with surprise, put
his hand in his back pocket and said, "Oh, it is missing!"
"This kind gentleman found a wallet and we wondered if it could
be yours?"
I handed Mr. Goldstein the wallet and the second he saw it, he
smiled with relief and said, "Yes, that's it! It must have
dropped out of my pocket this afternoon. I want to give you a
reward."
"No, thank you," I said. "But I have to tell you something. I
read the letter in the hope of finding out who owned the wallet."
The smile on his face suddenly disappeared. "You read that
letter?"
"Not only did I read it, I think I know where Hannah is."
He suddenly grew pale. "Hannah? You know where she is? How is
she? Is she still as pretty as she was? Please, please tell me,"
he begged.
"She's fine...just as pretty as when you knew her." I said
softly.
The old man smiled with anticipation and asked, "Could you tell
me where she is? I want to call her tomorrow." He grabbed my hand
and said, "You know something, mister, I was so in love with that
girl that when that letter came, my life literally ended. I never
married. I guess I've always loved her. "
"Mr. Goldstein," I said, "come with me."
We took the elevator down to the third floor. The hallways were
darkened and only one or two little night-lights lit our way to
the day room where Hannah was sitting alone watching the
television. The nurse walked over to her.
"Hannah," she said softly, pointing to Michael, who was waiting
with me in the doorway. "Do you know this man?"
She adjusted her glasses, looked for a moment, but didn't say a
word. Michael said softly, almost in a whisper, "Hannah, it's
Michael. Do you remember me?"
She gasped, "Michael! I don't believe it! Michael! It's you! My
Michael!"
He walked slowly towards her and they embraced. The nurse and I
left with tears streaming down our faces.
"See," I said. "See how the Good Lord works! If it's meant to be,
it will be."
About three weeks later I got a call at my office from the
nursing home. "Can you break away on Sunday to attend a wedding?
Michael and Hannah are going to tie the knot!"
It was a beautiful wedding with all the people at the nursing
home dressed up to join in the celebration. Hannah wore a light
beige dress and looked beautiful. Michael wore a dark blue suit
and stood tall. They made me their best man.
The hospital gave them their own room and if you ever wanted to
see a 76-year-old bride and a 79-year-old groom acting like two
teenagers, you had to see this couple.
A perfect ending for a love affair that had lasted nearly 60
years.
-- Author Unknown

Non-Surgical Spinal Decompression

Non-surgical spinal decompression

In nonsurgical spinal decompression, a patient is strapped securely to a table.

Straps.

Mechanical traction slowly and temporarily alleviates spinal pressure.

Non-surgical spinal decompression is achieved through the use of a mechanical traction device applied through an on-board computer that controls the force and angle of disc distraction, which reduces the body’s natural propensity to resist external force and/or generate muscle spasm. This enhanced control allows non-surgical spinal decompression tables to apply a traction force to the discs of the spinal column reducing intradiscal pressure, unlike previous non-computer controlled traction tables.
Inversion therapy, which involves hanging upside down, is a form of mechanical traction used for spinal decompression.^[4]
The practice is promoted as safe and effective without the normal risks associated with invasive procedures such as injections, anesthesia or surgery. Spinal decompression works through a series of 15 one minute alternating decompression (using a logarithmic decompression curve) and relaxation cycles with a total treatment time of 30 minutes. During the decompression ^[5] phase the pressure in the disc is reduced and a vacuum type of effect is produced on the nucleus pulposis. At the same time nutrition is diffused into the disc allowing the annulus fibrosis to heal. Very rarely is the nerve root compressed from the herniated disc and usually the back and leg pain associated with these conditions is a result of irritation to the nerve root sleeve by the inflammatory chemicals that are released as a result of inflammation in the disc.^[6]
For the low back, the patient lies comfortably on his/her back or stomach on the decompression table, with a set of nicely padded straps snug around the waist and another set around the lower chest. For the neck, the patient lies comfortably on his/her back with a pair of soft rubber pads behind the neck. Many patients enjoy the treatment, as it is usually quite comfortable and well tolerated.^[7]
The treatment has several varying versions, including articulating spinal decompression or range-of-motion (ROM) decompression, which enables the doctor or therapist to adjust the patient's spinal posture during the decompression. Varying the spine's posture enables the decompressive pulling forces to reach into spinal areas and tissues that basic linear decompression misses. The Antalgic-Trak is a brand name for an articulating decompression system.^[8]

Source: Wikipedia