Takes a lifetime to prepare for being old

Bette Davis once said “Old age ain’t no place for sissies.”

Since developing back and hip problems I can relate.

Things don’t move like they once did; if I get down on the floor it’s not a certainty I’ll get right back up, and getting out of bed the morning after a day of physical activity is no fun at all.

link Karl Terry

Some mornings I roll out of bed looking like a question mark, others it’s more like half a pretzel. Mowing the lawn with my hips twisted sideways has become a real problem.

Finally, after several months of no improvement on the hip I went to the doctor who prescribed an arthritis medication and six weeks of physical therapy.

I’ve been a big fan of physical therapy for quite awhile. Yes, it was easy to extol its virtues when it was my wife or some other family member doing the work. Lately the rubber’s hit the road right here in my own wheelhouse (please excuse my mixed metaphors, exercise has me light-headed).

I’m not sure if it’s a good thing when you know most of the other patients in the therapy center. I’m not sure if it’s a good thing that those people include your mother and her friends and one of your grade-school teachers.

I’m pretty sure it’s not a good thing that those my age or younger are there for sports-related injury rehab. I guess if I were going to be included in that group it would require participating in a sport.

I probably should have kept playing handball. At least I’d have a good excuse for being stove up.

Physical therapy’s not that bad though; besides all the patrons I was even acquainted with the lady who runs the establishment before I required her services. So walking in the door there is a lot like stepping into an episode of “Cheers” where everyone knows your name. The regulars find their place and get right to it, even if the purveyor is busy serving other patrons.

I think it must take a special and very caring type of person to do the job of physical therapist. Many of us patients put ourselves in her hands because of poor lifestyle choices yet she patiently listens as I complain about the cold, damp weather making me hurt more than usual.

My wife always made a point of telling me anytime her PT sessions were particularly bad, that the therapist “really had it in for me today.”

Hogwash, I always thought, until the day I went in and my own personal slave driver was wearing heels. Chunky, safe heels and nothing all that impractical for a physical therapist mind you, but somehow that extra 2 inches seemed to give her the confidence to demand extra from me that day.

I went home that night and apologized to my wife for doubting her. I also told her if I came in one day and saw my physical therapist in stilettos and a skirt I would run away as fast as my bad hip would carry me.

Karl Terry writes for Clovis Media Inc. Contact him at: [email protected]