“I’ve learned a little from being injured and being worked on by the PT at school.”
“PT?”
“The physical therapist at school. He works mostly with the sports teams.”
“Do you think you could call him and get him to come here?”
“Mrs. Branch, I have no idea how to get in touch with him. And I don’t even know if he lives in the area.”
“So, I’m stuck with you.”
Easy, Mike. Hold your temper. I said, “I’m it.”
She was sitting in an overstuffed beige chair with her feet up on a matching ottoman.
“Lori told me it hurts in the middle of your back. I told her that’s a good sign, way better than your lower back.”
“Hmmph!”
Sounded like I impressed her with my expertise.
“Can you move?”
“Barely. Why?”
“Well, unless this is going to be a faith healing, I got to physically work on your back. Can you sit on the hassock so I can be behind you?”
“You have to touch me? And, young man, you don’t have to be sarcastic.”
“Yeah, Mrs. Branch, I’ll have to see where the problem is with my hands. And … sorry. Let’s have a truce for a while. I know it’s not easy being in pain. Do you need help getting out of the chair?”
“Let me try.”
She pushed the ottoman away with her feet, creating some space to try and stand in. She tried to lean forward and she had a sharp intake of breath the happens when you get a stab of pain.
“SEE! It’s no use.”
“Let’s not give up yet,” I said as I pulled the hassock farther away from her. “What we’re going to do is I’m going to pull you up, nice and gentle. Then we’ll get you seated on the hassock so I can work on your back.”
“Pull me up? Won’t that hurt?”
“Not if we do it right, and do it slow. Look.” I got in front of her and extended both my hands. “You grab my wrists, and I’ll grab yours. No way you can slip then.”
She gave me an evil look, but took hold of my wrists. Once we were locked in, I said, “Now I’m going to pull up at a 45-degree angle and you just keep your feet planted and kind of rock up, not trying to push with your legs. Let me do all the work. One … two … three.”
I pulled, and maybe I did it right, and maybe it helped that she was in such good shape and had all that dance coordination, but, in one graceful, painless glide, I had Mrs. Branch on her feet.
“My goodness!” she said.
“Now we do the reverse, and you sit down there.”
Just as painlessly, Mrs. Branch sat down.
“So far, so good. Now we have to find out where the pain is.”
“In my back.”
“Yeah, but we have to pinpoint it before we can do anything about it. What I’m going to do is press in places and you tell me if that’s it. Okay?”
She nodded. “Just don’t hurt me. I don’t need any more pain.”
It took about a minute of prodding and poking, but finally she jerked when I pushed and said, “OW!”
I said, “Here?” and pushed again.
“Ow! That’s it! Easy … easy!”
It was just to the right of her spine, at the height of her shoulder blades.
“Okay, now what I’m going to do is find exactly where the trigger point is, that’s the problem—it’s usually a lump like a swelling where the damage is. All that needs is to be pressed on hard and it kind of dissolves and you get better. (I thought I gave a pretty good explanation for only hearing pieces of that when someone was working on me.)