Lockport Union-Sun & Journal — I’ve been having some health issues with sciatica. (I think the medical term is “pain in the arse” — my wife, calls it “a bummer.”) And so, I’ve been hauling my sore and sorry butt to therapy a couple times a week to see if they can get me “back in the game.”
Actually, the pain is more in the hip and leg area, but I wanted to use those immature – giggle, giggle – rear-end references to start the column. That’s just the way I roll.
My new pal is Corey the therapist. He – and co-worker, Brenda – have put me through the ropes in an attempt to get me up and running. (I’ll settle for normal walking).
Corey, trained in the field extensively, made his plan of attack by seeing where my level of pain stood. I told him that no tests were necessary — it hurt when I took my hat off entering the building.
“But you weren’t wearing a hat!” he reminded me.
“That’s because it hurts. I told you that.”
It wasn’t long before I was flat on my back and Corey – my new pal, the therapist – was twisting and pulling my legs in what seemed like an attempt at making pretzels.
“Hey, these legs are making me thirsty,” he cracked. (That’s an inside joke for Seinfeld aficionados.)
The third time I went in, he had a game plan down – formulated from the success of my previous trip. Corey – my new pal, the therapist – was good at what he did. We chatted as he worked:
“I heard that the Pope resigned his Office.” I commented.
“Yeah, I heard.”
“I wonder what’s up with that?” I added. “I thought it was strange enough that he took to Twitter.”
What am I saying?! You see, I’m in over my head here. I have no idea what Twitter is or what it’s about — and now, I’ve gone and casually tossed it into a conversation. It’s like jumping into the deep end of the pool after tying my hands and feet together.
So before we went much further, I confessed.
“Corey, I’ve never felt quite as old as the day I heard that an 85 year-old pope was ahead of me technologically. He was using Tweeters – or whatever it’s called. And I am not even faintly familiar with what it is.”
“Actually,” Corey said, “that’s one of the reasons he’s leaving the papacy.”
“How’s that, again?”
“He got in touch with some of his old pals, and they’ve decided to try to get the band back together. That’s why he’s resigning.”
“Are you serious?” I’m so gullible. (Somebody told me that once and I believed him.)
“Don’t you remember?” he pressed. “They had a hit called ‘Smoke on the Holy Water’ several years back.”
And then it dawned on me. It was part of his training.
Corey – my new pal, the therapist – was simply doing his job.
He was pulling my leg.
And that’s the way it looks from the Valley.
Tom Valley is a Medina resident. His column appears every Thursday. Contact him at firstname.lastname@example.org.Tom Valley is a Medina resident. His column appears every Thursday. Contact him at email@example.com.