Are Physiotherapists Gods?

I finally admitted that pain was not a comfortable thing and went to visit the physiotherapist. It’s not the first time I have hoved up to his charming establishment and, lets face it, probably not the last.

There are many unique and interesting things about physiotherapists that I have come to understand in my years of hurting myself (and my children hurting themselves) in unique and interesting ways. The first is that, as a breed, physios are peculiarly good-looking. There must be and explanation for this and I believe it lies in how they are trained. I have no idea how they are trained, except that it definitely involves spending time with a life-sized plastic skeleton. Every physio I have ever visited (which are curiously numerous) has one of these. The glaring conclusion is that these collections of counterfeit remains have mystical powers that turn quite ordinary students into veritable Adoni and Adonesses. They are probably known in physio circles as ‘the bones of eternal youth’ or some such.

Another thing about members of this branch of the medical sciences is that they believe in pain. Yes, they believe that us mortals suffer pain, but, more that it is quite acceptable, if not desirable, to inflict pain. They are of the no-pain-no-gain school of understanding. They have the power and they know how to use it. Not only do they prod, poke and manipulate in a way that leaves you praying for mercy, they then give you cute little print outs of exercises that you must do in order to inflict further pain on yourself. This is the physio road to salvation. And then they charge you, and make you buy raffle tickets, and smile their Adonis smiles.

The final, and perhaps most pertinent thing about physiotherapists is that they are right. When doctors, surgeons and fathers tell you things like ‘live with it’, physios perform their strange rituals with towels and rubber and the laying on of hands, give you your allotted penance, and hey presto! You are cured.

Ergo, yes. Physios are the pan-dimensional incarnation of Gods we are yet to understand. The only other creature who you will ever meet with such powers is that slightly plump woman, who somewhere in your murky past, cured all your ailments with a cwtch, a kiss better and a packet of milky buttons.