For the first time in my life, I have suffered from a lingering back problem that persisted throughout the whole summer. When a person lives in the arctic as I do, the summer is the time to live! As soon as the snow starts to melt, we throw on shorts and tank tops and start enjoying the outdoors with gusto. It’s as though we are finally able to breathe and feel it all the way to the bottom of our lungs. Edmontonians start running, walking, cycling, picnicking, bbq-ing, and playing all manner of sports outdoors once the ground begins to thaw.

Instead of cycling, running, and pretending to be able to play tennis this summer, I have been walking slower than a slug while bent awkwardly at the waist. If I dropped something on the floor, instead of bending over to pick it up, I would merely stare at it and utter, “huh.” My patience was tested while I waited for Jon to come home from work so he could pick something up for me. It was horrible. A girl just wants to be able to put her own socks on!

In order to get me back into shape, I enlisted the help of an athletic therapist. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Upon arrival, I shook the very firm hand of a man with a cheerful disposition and determined focus.

He immediately asked me to do things that weren’t possible without white hot pain shooting throughout my whole body. Things like touching my toes and standing up straight. Then he tested on my flexibility, which made me want to scream out in pain. Since I wasn’t the only one at physio, I clenched my teeth hard enough to hear them grinding together in order to keep the screams from escaping.

After I was able to breathe normally, he let me know that I was all out of alignment and that ‘pressure points’ were going to happen. Lying on the table, a small amount of panic gripped my heart. I looked around at the other patients and they seemed to be fine, so I didn’t run away in terror.

The first pressure point was my hip flexors. This involves the therapist finding a pressure point UNDER your hip bone to release it.

Have I mentioned that I am EXTREMELY ticklish?

Suddenly, I was laughing hysterically and in an epic amount of pain as a hand went wrist deep under my hip bone to release the tension. I have never felt such incredible pain and ticklishness at the same time in my life. I was no longer able to keep the screams in, and inadvertently caused the man to bleed a bit from the scratches I gave him while trying to free myself from the “pressure points”. It was intense to say the least.

The next pressure points were on my lower back and butt. I couldn’t see what was happening, but he must have been at least elbow deep on those ones. I managed not to scream, but felt a bit like dying for those few moments of my life.

Amazingly enough, after the torture was over, I could actually stand up straight and touch my toes. Unfortunately, my back was so messed up that it wouldn’t last for more than a day.

After three weeks of physio and pressure points, things weren’t getting better because I refused to just lie around and ice my back as directed by the cheerful, yet determined athletic therapist. I went to work, sat all day, and even put my own socks on. Apparently the ‘Donloree Puts Her Socks On While Her Back Is Hurt’ is horrible to watch. I had women at the gym offering to help me put my socks on because it was painful to watch me struggle to reach my toes.

During the third week of physio, I was in extreme pain and very low. I was unable to do any of the exercises and was near tears most of the time due to pain and discouragement. After not being able to complete leg lifts, bridges, or squats, I was instructed to do back raises.

Athletic Therapist – Lift up, squeeze your shoulder blades together and count to five.
DL – Ok. Onetwothreefourfive!
Athletic Therapist – Um…I only counted to 2. Was that five seconds?
DL – I counted to five. You didn’t specify seconds.
Athletic Therapist – (laughing) Ok. Five SECONDS. 20 reps. Go.

At this point, I got the giggles. It was either sob, or laugh. So laugh I did, hysterically.

I desperately tried to stop laughing while doing back raises on the table while a man did leg lifts and I woman rode a stationary bike. I am sure they thought I had lost my mind.

I was finally able to hold the laughter in after a few reps. I relaxed, took a deep breath, and burst into hysterical giggles and spit all over a stack of fitness magazines. I just couldn’t get a handle on the laughter. I did all 20 back raises while silent laughter made my shoulders shake uncontrollably.

I was so ashamed of my inability to keep the emotions under control that I nearly bailed on the next appointment. I am glad I kept the appointment, as it only got better from that day forward.

There are very few people that I don’t want to ever see again in my life. It’s a relatively short list, and now the cheerful, yet determined man is on the list. It’s nothing personal, but I don’t want to endure any more pressure points, and if I have to see him it’s most likely because I can’t stand or walk. I will be happy to never see him again, despite his cheerful, yet determined disposition.

I grimaced as I felt it hit my head, slide down my arm, and land on my leg that was partially in the car. I think I may have sworn a little bit under my breath.

As I stomped back into the office, everyone looked up to see who was storming past them.  I announced that I just got pooped on and hate all birds.  Everyone tried not to laugh, but there was much snickering.

I finally made it to physiotherapy and passed all my strength tests with flying colors.  During my first set of exercises which involved balancing on a large ball on my hands and knees, I was asked how I was doing.

Due to the happiness of how well my back was doing, I announced, “I’m doing great, I can even do one arm!”  As soon as the words flew out of my mouth, I realized I was being rather cocky about my skills while the rest of the patients struggled with their exercises.  

The physiotherapist responded with, “Well, it does look way too easy.  Let’s do something hard.”

As penance for having a big mouth, I was forced to do lunges backwards, squats on stability balls, and other things that should be reserved as torture methods for terrorists.  I found myself shaking like crazy while trying to  to complete the new exercises.  I was reduced to a weak, sweaty woman that was gasping for breath.  Who’s doing great now?

I suppose I deserve to be pooped on for being a physiotherapist braggart.  If I promise to keep my mouth shut at my next physiotherapy appointment, will the birds decide NOT to poop on my head?