AZW@PT
As part of the ongoing campaign to break my spirit, the spine doctor has prescribed six weeks of PHYSICAL THERAPY. (PT) On the day of the first session, I marched (actually limped) into the facility with tons of confidence and a very positive attitude. The first order of business was filling out reams of required forms - (1) complete health histories of almost every human I’ve ever known and even some non-humans (2) all available information on every medication, legal and otherwise, that I’ve taken during my lifetime (3) dates and descriptions of all surgeries I’ve ever had - including toenailectomies (4) lengthy questionnaires about my eating, drinking and bowel habits (5) many questions about my political and religious affiliations (5) and lastly, a checklist of coupons I would like to receive in the mail. Then the eight-year old behind the desk made copies of everything in my purse including snotty Kleenex.
Finally, I was ushered into the back room and introduced to Phylissia Prunegate, my personal therapist. We exchanged a few pleasantries and I answered about 1,ooo questions - the same questions I had just answered on those forms. Maybe Phylissia can’t read. Before I knew what was happening, my body was thrown face-down on a table. I was told to close my eyes. She then began to stab at me with a red- hot fireplace poker, all the time saying, “Does this hurt? Does this hurt?” over and over. Hell yes, it hurt! After about twenty minutes, she flung me into the air and flipped me over onto my back. At this point she grabbed my right leg and somehow wrapped it over her shoulder and around her neck. As she pushed on my knee I heard her say, “Can’t you just feel that tightness leaving your body?” I didn’t have the heart to tell her I was on the verge of feeling urine leaving my body. And the torture continued…
These pictures will give you an idea of some of the other contraptions that were used to ease my pain.
These were placed on my wrists and ankles to make sure I stayed for the whole session.
This was placed around my neck to insure cooperation.
The straight jacket was very attractive.
I was able to sneak this photo of the director of the facility. He writes an individual torture exercise plan for each patient.
I know the question on every one’s mind is whether or not the PT is helping the AZW. Well …. I’d have to say it is helping. I no longer need to crawl from the couch to the bathroom. I can roll instead.
