If Moses Hadn't Split the Sea (and Had a Little More Fashion Sense)

As I write this, I smell like a combination of old man cologne, shower dispenser hand soap, and little kid pee.

Yes, I just got back from the pool.

The pool.

Where I just finished swimming for the 17th time in 19 days since my most recent back appointment.

Where my most recent doctor - and my new best friend - wrote me a prescription for a super-anti-inflammatory and instructed me to "gradually return to strengthening, starting in the pool."

Yes sir!

Boy howdy!

I'd have written about this joyous, oh-so-joyous news much earlier, like with my phone in the elevator ninety seconds after I'd met with the doctor, but I've been so disappointed so many times before in this dreadful saga that I wanted to wait and see how it went first.

I've now waited and seen. I'd tried swimming several times before, of course, especially when things had first started getting bad - overdramatic gasp - almost eleven months ago. It had sucked. Every time. This time, though, whether because of the meds, or because of all the time that's passed, or simply because my back decided it's about f*cking time to get better, it's been okay.

I certainly don't feel good or well yet - not by any means. For starters, I just got my ass kicked by the two high school girls in the lap lanes next to mine, the ones I was racing without telling them about it. Even more, I've gone such an insanely long time without any meaningful activity that I know it's going to be a good while until I really start to feel like my old self again. Dr. Best Friend said he figures 3 to 5 months; I figure whatever he figures because I love that guy.

Still, whatever the qualifiers, it's almost inexpressibly delightful to be doing something active again, to feel like I might actually be healthy again sometime this decade, to be worrying a little less that I'm going to Costanza the rest of my life away on my wonderful parents' couch.

Boy howdy again!

Best of all, between the closest - and best - lap lanes being at the local Jewish Community Center, my convalescent beard being as absurdly prominent as ever, and this swimsuit* - I use the term loosely - being what I wear - I use this term loosely as well - to the pool, I've been getting the most wonderfully broad range of stares each time I get my swim on.

Some people seem to take me for a young rabbi, and look like they want to introduce me to their nieces or daughters. Some people seem to take me for a stripper, and look like they want to call the police. Some people seem to take me for one of the GEICO cavemen***, and look like they want to get a better deal on their car insurance.

All of these responses, of course, are perfectly acceptable to me. I'm swimming!

*If you think I'm joking about this suit**, you don't know me as well as you think you do.

**If you think it looks scandalous, it's at least twice as skimpy in real life.

***This is simply a joke, and a beard one at that. I do not have back or arm or any other kind of body hair like the GEICO cavemen thankyouverymuch.