Therapy

At long last I am beginning to get some relief for my aching back. It has only taken 20 years and a diagnosis of “butt pain” to get me to this point. The spine doctor dude got me into some therapy, and now three times a week I subject myself to the whims of Stefanie. She is a master of multi-tasking handling three of us walking wounded at a time. I am scared to death that she is going to take Mrs. Fuller’s knee kicks and match them up with my hip thrusts, and then I will have a real problem! The therapy room can be a dangerous place.

Who knew that pushing my shrinking posterior against a wall for 10 sets of 15 seconds…or is it 15 sets of 10 seconds….could make me feel so good? Who knew that a great part of the solution to my problem was standing on one leg? My body is still leaning 45 degrees to the right. But when I stand on my left leg like a one legged, pot bellied crane, I can see the alignment take place in front of my eyes. Of course, my hip hurts like hell, but you can’t always get what you want!!

I get to sit on squishy green balls, and pull on red and green stretchy plastic things. I get to balance on this moveable pad, and then lift my knees to my chest. Head up! Shoulders back! Stick your chin out! If I could only figure out which chin! I have several, you know.

I am certainly no therapy room fashionista. I need to get me some sweats and athletic shoes. My sweater vest and penny loafers seem a tad out of place next to the babe with a sweaty band around her head gulping water by the bottle full as she waddles around the therapy room with elastic bands wrapped around her legs. She’s working up a sweat and I look like a throw back to a 1955 malt shop!!

Then when I am through with my routine, and nauseated to the max, it’s time for electo-torture. Stefanie lays me down on a hard table, then hooks up four electric pads around my cracked spine. Then she slowly turns up the juice…slowly…slowly…slowly…OUCH!!!! Do you feel it yet? No, I just like to scream at the top of my lungs to increase my air capacity!!! Then she lets me lay there for 20 minutes as the little electro-pads do all sorts of interesting things. Oh my!!!!

Of course, I am not sure if the shocks going around my lower back are any worse than the discussion among the women in the room also getting the “juice”. This must be why women go to the hair salon. I heard about the cost of one babe’s wedding in excruciating detail. How some middle aged woman’s husband was home with a hernia, also in excruciating detail! I won’t even begin to tell you how many suggestions these ladies had as to what to do to Tiger Woods. He better stay in hiding for a long time. “Hey, ladies, there’s a guy in here!!!!” The one to the left of me looked over…and kept right on talking.

That being said, I have to admit that the therapy is doing wonders. I am improving slightly every day. I can get up out of a chair without wincing too much. I am able to walk better, even though I still use a lift in my right shoe to keep from falling over. I actually have gone back to taking the steps at work. The doctor told me he can’t fix twenty years of problems in six weeks, but all things considered….I am thrilled to death at the progress being made.

Wait a minute…that green squishy ball is mine. Get your own damn squishy ball. Hey...that's my water bottle. Wait a minute...that's my electric shock table. Oy.