Curing those aches and pains

More farmers are turning to chiropractors to help cure farming ills - everything from bad backs to sore necks
BY MARGARET COMFORT
In the throwback fashion of a Norman Rockwell painting, a moment in the lives of the farming community might today be captured in downtown Smithville, Niagara Region. The group of unforgettable characters wouldn't be exchanging stories around a potbelly stove at the general store or while waiting for a haircut and shave at the barber's, though. Instead, the setting would probably be the local chiropractor's office.

Bending and twisting, heavy lifting and long hours tractor driving are just a few of the everyday strains leaving farmers susceptible to lower back, knee, head and neck pain. Anatomically, all that wear and tear, along with degeneration, can lead to compressed discs, pinched nerves, a shift out of alignment for joints and worn knee cartilage. For many, chiropractic treatment and natural remedies offer relief as an alternative to dependence on prescription medicines and surgical procedures.

Heavy lifting was at the root of the problem for West Lincoln dairyman David Evans, coupled with degenerative discs and the repetitive motion of bending to milk.

About a year ago, "I was building a shed and lifting, just doing what I had to do," says Evans, 37. At one point, he says, he "couldn't straighten up, and next thing I knew I was bedridden. I called some fellows to help me put in a septic system, and they ended up doing all the work. I had to lean up against a shovel, just to stand up. All I could do was watch."

When he first sought treatment from Grant Gonchar, doctor of chiropractic, in June 1998, Evans' visits were scheduled for three times a week. Now he's down to one treatment a month - for maintenance - at the Smithville Chiropractic Clinic. He has insurance to cover those costs not taken care of by the Ontario Hospital Insurance Plan (OHIP), which approves $220, including $40 for X-rays, for a one-year period from April 1 to March of the following year.

For veterinarian James Crawford of the Lincoln Animal Clinic, chiropractic treatments have become a way of life. He's suffered dull pain and weakness in his arms and neck since he was "kicked in the head" by a horse eight years ago. More aggravation resulted from his work routine - and a couple of whiplash-causing hockey injuries - moving him to seek chiropractic help two years ago. He's been a patient of Dr. Gonchar for the past year.

"Many people wait to get treatment and try to work through the pain," says Gonchar. The hard part, he adds, is getting treatments started. Once there, farmers generally continue with treatments: "They realize they have to stop and take care of themselves, more so than in other less strenuous professions, to meet the heavy physical demands of their work." He says farmers comprise about 20 per cent of his patient load.

Often, back problems surface through repeated injuries, causing compression of the last lumbar disc and severe back pain. Degenerative changes also point to trouble. Gonchar says that some symptoms of compressed or degenerative discs and pinched nerves are migraine-like headaches, grinding of the spine, and numbness and tingling in the hands and feet. A spinal adjustment is the most common mode of treatment. Exercises are prescribed in combination with most treatments to correct problems, build strength and increase range of motion.

"The trend now is for people to get away from medication," says Gonchar. "The old way of treating back pain was to go on bed rest, pain killers and muscle relaxants. In effect, they covered up the symptoms, but as the years progressed the underlying problem got worse. In the end, orthopaedic surgery would be required, usually involving disc removal or fusion."

Rather than reaching for the bottles of aspirin or other common pain relievers that are ubiquitous in many milk houses - and which can cause stomach ulcers - Gonchar says some people are buying a natural remedy called glucosamine. Available at many drug and health/nutrition stores, it apparently provides some hope for sore milkers' knees, common for operators of non-parlour style setups, by helping to promote cartilage rebuilding. Nonetheless, for severely damaged cartilage, surgery is often the only option.

In days of old, farmers had to stop - their horses needed rest. Now, most refuel the tractor and keep driving until the job is done, often late into the night. By summer, the cropping season has taken its toll. The problem, in the form of a stiff neck, is seen with alarming frequency at the Smithville clinic.

Long hours driving a tractor with the head turned to one side, watching the implement behind, can leave an operator unable to change the neck's position or obtain full range of motion. Constant bouncing may cause compressed discs. Gonchar stresses the importance of regular breaks, walking and stretching in preventing such problems. Whenever possible, using alternate sides from which to view equipment is recommended, too.

To further prevent back problems, he suggests keeping an eye on the waistline. Particularly in men, weight gain in front, on the abdomen, puts pressure on the back. Proper lifting practices should also be followed: Bend with the knees, not the back muscles. Warm-ups are a must before any strenuous exertion or exercise routine.

The veterinary profession is rife with practitioners who have neck problems. Rolling cattle, difficult calvings, bovine rectal examinations - they're just a few of the activities causing repeated, intense, neck strain. In Crawford's case, it meant regaining curvature from the straight, pipe-like angle shown on X-rays. After 10 chiropractic treatments, he says he felt better. He's now down to one visit every two weeks.

"When I stopped treatment for six months, I was in pretty bad shape. If I quit, I know I'll be finished," observes the Smithville vet.

Crawford admits he'd "always been leery of chiropractors." His wife, Darla, remains a non-believer following a bad experience with chiropractic in the past. Crawford's outlook changed after seeing a family friend study to become a chiropractor, and through his own recent experience. "Now I think there's a real call for them. [Chiropractic] has certainly helped me, and from what I hear from a lot of producers, it's helping them, too. They're really well educated regarding the anatomy, and understand the concept of healing. The key is to get someone you trust."

© copyright 1999 Agricultural Publishing Company Limited.



