My new physical therapist is turning out to be quite good. And it’s for the simple fact of the matter that he cares. And he doesn’t. Both. At the same time.

I’m in pain and he sympathizes. I’m cataloging every single movement I’ve made prior to the pain and he doesn’t want to hear it. At least not now. Now is for fixing. Later is for preventing.

It seems I am having a bulging disc issue in two different places in my back. How the hell I managed that neither of us knows. Good posture is the basic way to relieve the pain and while I try, it seems not to be enough. After a particularly bad weekend, PT Man (aka Master of Torture) taped me up like a mummy disallowing me to slouch or bend over in any way, shape or form.

PT Man calls this “behavior modification”. I call it hell on a stick with chocolate sauce. Almost makes me long for the days of Sr. June poking me in the back with her extra sharp pencils in the 3rd grade. My posture is so straight I feel like my breasts are entering the room a full minute before I do and I’m not at all endowed.

The truly best part is that I’m also allergic to adhesive tape. Wearing simple adhesives such as band aids is big ordeal for me as I break out in hives. So having a few feet of extra sticky medical tape stretched across my back pinching my shoulder blades together prevents me from getting anything shorter than a yard stick back there to scratch the itch. I see now why pets rub up against door frames. And while I am tempted, I don’t think my coworkers would approve.

An easy way out of all of this is traditional medicine but I’m adamantly staying away from drugs and shots and looking into alternative therapies. Luckily, PT Man agrees and now I have a new object de art on its way to my living room: may I introduce the The Whale. It seems the only time I feel better is when I’m making like the Arch of St. Louis, so this thing is going to aid me in my quest to become modern American architecture.

The score card is as follows: Restricted movement-check. Allergic Reaction to therapy-double check. Freakish equipment to scare the neighbors-check, check and check!

And Sailor Man is just loving life for this. I’ve always pushed myself too hard for too long and when I breakdown, I pop an ibuprofen go back to work. For years I have been dismissive of his hippy-voodo-way of dealing with ailments and now, here I am doing back bends over exercise balls. It’s a good thing thing that I am confident of his love for me or I might start taking his teasing personally.

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