Yes, the saga of the Kaiser Torture Chamber continues.

It begins at the end.

I have a wonderful friend who delivers me to and picks me up from my appointments with pain.

As I walked out of the chamber into freedom this past Thursday, he was waiting for me in the lobby.

“Why are you the last one to come out?”

“I guess I am slow.”

“Slow is an exaggeration, I think. Seniors came out the gate flying by in wheelchairs. It was like watching the Aged 500. Silver-haired doyennes on walkers twerked their way to the elevator. I think I saw one man on crutches moonwalk his way out the door. And then there is you, the last woman standing. . .I guess.”

“I suppose I am just slow!”

I try to stand a little taller on my crutches.

I am not amused.

I do not tell him that today was a new day for new devices to challenge my pain threshold.

Yes, the gatekeeper sent me back to my nemesis the upright bicycle and this time I was able to do full revolutions, kind of, slowly and backwards. I try not to watch those golden show-offs in front of me vigorously pedaling there way into nowhere. If they were on the street on a mobile bike, they would have reached Ross (retirement community about fifteen miles away) by now.

As I try to figure out how to gracefully dismount the behemoth without revealing all my personal business, the gatekeeper points to a new metal monstrosity.

“Sit down,” he says with a slight cackle.

I sit down.

“Throw your leg over to the other side of this bar.”

“Ahm, you want me to straddle this bar. Really, straddle? I can’t even remember how to spell straddle and you want me to straddle…?!”

I groan. I manage. I am tired.

The gatekeeper points to this big black metal plate vertical in front of me, “Lift up your left leg and place your foot against this plate.”


“Okay, so maybe not that leg. Let’s put the surgical leg up and put your foot against the plate.”




There are cricket sounds followed by hysterical laughter!

The gatekeeper looks at me and says, “I guess we will have to figure out something else for your quads.”

You think!

How do I unstraddle this thing?

Oh, and yes, I did go to the rack to be stretched.

No, I do not want to talk about it.

I escape from the chamber and crutch my way into the lobby, holding tightly to my bag of ice.

“Why are you the last one to come out?”



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