I grimaced. A couple more steps and you’re in, I goaded myself. It was my first-ever visit to a chiropractic clinic – this detour on my way to Africa.

I nudged the door. My face contorted as I shuffled through to the foyer.

One thing was clear. . . though I had long-discarded my pair of crutches from the polio bouts, those limping days of childhood were hardly my last.

Halting steps moved me toward a check-in counter. At it sat a prim, middle-aged woman. Another pain shot across my lower back. My knees buckled and I caught myself, barely averting a crash to the hardwood floor. The lady took charge.

“Oh! Here, right here, sir!” Quickly moving my way, she indicated a straight-back chair. I eased into it, arching my back at odd angles.

“The doctor will see you in just a minute,” she offered with a sympathetic smile.

Another slow turn in the chair. Perspiration beaded my forehead. Thanking the receptionist, I accepted a pen and first-visit patient form. After a couple entries, I relaxed and reviewed the incident that brought me to this cottage-turned-clinic in the Alamo city.

A wry smile visited my lips.

If Francis could see me now.

Shortly before our San Antonio move for Bible college, my co-worker at Tulsa’s North American Aviation asked what job awaited me beyond the state line. Between winces now, I imagined his “I-told-you-so.” If he could only see me in this bone-cruncher establishment.

Well, Francis, it’s like this. Down at the corner of Caldera and Bandera there’s this Phillips 66 station . . .

Midafternoon yesterday I had grabbed two car tires, both attached to their heavy rims. Lifting a weighty load while swiveling about defies good judgment, a fact shouted to me via a stab near my waist line.

Mercifully, within an hour of my clinic visit, relief broke through. I moved to the parking lot without a whimper, the bone-cruncher profession winning my devotion.

This early encounter in our South Texas move served as a preview for my wife Ann and me, our pathways ahead, their twists and turns, challenging episodes, comforting breakthroughs. The adventure was underway.

We would grapple with mysteries, get confronted by cultures, religious and otherwise.

But first, some needed training.

NOTE: Speaker-Writer Jerry Lout grew up in Okmulgee County. A graduate of Preston High School, he completed media training at OSUIT in Okmulgee prior to his San Antonio college years. He and his wife served 20 years as missionaries in Africa, afterwards directing a Tulsa University campus ministry. Twice visited by polio, Jerry authored “Living With A Limp.” His “Giants in the Rough” memoir highlights the Africa years. Both works are available on Amazon.com and his website, www.jerrylout.com,features his blog entries. Jerry welcomes inquiries and comments via email at: jerrylout@gmail.com.

©2019 Jerry Lout