I didn’t want to see Kris Timpert about my back pain. I was fed up with everyone. I had gotten no relief from a myriad of New York City health practitioners, mostly high priced doctors who charged fortunes and repeatedly found nothing wrong with my back. What was the point? I was five years into the pain and had seen everyone anybody told me was any good at all and several who were supposed to be the best or claimed to be the best.

What was the point? To be told once again, “it’s all in your head?” To hear that “we can’t find anything so there’s nothing wrong?”

But Kris didn’t approach my pain the way the other professionals approached it. She started by talking to me; about my day,about what I did. About how I got to where I was. Rather than giving me the bum’s rush she couldn’t stop asking me questions and learning about myself, and my regimen.

She performed an audit on me. Asked me more and more questions. Listened to everything I said. Laughed at the “in your head” diagnosis and said it was obvious that if I had seen umpteen professionals, sports medicine experts and back specialists and even pain therapists that it wasn’t in psychosomatic.

And then she told me something that I thought was ridiculous. She told me I would be painfree in three months.

I don’t like to be bs’d. I’ve got a TV show, Mad Money, that’s about telling it straight, no overpromising and undelivering, just unvarnished truth. Who is this Kris Timpert, I am thinking, to make such a claim? Who is this woman in Warren, to think that I am that stupid?

Funny, I decided to go see her, not because I had hope. I had none at all. But because I wanted to show her how hopeless it was. I wanted to show her that she had no idea what she was talking about, because after all the New York Pros said they couldn’t fix me or there was nothing to fix. Who is this rank amateur?

For the first four weeks I was discouraged. The pain didn’t magically go away. She never said it would. But somehow she was measuring progress and making little suggestions, a lumbar support here, a cessation of the recumbent bike there, a group of stretches to do on my own to go along with the work she was doing with me at the Studio.

Then, one day, after a session, I woke up and went downstairs to the gym and it hit me. I wasn’t in pain. Even when you have been in pain as long as I have been you don’t initially remember that you have pain when it goes away.

Oh, I remained suspicious. I kicked a mulch pile when I was gardening and I had intense pain, and figured it was all palliative. But she worked on that, too, and it went away. I bumped into a desk and it hurt my back like hell. She dealt with it. She fixed it.

I can’t describe all the stretches and exercises she puts me through. I can only say this. Three months to the day she said she could make me painfree, I was, yes, painfree.

Don’t get me wrong. I make mistakes. I have setbacks. If I don’t do the proscribed regimen I will be stiff and that will lead to pain. If I don’t pay attention to what my body is saying I can get hurt. But I am in control now. Not the pain. Oh, and it was never in my head. It just wasn’t emanating from my back. It came from my shoulders and my hamstrings and years of poor exercising and poor posture. It came from all the things Kris said it did that first night she met me.

I give stock advice, not health advice, so this is a new thing for me. But I will say it straight, the way I say it on Mad Money. I had given up hope. I accepted the pain. I knew no one could find anything. I had even come to believe that maybe, indeed, maybe it was in my head.

Kris figured it out. Thank you, Kris Timpert.

I am confident she will figure your pain out, too. Give her a chance. Tell her Cramer sent you.

Kris Timpert