Are you with me, Doctor Wu?

It only hurts when I laugh.

Summer job. Cape Cod. Brewster Ice House. That’s when I threw out my lower back. Have you ever seen an industrial block of ice? It stands 3 feet 6 inches high, 20 inches wide and 10 inches thick. It weighs 300 lbs.

There were three of us, all in our late teens, responsible for getting these cold, wet gargantuan blocks from the truck, down a metal ramp and into the store room where the temperature was kept at a brisk 22 degrees Fahrenheit.

Our job was to take these blocks one by one to the ice-cutter, a machine that turns a block of ice into ice cubes. Six inch circular saws sliced vertically creating a grid on the top 1 inch of the block. Then a huge horizontal saw sliced off the top layer, creating 200 ice cubes. The block is raised an inch and the process continues. The finished cubes got shuttled down a ramp into another room where they were bagged in plastic and tied with baling wire. Bags of Brewster Ice would fill the freezers of supermarkets and gas stations up and down the Cape.

Signage today, on Route 6A in Brewster, Massachusetts

The only way to negotiate a 300 lb block of ice is to grab it with a set of steel ice tongs and gently rock it side to side as you pull it toward you to get it moving. Because it is ice, it slides with some ease across the metal floor or down a ramp.

It was while steering a block of ice that I yanked it the wrong way, and set off a spasm in my lower back on the left side. I took a day off, but made a full recovery in time to visit Edward Gorey, another story altogether.

I had lower back issues on and off for almost two decades until my mother-in-law, Nancy Graham, suggested acupuncture (which I had never done before) and referred me to Dr. Wu. His office was an unassuming home on MacArthur Blvd. I went there on an autumn evening after work.

After completing some paperwork, I was escorted to a treatment room. After a short wait, he shuffled in, looking very much like the embodiment of “alternative medicine.” He was clad in a wrap-around smock, loose fitting trousers and cloth slippers. I described my situation. He listened, then quietly studied my pulse for more than a minute. “Lie down here,” he said. He inserted needles in various places nowhere near my back. On his way out, as he switched off the exam light, he said over his shoulder: “Twenty minutes.”

Best treatment ever. After three sessions I was cured of that chronic malady.

The Eight Treasures, by J. N. Wu. Acrylic on canvas. Image from jnwu.art

It was not until later that I heard the rumor that my Dr. Wu is the titular character in the Steely Dan song Doctor Wu (on the 1975 album Katy Lied). Claude.ai helped validate my story by identifying two rumors that have been circulating for decades:

One holds that Wu was based on Dr. Jing Nuan Wu (1933-2002), an acupuncturist and artist based in Washington DC who emigrated from China, graduated Harvard, worked as a Wall Street venture capitalist, and later set up a Taoist clinic in DC in 1973, supposedly helping one of the band overcome drug addiction in the mid-70s.

Fast forward five decades, I am falling off a ladder. I was only a few feet up, but still there was enough time to have two thoughts: don’t hit your head; protect your back.

I was able to do both of these maneuvers. After all these years, I still know how to fall. Age, however, has affected my ability to land. So, there I was in the emergency room of my new local hospital, being tended to by a staff of professionals whose average age was less than the age of my youngest child.

The intake interview was straightforward: How did you fall? Did you hit your head and lose consciousness? What hurts right now? Can you move your neck/fingers/leg? On a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being the worst, how would you rate your pain?

These same questions were asked in pretty much the same order by a) the intake nurse, b) the lead ER physician, c) the radiology tech, d) my assigned nurse, d) my assigned doctor. By the third round, I felt like they were trying to check my story for consistency.

Diagnosis? Sprains in the knee and wrist, and a strained trapezius. All on the left side. Oh, and possibly two hairline rib fractures. Nothing broken. Could have been much worse. If I had to fall at age 71, this is a fortunate outcome. All I need is lots of Tylenol. And an ice pack.

I am not discounting the possibility of my having a guardian angel. In my case this might be a former venture capitalist turned Taoist medical practitioner.

Here is my takeaway: If God had meant 70-year-olds to climb ladders, he wouldn’t have created 20-year-olds to climb ladders. Or in my case, a 60-something brother-in-law with balance, caution, strength and confidence. I held the ladder.

John Graham affixing cupola atop our Amish designed “Gazebo in a Box” which arrived as hundreds of pre-cut pieces and hardware that John and I have been putting together over several weekends. Still to do: screens and a door, and staining/sealing. AmishGazebos.com.