Last week I found myself at the Center for New Health Options for a bit of Physical Therapy, if you know what I’m saying. (I’m saying that my back has been bothering me for nearly three months, and our insurance covers physical therapy. They do NOT cover a new mattress. They DO cover 80% of an IUD installation, and I’ll be doing that on September 15th! Hello there!) After the paperwork was filled out and the proper introductions were made, Catherine, my therapist, took me back into an exam room to work up a general evaluation.
Catherine: Just stand against the wall, and I’m going to take some notes about your posture. Do you want me to tell you what I find as I go?
Me (Feeling curiously naked, yet fully clothed. In sweats!): Sure! Let’s hear it!
Catherine: Your left hip is slightly higher than your right hip, and as a result, your left leg looks slightly shorter than the right leg. Your arms hang in front of your body instead of to the sides. That’s because you are slightly hunched over. Your left shoulder is a bit higher than your right, and your head and neck are sitting about a half inch to an inch off-center toward the right shoulder.
Catherine: Yep. Let me take you to a mirror so you can see what I’m talking about.
We walked to a room down the hall where Catherine stood me in front of a huge mirror and once again pointed out my slants, slopes, tilts, and warps. Before the appointment, I had never noticed just how crooked I am. But now it’s all I can see.
This is me on the outside, and if you look closely, you can see how my neck and head are choosing to side with my right shoulder. (It’s a mirror image, so right is right.) Also, please know that my skin is the same color as the wood on the bathroom door, and my dress matches the walls! You come and go, karma chameleon!:
This is me on the inside, sitting on a chair in our dining room and thinking about peach pie. Tis the season, you know!:
(I used to think of myself as being a bit Rubenesque. Now? I’m a total Picasso.)
After I came to grips with being all asymmetrical in awkward places, Catherine put me on a table where we engaged in myofascial release, which is quite an amazing thing. (Picture yourself lying down with someone’s hands in your mouth. Suddenly, you begin to feel the sensation of butter melting in your head. Your neck is no longer aching. We are in Xanadu.)
I’ve been approved for five more visits, one of which will involve the stretching out of my C-section and appendectomy scars. (I’ve been told to wear shorts. At this point in time, I don’t own a pair of shorts. Things are about to get Very Interesting.)