In an effort to lighten the load of my doctors and kind of spread my ailments around a variety of medical professionals last week I paid a visit to the physiotherapists. I’ve never been clear about the difference between physiotherapists, chiropractors, osteopaths and the like so I made my choice scientifically – I walked past a physios while out with the dogs and thought, I’ll give that a try.
If I had ever vaguely thought, you know a visit to the physio might be interesting or at least make a topic for another retirement blog, that thought was rudely dashed at the point when the physio, a seemingly otherwise nice man called Graham, and how nasty could somebody called Graham actually be, asked me does that hurt?
I suppose to be fair, with our masks on, it was difficult to recognise the silent scream (in space nobody can hear you scream) but maybe the fact that I was levitating at the time might have been a clue. Hovering about 10 centimetres above the couch without visible support. These beds are quite narrow I chirped or is that just the perspective from up here I quipped? They’re narrow, Graham replied, so we can get at you. Quite so.
I suppose I’d been lulled (nice word) by my visit to the masseuse. All quiet and gentle and sweet-smelling. Oh, and no pain just a modest caressing. Also it was cheaper although shorter and the bed was wider. But I’ll come back to the price. So nothing gentle here.
There were the usual comments that I tend to get from physios – you’ve got the tightest hamstrings I’ve ever worked on. I have learned that this is not a compliment and not to bother saying thank you. You’re out of balance, you’re leaning, you’re very stiff / tense, you know all the usual stuff. Very predictable
Just turn over, Graham said. Such a simple request and yet I doubted that I could, so battered was I from the previous pummelling (another nice word). No pain, no gain, repeat after me. And to be truthful, the massage, which as I say, was pain free, didn’t help at all other than it was quite relaxing. So go ahead, hurt me G. And he did but at least he was polite enough to enquire, ‘does this hurt?’ But anything this painful must be doing be good, I thought.
Actually that’s not what I thought at all, I thought if I could get up off this bench or whatever it is, I’d knock your head off or at least I might have many years ago. Many, many years ago. At this point I could barely move let alone get off this bed / couch.
What was scary was how unprepared I was for this encounter. The further we went with the process and the more questions Graham asked me, the more I realised how beat up I was. I can’t remember how old I was when I had my left cartilage removed, late twenties maybe. Yes, we went back that far.
The operation, which in those days was a brutal thing, called for the total removal of the cartilage through proper surgery, key-hole was, as far as I was concerned, a distant aspiration. Bone on bone I seem to remember was a key phrase at the time.
I was, as I recall, in hospital for about 5 days and off work for several weeks. And because I unwrapped my leg under the effects of the anaesthetic and it was never straight, I never quite walked properly thereafter. I was always compensating just a little.
Which Graham thought possibly had put my whole body out of alignment to the extent I now, he said, had one leg (my left leg) longer than the other. This didn’t quite make sense to me. I know when we’re out walking I have a tendency to lean to the left or wobble to the left because Mrs Summerhouse often informs me that’s what I’m doing. Now call me simple-minded but if my left leg is longer than my right then wouldn’t I lean to the right and walk round in circles in a clockwise manner rather than anti-clock. And also, given I had a bit taken out of my left leg, shouldn’t it now be shorter? Anyway I put doubts aside and listened to Graham or as much as the pain would let me.
He thinks my compensatory walking meant I was storing up problems for later and that later is now or at least the point when the two ice falls on my hip had exacerbated this damage and caused my left-leaning to really kick in although not kick with that leg. I’m not entirely convinced by this explanation as I managed to get by in a variety of sports (admittedly not to any high standard) over the years. But who am I to question? Oh, that’s right I’m the one paying £89 for an hour of pain. Great idea don’t you think?
Since this visit things have changed, the pain in my hip has definitely decreased, the pain in my calf stayed about the same and an entirely new gout type pain (of which I have written before) has transferred from my feet to my calf just below the pain that took me to the physio in the first place. So go figure. I’ll mention all this to Graham when I go for my next session, in two week’s time. Yes, that’s right, not content with an hour’s worth of pain, I’m going again.
By the way I’m thinking of changing the focus of this retirement blog to one focusing entirely on medical problems in retirement. At least I’ll never be stuck for a blog topic.