Skeleton Drive-Bys

Skeleton Drive-Bys: Why our family car rides now include “skeleton spotting”

I’m starting to worry about Ethan’s obsession with skeletons. He points out every single decoration in people’s yards with feverish excitement—and if you don’t slow down so he can marvel at them, you risk a full toddler meltdown.

In a moment of desperation during one of those meltdowns, I told him, “You already have a skeleton inside of you.” His innocent eyes lit up: “I want to see!”

So… we caved. We drove through a neighborhood already decked out for Halloween (and it’s not even October yet 😝), parked in front of some random house, rolled down the windows, and let him soak it all in. Human skeletons, dog skeletons—even a dinosaur skeleton or two.

I half-expected the owners to come out waving pitchforks and yelling, “Go away, you weirdos!” But no such luck. Instead, we just sat there admiring skeletons from strangers’ front yards. Honestly, it’s a little weird to cruise around looking for skeletons. What’s weirder is that I catch myself analyzing whether they’re anatomically correct—like counting vertebrae in the spine.

Speaking of spines, during our most recent decompression workshop a young woman in her early 30s shared her testimonial. She listed several improvements she’s experienced with chiropractic care, but one comment stopped me cold. “Before, when I would look left, my vision would go blurry and sometimes I’d even go temporarily blind.”

She moved right on as if it were nothing. I had to stop her and ask the group, “Did you hear that? Vision loss when looking left had become her normal.”

Unfortunately, that’s how spine deterioration works—serious symptoms can creep in and become “normal.” Even spinal surgery can become someone’s normal. My hope is for a new normal in Washington County: one where people don’t have to endure unnecessary back surgery, where health is restored before it reaches that point.

For now, random skeleton drive-bys have become our family’s normal. Just wait until the Christmas lights go up…

Your friend,
Dr. Mosier