Rock Hill chiropractors practice healing patients, pooches
02/09/2014 4:48 PM
02/10/2014 9:48 AM
With his protective goggles and golden locks, Ruff – he goes by just one name – has the swagger of a rock or sports star.
But Ruff’s swagger came to a halt this fall. He was diagnosed with a torn ACL – an anterior cruciate ligament – and the prognosis was a costly surgery. As many star athletes know, at worst a torn ACL is a career-ending injury. At best, is mean lots of rehab after the surgery and the nagging voice in your head that repeats over and over, “Don’t do that, you may get hurt again.”
Ruff underwent a treatment some consider controversial. Dr. Mark Kimble of Rock Hill gently studied and adjusted Ruff’s back with a tool that looked like a big syringe but has no needle. A laser focused deep heat into the tissue of his inflamed knee.
Now, just two months after his injury, Ruff is back on his game, running just as fast as ever while barking and wagging his tail.
Yes, Ruff is a dog. A loveable cocker spaniel with floppy ears, inquisitive eyes and a cold nose.
But he wasn’t like that last fall when his owners, Bert and Sally Baire of Rock Hill, noticed him limping. They thought the problem was caused by a stone bruise in a paw and they applied ointment. Or maybe it happened after he chased another dog out of their yard.
Regardless, the Baires took 10-year-old Ruff to the vet. One vet said it was a torn ligament in the knee area. A second vet said it was a torn ACL and recommended surgery at a cost of about $2,500.
Sally Baire told Dr. Kimble about Ruff’s pain when she was at Kimble Chiropractic for a back adjustment.
His response was, “Bring Ruff in,” explaining that he and his father, Donald, have cared for about 60 dogs, cats, even a squirrel, since starting Kimble Veterinary Orthopedic Manipulation several years ago.
It wasn’t the first time patients have asked about their pets’ pain. Mark Kimble remembered that first time. A patient told him about her dachshund who had a bad case of road rash and was dragging its leg. The owner brought the dog to the chiropractic office, and Kimble treated it in the laundry room. Within a few minutes, “he was walking and barking,” Kimble said.
Dr. Roger DeHaan, who describes himself as a “holistic” veterinarian, reports similar success. DeHaan, who lives in Kings Mountain, N.C., has a degree in veterinary medicine, is certified as an animal chiropractor and in the veterinary orthopedic manipulation, or “VOM,” techniques used by the Kimbles.
His first case was a Rottweiler in pain. The owner wanted to put him down, but DeHaan convinced him to come to his house for treatment. In just five minutes the Rottweiler was “running around like a puppy,” DeHaan said.
Since then, “I’ve seen miracle after miracle,” DeHaan said.
Advocates of VOM say it can treat a variety of ailments from lameness to incontinence, esophageal problems and digestive disorders. The Kimbles and DeHaan took many hours of training to become VOM certified.
Not everyone endorsed the efforts of the Kimbles or DeHaan.
A 2007 study of pain by the American Animal Hospital Association cautioned that “chiropractic methods potentially can cause injury through the use of inappropriate technique or force.”
Practitioners of VOM locate the areas of a animal’s nervous system that have “fallen out of communications.”
These areas – subluxations, in medical jargon, dislocations of joints, bones or organs, in simple terms – can be found through a simple and gentle probing of an animal’s spine. While dogs can’t talk, VOM practitioners such as Kimble or DeHaan are looking for responses, much like the proverbial knee-jerk reaction you get at your doctor’s physical. But the responses are more obvious in animals. Even if they can’t talk, they communicate with their doctors, said the Kimbles and DeHaan.
Once the problem areas are located, Kimble makes more passes with the adjustment tools. The reason these tools are preferred over using hands is the adjusting tool fires at a rate of 2 to 4 milliseconds, five to 10 times faster than an animal’s ability to resist adjustment, according to VOM literature.
In Ruff’s case, laser treatment followed the adjustments, sending heat deep into his tissues to reduce inflammation and promote healing.
If the passes hurt, it wasn’t obvious. To the contrary, Ruff appeared to enjoy Mark Kimble’s tender touch, the adjustment tool and the laser massage. He looked as if he would fall asleep while his owner held him. Dogs, Kimble said, can sense a compassionate touch and look forward to it.
Dr. Donald Kimble cautioned it doesn’t always work, but estimated their success rate between 90 and 95 percent. He said they can usually tell if the treatments are working after just a couple of visits. Animals that don’t respond are referred back to their vets, he said.
Last week’s treatment for Ruff was his eighth. Cost so far for the Baires is less than $500, one-fifth the cost of surgery.
But more importantly, “there’s no limping at all and that tickles us pink,” Sally Baire said.
The Kimbles, dog lovers themselves, also revel in the successes of Ruff and other dogs they’ve treated. Mark Kimble says part of their success story is their love of animals. He has two dogs, a German Shepard-Lab mix and a mutt, who have received VOM treatments.
His father said the proof comes when a healed animal leaves their clinic, located in a small house behind the chiropractic office on North Avenue.
“It’s just fun,” Donald Kimble said. “Dogs can’t talk, but there’s their wagging tails, jumping on and off the table and into pickup trucks or cars when they leave. That’s rewarding.”
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