Don't want to say I'm shorter than I was,
but I did enjoy this reunion with an old girl friend.
Contrary to popular belief, Scoliosis is not the general who stood
up to Caesar as he crossed the Rubicon, but a condition I've had most of my
life, more commonly known as curvature of the spine.
For the most part my scoliosis
never bothered me. It wasn't painful, didn't hinder my posture, and didn’t
interfere with my love life any more than any of the other messed up things
about my existence on Earth have interfered with my love life. But as I’ve aged
something has changed.
That is, I'm getting shorter. A lot shorter.
It began eight years
ago when people started telling me to stand up straight.
"I am standing up straight!" I would
protest.
"I don't know," they’d respond, "but I don't think standing up straight involves your chin getting up close and personal with your belt buckle.”
Then I began to hear
something even more disturbing.
"Perry, are you
getting shorter?" people would ask. "Because I’ve been noticing
you're no higher than my coffee table."
Though I hoped they
owned a coffee table so tall that LeBron James would bump his head on it, I suspected
that this was not the case. So I finally went to see Dr. Simpkin, the orthopedist.
The office assistant
took my height and weight.
"Five foot seven,"
she announced.
"Five foot seven! Wait a minute. I’m supposed to be five ten!"
"Actually it's
closer to five six."
Stunned, I entered Dr.
Simpkin's office.
"As the scoliosis
progresses and your spine curves like the Indianapolis Speedway, your posture
will get worse and you will get way shorter," he said casually.
If he was trying to
ruin my weekend, there’s no question that he succeeded.
"Let's have a
look at your back,” he said. I pulled
off my shirt.
"Extreme!" he
exclaimed.
The good doctor sent
me off to Tiffany, the physical therapist. "May I check the curvature of
your spine?" she asked.
I nodded. She ran her
hand down my back.
"Extreme!" shouted Tiffany.
Apparently my spinal
column has been designed by Zorro.
After Tiffany calmed
down, she recommended physical therapy and yoga.
I have also developed a few techniques of my own. I imagine I’m walking with a book on my head, imagine I'm reading the book if it’s about posture, and practice my own patented Jack Benny walk.
None of this will straighten my backbone
nor make me taller, but they may
halt or at least slow the condition’s progression.
So I will do it all religiously
because I do not want a back shaped like the world’s largest question mark and
I don’t look forward to the day when pint-sized comedian Kevin Hart starts calling
me "squirt."
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