Don Kirkland
Don Kirkland
By Don Kirkland | Wrangler Independent publisher
For those of us who have navigated life with a minimum of health worries, having back pain come crashing in on us in our late 80s is almost as bad as having relatives appear unannounced at the doorstep. And announcing they plan to stay for six months.
Actually, it’s not so much the unannounced part, or even the six months. After all, we can venture out when the pain of keeping Aunt Peg and Uncle Charlie entertained becomes its own kind of disruptive headache.
Having back troubles, especially when we’ve never had to deal with anything like that, is a real pain in the you-know-what. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Just ask me.
When my back started to hurt six or so months ago, I figured it was a fleeting aggravation that would go away on its own. You know, like a twisted ankle or a bum knee or a little cut on your finger from slicing open a section of cantaloupe for breakfast. No siree. This is the real thing: actual pain. And with it, actual life-altering disruption of the things we’re used to doing without much notice — yes, for those seven days a week mentioned above and, for the most part, that same around-the- clock misery.
To suggest I’ve gotten used to it, well, I guess you could say that. I can hobble around when I venture out, as long as I make sure I see something I can lean on if I think I might tip over — maybe even, god forbid, fall. That likely would result in an outcome even worse than a sore back, and none of us can say we haven’t heard the horror stories that come from old people taking a tumble.
So as of the last couple of weeks upon direction of my primary care doctor, I’ve been convening twice a week with Tracy, a no-nonsense Banner Health physical therapist whose training seems to have included the admonition to start the reconditioning regimen with moderation. This was a welcome departure from the PT I had once before at a different clinic, where all I can think of is that the therapist must have been absent the day the teacher offered those two important words, or something similar, about dealing with new patients: Go easy.
So on it goes. I think I’m making progress with Tracy, although both she and I admit we can’t predict the outcome.
I gave my longtime friend Dave O’Grady, who I ran into the other day at Safeway, a condensed version of my back situation. Dave, like so many other people I know, either have had back troubles or know someone who has. Including him.
What he says worked for him when back trouble struck was paddling around their backyard pool. Counseled Dave: Massage sessions, painkiller pills, traditional therapy be damned. Those backyard pool sessions worked better than anything else.
Now that it’s warmed up a bit, I think I’ll try a few laps. But I don’t think I’ll be taking my sessions with Tracy off the calendar just yet. Wish me (us) luck!
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