Physio and the Vuvuzela Theory

I think we can all agree that the 2010 World Cup vuvuzelas are tortuous and mind numbing. (Thank you, Urban Dictionary, for the perfect definition.) You don’t even have to be a soccer fan to notice these – maybe you are just walking by a cafe showing a World Cup game, or scrolling through the TV channels trying to find something to watch, and you’ll start to think “am I being followed by a swarm of bees?” or, as some commentators have put it, “is a goat being lead to slaughter nearby?” or "is there an elephant somewhere passing wind?" Watch enough of the soccer, and you sorta get used to them. But you know what else is tortuous and mind numbing, and that I won’t get used to? Physio.

Physiotherapists are unbelievably smart and they know all sorts of stuff about your joints and your body that you never knew. They went to school for a long time and charge high fees for a reason. But I have had physio for my knees twice now – once in the last millennium when I had surgery on my torn ACL and once this week for this – whatever this is. And both times the physio is positively primitive and barbaric. Three times a day, for a variety of sets and reps, I must lie on my back, tie a rope around my foot, and pull on it so my knee bends. It really hurts. (Then I must cover my knees with frozen peas.) This is the best they can do, with all their schooling and advanced knowledge? Explain to me how this is different than the medieval rack. It is truly both mind-numbing and tortuous. I’d rather clean. I’d rather poke myself in the eye with something sharp. Good god, I’d rather do yoga. (He he....)

Do you detect a touch of cranky? Perhaps. I haven’t been able to player soccer for 12 days now and it just might be getting to me. I complained to Steve about my medieval torture and he thinks I should embrace the noise of the vuvuzela. He suggests that I lie on the floor and do my physio exercises in front of the TV when a game is playing, turn up the volume really loud, and put my head right by the speaker. Bring on the brutal! (I’m not sure what this would accomplish, to be truthful. Two annoying things don’t cancel each other out and make life pleasant. Imagine, for instance, listening to a very loud Rick Astley song while scrubbing your toilet.)

Do you think maybe Steve is getting tired of waiting on me?