Last week, in a dimly lit room in Manhattan's Biltmore Hotel, a crowd of robust young women gathered around a bubbling sitz bath, hidebound corsets, steel braces. Some bent over a baby kicking mightily in a whirlpool bathtub (Currence Underwater Therapy Tank). The place looked like a medieval torture chamber, but the young women meant no harm: they were only members of the American Physiotherapy Association, holding their 19th annual convention.
If physiotherapy means anything to the layman, it is apt to mean quackery and cultism—high colonic irrigations, spine juggling, nudist colonies. Actually, physiotherapy is an ancient and honorable art which uses...
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