Out Behind
the Barn
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Broken bones. Missing parts.
Titanium joints. Scraped eyeballs. A gimp, a limp and a cane. Moving more
slowly every day.
“Pain is a brute dictator,” said Dr.
Backman, the quiropractico I saw this week in Mazatlan. “The more we hurt, the
less we move.”
He didn’t say—and—the less we move,
the more we hurt. But I got it.
And, yes, that is his real name. Dr.
Backman, the man who works with backs.
To my shame, I put myself in the
shape I’m in today. After hip replacement, three years ago, my physical
therapist, sweet, young, Arturo, told me I’d need to do exercises every day for
the rest of my life.
To my shame. He was young. I am an
older woman. We older women here in Mexico are respected, almost venerated. I
quickly learned I could bully Arturo with a look. A grimace of pain and Arturo
backed off, let me slide. My physical therapist in Havre never would have let
me get away with that. Quite the contrary.
Yes, to my shame. After six months
of gentle exercise with Arturo, I took a tip. Gone five weeks. Did I exercise
during those weeks? Come on. What do you think? Did I resume workouts on my
return? Shame on me.
Desperation got me to finally seek
help—not the direct pain but a side effect of the pain. I had begun moving more
slowly, feeling weaker. Fueled by my fear and that same stubbornness with which
I quit exercising, I will bully myself into following directions.
Frankly, what I must do looks like a
full-time job. But, Dr. B said for me to begin slowly, start with a couple.
Walk every day, small walks. Climb stairs. Slowly. And I can alternate dreaded
workouts with lovely moist heat treatments. I’ll use heat as my carrot.
A couple things on the illustrated
list terrify me. “Do you imagine I’ll ever be able to do that>” “You’ll be
surprised how quickly,” he answered. Easy for him to say.
What does surprise me is to learn
just how lazy I have become. Sure, I am busy every day with my housework, with
gardening, pruning and watering my extensive collection of flowers. Did you
know that a person can train herself to do all those daily chores without using
muscles of one specific leg?
I see by my clock that it is time
for another small walk. I’ll take the long way around to the only two-story
house on the rancho. I have permission from the owners to the outside climb
stairs. When I return to my casita, I have this stretchy thing I will do with
an elastic band. Then the heavenly heat. However . . .
Hip shot. Spavined hocks.
Sway-backed. If I were a horse, I would have to take myself out behind the barn
and shoot me.
Sondra
Ashton
HDN: Looking
out my back door
May 3, 2018
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