Ever notice how sometimes it’s the tiny changes - the slight adjustments - that lead to life altering moments? Let me tell you about one of those experiences.
It started when a tired-looking man shuffled into my small chiropractic clinic in a village in the southeast of England (I was working in the UK at the time). You could tell right away that this dad, let’s call him James, was running on fumes. He sat down, eyes heavy, and leaned forward like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.
He explained, in a weary voice, that he was here about his 9-year-old son. For five years—yes, five long years—his son had wet the bed every single night. They had seen a parade of specialists, tried medications with names that sounded like exotic desserts, and even strapped the poor kid into a gizmo that was supposed to wake him up if he needed to go to the bathroom. It didn’t work. Nothing worked.
His son was getting bullied on the playground, had no friends, and had grown terribly clumsy. Even climbing stairs had become a chore. “Our marriage is…,” he hesitated, but I knew where the sentence was going. All the stress had worn them down.
He mentioned a friend had told him about chiropractic care, and though he didn’t seem all that convinced, he was here. He wasn’t sure what to expect, and truthfully, neither was I. Bed-wetting isn’t exactly in the chiropractic handbook.
But something about the way he asked made me pause. I told him that, technically, bed-wetting was outside of my field of expertise, but I’d be happy to take a look at his son anyway. No promises, just an offer to see if there was anything that might help.
The boy came in, shy and looking at the floor like it was his only friend. He was small for his age and had that stiff, awkward gait of a child who’d spent too much time being careful. As I examined him, I found a tenderness in his lower back and pelvis, like something was just a little off.
I explained to James that I could offer adjustments to correct the alignment of his son’s spine and pelvis. Again, no promises, but we’d give it a go. James, with nothing left to lose, agreed.
Carefully, I treated the child’s low back and pelvis. I didn’t see them for a while after that, and I found myself wondering how things had turned out.
About four weeks later, James appeared at the clinic. But this time, he wasn’t the tired man I had met before. No, this time, he was beaming, practically bouncing into the room.
“My son,” he said, barely containing his excitement, “he hasn’t wet the bed since that first adjustment. He slept through the night for the first time in years!”
He went on, telling me how his son’s whole world had changed. He was learning to ride a bike, something that would have seemed impossible just weeks ago. He’d made friends on the playground, and they were already planning his first sleepover—a milestone that had once seemed like a distant dream.
As James thanked me profusely, his face lit up with a kind of joy that could only come from seeing your child’s life turn around.
I smiled back, genuinely glad for them both, and told him I was happy his son was doing better. But as I sat back after he left, I couldn’t help but think about how life works sometimes. Often, it’s not the big, dramatic moves that make the difference. Sometimes, it’s the tiny, almost imperceptible alterations—the slight adjustments—that lead to the biggest changes.
And this was one of those times.
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