My Achin' Back Part Deux

Yesterday I began the tale of my back problems. No need to recap. If you missed it, just travel back in time and read yesterday's fascinating tale of woe. I just got home from a therapy session so let me continue my spinal saga.

When the doctor told me I would need physical therapy I pictured Swedish women massaging my aching muscles in a room filled with scented candles. I couldn't have been farther off the beam. The doc took me into the basement of his office. It reminded me of the room Ving Rhames and Bruce Willis found themselves in during the pivotal scenes from "Pulp Fiction". The was even an extra room in back for the "gimp". I was greeted by three smiling young men in peak pysical form. They seemed nice enough, but I was soon to discover that behind their smiles lurked the soul of the Marquis De Sade.

The torture triplets told me that the first thing we would have to do was stretch. They took perverse joy in seeing how non-flexible I really was. I was a little surprised myself. I didn't even know that I had a muscle running through my ass that needed to be stretched. I do , and it does. They kept stretching me and asking how it felt. How did it feel? It felt like everything I had been avoiding my entire life. Pain was never something I aspired to, but these guys were pain merchants.

I had to suck it up though, because the air in the dungeon was thick with testosterone. I didn't want to yelp like a sissy. I was only stretching, for God's sake. I focused on holding it together while my mind was screaming. That must be what it's like for those people who are in a coma, but still aware of there surroundings. On the surface I was calm, but inside I was a quivering hunk of man baby.

Then it was time to begin strengthening my "core". I never pictured myself with a core. I always just thought I had a gooey, nuget filled center. The dungeon master produced a large ball. I thought we were going to play four square, but again, I was wrong. I was ordered to sit on the ball and walk myself down so that only my heard and shoulders were resting on it. I really think there is no exercise for this. It's just a way to entertain the guys in the basement. I looked like that toy you see at the mall. You know, the one where it looks like a weasel is wrestling with a ball. I had to do "bridges" and then crunches. If a video tape was running during these proceedings, I could easily win some cash on "America's Funniest Videos". The Marquis told me that this would burn if it had been a while since I worked my abs. "Is a while 40 years?" I grunted through the pain. By the look on his face, you would have thought I punched his mama. "Damn, no that's a long time." "Well then, I guess it's been a long time." He didn't like my flippant response and made me do another set.

As much as it hurts, I'm going keep working at it. I can only imagine how my life will change with a strong core. The energy that will radiate from within will undoubtedly give me super powers. Either that or at least I'll be able to bend over to tie my shoe. Later...Brian