The Spanish Inquisition Torture Machine

June 2011.


My Physical Therapist's Office.


I've never had physical therapy, so I had no idea what to expect. When I found the location of the physical therapist, I was shocked to see it tucked into a baseball training facility. Exercise machines lined the wall. Weights sat in the corners. And tables for the therapy itself were throughout. I'd dressed in a Chico's Travelers getup my first time out, but I immediately discovered that workout attire was necessary. This was a place for sweating.


And yes, I was in for a hard workout. Actually, I'd say that the first 3 weeks with my physical therapist were nothing short of torturous. No froo-froo massaging of muscles at this place. No, this was serious deep-tissue healing. You ever hear the expression, "searing pain?" There's a reason for that. When my physical therapist pummeled me after I'd been through my workout paces, it felt as if he was taking a hot iron and rubbing it up and down my calves and the soles of my feet. I would bite into a hand towel to keep from screaming out loud or dig my fingernails into the palms of my hands. I usually left feeling as if my entire body was bruised, and sometimes within the hour, bruises would appear.


But the pinnacle of the place there was something I called, "The Spanish Inquisition Torture Machine." Everyone else knows it as the Versaclimber. In fact, if you dial up Julia Roberts in "Sleeping With the Enemy," you can see Patrick Bergin using a Versaclimber in one of the scenes. This thing stands vertically. You put your feet in stirrups and hands on two handles. And then you "climb," as hard as you can. The first day I was on it, the physical therapist said, "Let's see you do 5 minutes." I made it for one, and I was dizzy with exhaustion.


The point of all of this was, the workout itself was brutal, but then it came time to heal and strengthen my legs and feet. I had to keep doing exercises at home, in between the visits. And I usually spent at least a couple of hours per day with my legs and feet in ice. I'd work out the muscle tension in the same fashion I'd seen the physical therapist work, and I had to grit my teeth while I literally pushed on bruises. Sometimes my dog would sit by my side, wagging his tail and placing his head on my knee while I yelled for the pain I was inflicting on myself.


Now, the cost of the physical therapy wasn't as much of an issue as the effects that this had on my income. See, my physical therapist was a saint of a guy. He had a special charity program for people who had high insurance deductibles, like me. He only charged me $20 per visit, and I was usually there 2 hours per day, 3 days per week. And I have to tell you, that was nothing short of a gift from God. I'll be grateful to that physical therapist every day for the rest of my life.


The real cost to me came in lost work time. For six hours per week, I was with the physical therapist. You'd think it would stop there, but after that, I was in so much pain that I could barely put two words together. I'm a writer. I depend on clarity of mind to do my job. I absolutely couldn't think for the pain. And there's no such thing as workman's comp for freelance writers, whose "injury" is pain from physical therapy, which prevents them from writing.


I made a decision into the first week of it. I cut back work from one of my clients by half. And I decided I would alone concentrate on her work and on my current pending assignments from other magazines. I would not market for new work. I would keep things as status quo, and I would focus on getting my legs and feet well again.


The problem was that about four weeks into the physical therapy, I could see the financial toll it was taking. I was paying out $503 every month for the health insurance premium. Then I was paying the physical therapist $240 (and I can tell you that without that charity program, I would have had to stop). Add into that the regular living expenses and feeding a growing child (who eats non-stop, by the way!). Suddenly, I didn't have enough to get by. It came up on me quicker than I ever expected.


Then I came up with a plan. I would find cheaper health insurance and cut my expenses, increasing my income. And I knew just how to do it.


Tune in for the next part of Mission Impossible: Health Insurance.