April 6, 2018
Dear Everyone:
I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it before, but my little trip to the
hospital back in January required a follow up visit to my Primary Care
Physician (PCP). While I was
there, I asked her for referrals to a back specialist, a pain specialist
and a physical therapist.
(Partridge in a pear tree not included.)
The sympathetic Back Specialist took one look at my x-ray and
pronounced: “You have
arthritis,
osteoporosis and
scoliosis.
And, unfortunately, there’s nothing we can do about it
surgically.” Frankly, the
bones are so fragile that trying to attach a metal plate into place
would be like screwing into rotten wood.
He even showed me the image, which clearly displayed a kind of
backward ‘C’ in place of a vertical spine.
He did recommend “water exercise” if I could find access to a pool.
Actually, there are two swimming pools where I live, one of them
directly across the street from my front door.
But I would need to know what kind of exercises to do.
Later, when the kindly Pain Management Specialist saw the sympathetic
Back Specialist’s evaluation and recommendation, he concurred.
Then he bent over his laptop and did a search for facilities that
offer “water exercise” in my general area.
He even wrote a “prescription” on a page and gave it to me.
That’s how I learned about a place in not-so-far-away
Livermore called
“Healthy-Living”. No, that’s
not its real name, but it will do.
It’s affiliated with a large medical group here in the
East Bay.
It’s actually a rather enormous two-story
gymnasium.
I would recommend taking food and water before setting off to
explore the place. As it
was, I had a guide and only visited the area devoted to warm water
therapy. This looked like a
good place to find the right kind of exercises for my back and crumbly
bones.
I signed up for the next set of sessions, beginning the first Thursday
in April. The woman at the
Physical Therapy Desk advised me that
Medicare might pay for the course,
much the way it pays for my six encounters with “Geraldine”, my Physical
Terrorist. However, it would
take time for me to jump through all the required hoops (getting a
little too physical!) I
cheerfully assured her that I could afford the $80 charge, while biting
my tongue not to say, “Sweetie, the swimsuit is going to cost more than
that!”
I showed up early for yesterday’s first session, to give me time to
remember where the pool was, find and use the Women’s Locker Room, and
put the aforementioned $80 on my credit card.
The whole exercise program took place in a very large, very warm
pool of water.
Seriously, it was as warm as bath water, although much deeper.
4-½ feet where the steps led down into the pool; which was a
little more than chin-high on me, on tip-toe.
3-½ feet at the other end, where I stayed for the duration.
There were five of us in all.
Three women besides myself, all “ladies of a certain age and
generous proportions”, and one old geezer named “Phil”.
Apparently I was the only newcomer, as everyone else seemed to
know what was going on.
One problem was understanding what the therapists were saying.
The pool room was completely finished in tile, so their voices
bounced off the walls and ceiling, creating echoes of echoes.
Consequently they compensated by yelling louder.
Trying to understand the instructions was like being at the airport.
You know, when the attendant at the gate makes an announcement
over the PA system, with the microphone pressed firmly against his/her
mouth. Something like:
“United A$$&@{}# Flight %!@^, with service to ‘London’, (or could be
‘Lompoc’, or could be ‘Chico’), now boarding at Gate Number Grglb!”
Years ago, before airport security got so tight, a man boarded a flight
to Oakland, California. It
was just a short hop, so he began to wonder why the trip was taking so
long. He summoned a flight
attendant to ask when they would be landing in Oakland.
Which is when he discovered that he was on his way to
Auckland,
New Zealand. True story.
Meanwhile, back at the pool, the therapists frequently demonstrated the
exercises enough to figure out what to do.
Holding onto the side of the pool helped.
We ladies had plenty of natural buoyancy, of course.
As for “Phil”, the warm water was so soothing and relaxing that
he frequently appeared to have dropped off to sleep, standing up in the
water.
Apparently the therapists were familiar with this problem.
They would begin yelling, “Phil!
Phil!” Then he would
come to and start moving his arms to show he was awake.
For the moment.
There were a number of exercises that I can use in the future in our
community swimming pool, as soon as the weather warms up, which could
happen any day now. In the
meantime, I have seven more sessions this month.
Tally-ho!
Love, as always,
Pete
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