Jackie Wells-Fauth
In the springtime of my marriage, I allowed things to happen that wouldn’t happen today in that same marriage. Mostly I am thinking of the fact that I used to take warm showers and my very young husband thought it was funny to throw a cup of cold water over the top of the door just to listen to me squeal. I didn’t appreciate it and it finally stopped after I explained the particular set of skills I possess that could make his death look like an accident.
It is somewhat ironic then that 40 years into the marriage I am looking at a fad that reminds me a great deal of those very early days of wedded bliss. Now, it has never been a habit of mine to chase after every fad that comes out in this life. I have not made a tic toc video or dyed my hair some unique shade of purple or tried the latest food craze in sushi. In fact, I am probably the person least likely to hear about a new exercise and jump right in to try it.
That’s why my obsession with cold showers (not provided by Roy) surprises even me. I first heard about it on my way home from work when a fellow on the radio was going on and on:
“So, if you want to really feel good and get rid of all of your minor aches and pains, just turn the shower to cold for the last 30 seconds to two minutes. Doctors recommend it and so do I. It will make a new man out of you.”
Now, I have no desire to be a new man and I had no intention of trying the cold rain treatment until I came home and discovered that neurologists were actually recommending it. Well? Was I brave enough to try it? I was pretty sure not.
Then came the night my leg was paining so badly that I finally decided, “What have I got to lose? It’s either do this or cut it off!” I was to remember that choice with fondness later.
My shower was not even enjoyable because of what I intended to do at the end. It’s a little like trying to enjoy your last meal, even when you know the electric chair awaits. I just couldn’t relax and have a nice shower. But, the throbbing leg kept taunting me, “I’m here with you for always. We both know you’re not going to hit me with a cold shower!”
Holding my breath and forcing myself with both hands, I cranked the shower to cold. I started screaming like a banshee…and that was only when a cold spray hit me. Gritting my teeth and stepping forward, I let the cold water hit my nice clean, warm skin and I directed the full wrath of that artic rain on the leg causing me troubles! That would teach it to complain!
The man who described this water torture on the radio said the recommended time was 30 seconds to two minutes, but “if you can stand it for 30 seconds, you can make it to two minutes, no problem!”
I beg to differ. If I could stand it for 30 seconds, that would be the end. I kept sticking a body part under the spray and then jerking back out. That was the coldest of all cold rains! I have read that some people – athletes in particular—take ice baths on purpose. Good for them. I spent 30 bone chilling seconds under that blast and I was a freezing, teeth-chattering, ice queen and I had no plans to go back for more. That was it, I promised myself as I stood by the bathroom heater in mid-July. Two minutes under that icy waterfall and I would have been a popsicle. Let me out of here!
And then an odd thing happened: my leg started to feel better. How could that be in the thirty seconds I had spent in the Alaskan tundra? At first, I was sure I was imagining it, but no—that leg actually felt better.
This was not good news! If it really worked, then I was going to have to do it some more and I had planned to retire my cold shower routine after its maiden voyage. Now, I might have to seriously use the method?
Thus has begun what I like to call my shower screaming years. Roy was upset. He was more than willing to throw the cold water on me if that’s all that was needed. And he wanted credit for trying to “help” me with cold water sprays years ago.
My showers are never quiet and sweet. I take a reasonable shower for the majority of the time, but when I hit that two minute mark at the end, on comes the cold water and out slips some of the foulest language I ever learned in a bar down by the river. Is it for everyone? Definitely not, but if you have a partner who thinks throwing cold water into your shower is funny, you might want to stop and assess the results before you offer to waterboard them with their own towel!
dropsinthewell 