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Rural Roots By Campbell Cork
RURAL   ROOTS
By Campbell Cork



Richard Scott's bridge to the past

Richard Scott was one tough old codger when it came to bargaining with the Grand Trunk Railroad. In about 1880 when the company built its line through Arthur township, Wellington county, it divided Scott's farm in two.

In those days, the nearness of the railroad could make or break a community. Municipalities greased the railroaders' palms in order to bring the lines closer to their communities. Small villages were known to cough up tens of thousands of dollars.

But that wasn't what Richard Scott was thinking about when he sat down to bargain with the Grand Trunk representatives. Most farmers whose property was dissected by the ribbons of steel were happy to have a level crossing constructed over the rails. The railroads might even throw in a gate in the fence to keep everyone happy.

Richard Scott wanted a bridge. It would have to be 25 feet high to allow the steam-belching iron horse to pass underneath, and be built strong enough to carry his flesh-and-blood horses and equipment over top. Scott got what he wanted.

The Scott farm was sold to the Eccles family in 1920, and present owner George Eccles was born there. He's heard lots of stories, but the exact details of how Mr. Scott managed to pry the bridge out of the Grand Trunk are lost in the coal smoke of time.

In the 1980s when the Canadian National Railroad skulked out of the railroad business in most rural parts of southwestern Ontario, the company carefully ripped out every vestige of railroad, including bridges, ties and rails. But not Richard Scott's bridge. That wasn't the deal. It's decking of massive four-inch thick and 14-inch wide B.C. fir rests on rows of recycled steel rails. It was built to last and last it has. George Eccles doesn't hesitate to send a combine over it still today.

He and his four brothers had plenty of fun as kids on that steeply arched bridge. They would push the buggy to the top and climb aboard. Steering with ropes, the buggy would come thundering down the bridge and almost make it back to the barn.

"You didn't need a watch," George recalled. "The train went up at noon and came back down at 3:30 p.m." His mother would send her five boys and five girls out to play, saying, "Be back when the train comes down."

There was a long grade approaching the bridge, and the trains, which were often loaded down with gravel, were straining pretty hard by the time they got there.

George recalled that he and his brothers sometimes "put a stroke or two" of soap on the rails for about 20 feet. When the breathless locomotive hit the soap, it was better than Charlie Chaplin stepping on a banana peel.

The frustrated engineer would have to back the train down the grade and make another run at it. The Eccles boys, hanging over the bridge, were assured of several hours of entertainment.

Some years the grasshoppers were so thick they would grease up the rails even better than soap.

The kindly engineers either weren't aware of the boys' pranks or didn't mind. In any case, they always allowed the boys to ride the cowcatcher from town and stopped to let them off at the bridge.

"I'm pretty attached to that bridge," George said during an interview a few years ago while hanging over the bridge's still sturdy railings. Below, the rail bed had started to get grown in with alders and maple saplings. The abandoned rail line lay quiet except for the odd walker or dirt bike on a sunny day.

"I have a lot of memories of it," he said of the bridge, and then smiled. "And I'm not going to tell you them all."
Campbell Cork lives and writes in Mount Forest

© copyright 1999 Agricultural Publishing Company Limited.



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Unearthed, Notes from All Over
UNEARTHED
Notes from All Over


Wing night and egg-citing times

The worlds of hockey and animal rights collided in Fredericton recently when a chicken named Zelda was accidentally smothered after performing in a magic act before an American Hockey League game.

Quebec magician Ted Outerbridge was saddened by the loss of his star chicken, but became angry when someone from the Fredericton Canadiens sent out a fake press release stating the magician was "all choked up over his chicken," and that wings would be on special at the concession stand, according to the National Post.

The press release implicated two villains in the incident, known only as Chicken Lips and Feathers.

Wayne Gamble, the team's director of operations, apologized to Outerbridge but considered that the whole affair was getting out of hand. "It was a joke. This is hockey. Maybe we need some sensitivity training on chickens, I don't know."




It used to be that Jim Johnstone could slip in and out of town unnoticed. Now that his wildly successful egg television commercial has vaulted him to instant stardom, the Alliston egg producer says there's a price to be paid for fame.

"You lose your anonymity," says Johnstone, who's now recognized wherever he goes. "You're always on."

Back home there's the ribbing from his wife, who insists Johnstone, now that he's a celebrity, "change your clothes and shine your shoes before you go to town."

On hearing that filming the commercial would take two days, she was also heard to quip that it would take longer than that just to do her husband's makeup.

Since the commercial was produced four years ago, there have been a couple of takeoffs, one with a producer holding a bowling ball instead of an egg and dropping it on his toe, and the other with a Cadbury chocolate egg.

Johnstone is now working with the Life Network on a series on the history of eggs, and hopes to do another on the concentration of agri-business, taking the town of Alliston as a case study.




Late last month, near Raleigh, N.C., a manure lagoon owned by giant hog producer Murphy Farms ruptured. Apparently the leak of diluted waste water occurred between 9 p.m. Sunday and 6:30 a.m. Monday.

There had been no heavy rains or unusual weather. Furthermore, there was no evidence of overflow or seepage. Nor in the aftermath of the spill were there reports or photos revealing the fish kills or impact on wildlife that typically follow such incidents.

So no harm done. Right?

Well, maybe not to the environment. What isn't as clear, though, is the impact on the state's pork producers.

Local environmentalists have been pushing hard for a ban on lagoons. The deadline for introducing new legislation in the North Carolina legislature this year is approaching.

"We can't help but question the timing of the incident," says North Carolina Pork Council president Deborah Johnson, who suspects vandals were involved.

© copyright 1999 Agricultural Publishing Company Limited.



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