Slouching through life

     In the seminal sports comedy "Caddyshack," Chevy Chase's Ty Webb says to Ted Knight's Judge Smails:

"Don't sell yourself short, Judge. ... You're a tremendous slouch."

     So am I. Just in an entirely different manner.
     My posture stinks on an epic scale. I've been made most painfully aware of this lately, because for the past few weeks, I've been locked in a varying-shades-of-painful duel with my aching back. Fun, it is not.
     I have been a serious sufferer for about eight years, thanks to degenerative disc disease at L5/S1 in my lower back. That much-compressed site has been the source of the lion's share of my woes. After a 2004 bout that left me flat on my back and drugged out of my mind for a full week, I've gone through the intervening years armed with heating pad and dandy muscle relaxant Flexeril at the ready. On a semi-regular basis, my wonky disc bulges, the muscles around it go into spasm to try and support it and I can't bend at the waist and have teeth-grinding, blood-sweating pain for a couple days at a crack.
     I reiterate ... fun, it is not.
     This episode was a bit different, however. Different location. Different initial muscle seizure. Different pain track. I agreed to visit my health care provider, Rachel (she who must be obeyed!) rather quickly, and was alarmed when she voiced concern that I may have popped a second disc, this time in the lumbar (mid-back) region.
     I was immediately dispatched for an X-ray.
     Luckily, it came back negative. It doesn't explain why a different muscle decided to act up, but I'm satisfied to know I still only have one "official" problem child in my nearly 42-year-old spine. Oh, and about that one ... not to be outdone, once the lumbar strain began to subside, L5/S1 decided to voice its displeasure at being temporarily overshadowed.
     You guessed it; it started acting up. Cheeky little bugger.
     But this time, I've been actively combating it with something other than heating pad and drugs. On Rachel's orders, a mighty pair of physical therapists have been given orders to whip me into shape, kicking and screaming if necessary.
     In eight years as a back patient, I don't think I've ever given PT a go.
     I like it. And it's helping.
     Besides the physical stretching that PT mavens Michelle and Becky have me doing, they've given me a good bit of mental insight as well.
     This posture business is a killer. Decades of god-awful office chairs have left me slouching toward oblivion. In trying to find a comfortable position -- where there is none -- I invariably end up listing toward one side or another, curled up in a ball, sliding halfway under my desk or some such nonsense. What's worse, I'm no longer aware I'm doing it.
     In the last week and a half or so, I've been catching myself sliding into a state of unmindfulness about my posture and/or abdominal muscles with alarming regularity. They say that admitting you have a problem is the first step on the road to correcting a bad behavior, but I have a mountain of habit to break.
     Besides the PT, I have one other thing helping me. Although I was told in no uncertain terms that cardio and the weight room at the gym were off limits until further notice, my lovely PT people cleared me to hit the pool. More specifically, I was given the green light to join in the new season of Hempfield Rec Water Pilates, which began last Monday.
     For a variety of reasons, I hadn't participated in that activity in about two years.
     I had forgotten how much I loved it. (I had also forgotten how freaky it is to be "weightless" in the pool for an hour, then exit and feel like you're zipping on a fat suit.)
     Very likely, I will not get buff in these classes. I will not lose weight with them alone. However, they provide several benefits critical to my war on weight. This form of exercise will, without a doubt, improve my balance, flexibility and core strength.
     Key, key and key. I also remain highly amused by the fact that in the water, my range of motion is that of a fit person.
     In the last couple days, the back has been getting more and more stable. I have a follow-up appointment with Rachel this Thursday, at which point I hope to be cleared for cardio and weight machines. Honestly, I've missed them.
     Until then, though, you can find me in the pool.
     I'll be the one not slouching.  

Short, but not so sweet

     Good heavens. My activity on the blogging front lately has oddly paralleled my general activity over the past few days.
     It's been out-and-out flat.
     A little difficulty I've lived with for years recently decided to rear its ugly head. No, I'm not talking about Supportive Partner Man (willing headbanger!), his de facto bro Mike and their odd Night Ranger fixation, either.
     My back, replete with chronic bulging discs and muscle spasms, has decided to renew its status as a pain in the butt.
     It had been a bit sore, then, when I was reaching for the shampoo in the shower late last week ... sproing! I felt a muscle in the left mid-back twist and utterly seize.
     Now it's Monday night and when I've not been at work — we journalists don't do "holiday weekends" — I've been in bed snuggled up to my other best friend, Mr. Heating Pad. Naturally, because most other people celebrate "holidays," my fabulous nurse practitioner, Rachel, won't be in the office until Tuesday morning. And I'm fresh out of Flexeril, damn it.
     At least I have the name of a local back group to check out. The doc I've seen for my back for the last eight years is based in Wyomissing, which is a tad inconvenient given that we're now living in Lancaster. I've changed all the other medics in my stable, I may as well change this one, too, right?
     Looks like I'll be working the phones in the morning.
     Keep those pain-free vibes coming.