Out of whack

Little did I know 

when I took this picture in the Glasgow airport, 

it would soon come to symbolize 

my physical being!

It’s upright – 

it almost looks ‘normal’  - 

but if you look closely, one of the legs is a bit ‘off’… 

add in some tears, whining and begging 

for prescription meds – and yup, 

that’s me! 

I wish I could say my leg injury and ‘gimpness’ is getting better – 

but that would be a damn lie.

The day after I had physical therapy, 

I thought it might be… 

but I think that illusion was only because the pain of physical therapy had been SO bad 

that when it stopped, I felt better. 

I was hoping that was a generalized reaction… 

but, NO! 

My physical therapist identified – 

in a way that felt very professional and clear – 

what the problem was (it’s connected with the musculature of L1) 

and he prescribed a series of stretches and  exercises 

to do at home, 

continuing the work started in his office. 

Because I was “so tight in my hips”
(and those who know me 

will know how hard it is
to ignore a perfectly good straight line 

and try to keep it professional 

and not scare the help),  

Attila
(let’s just call him that since its easier than continually typing
‘my physical therapist’) 

used his elbow and all the strength in his 6’5"
very toned body

in a series of circular rotations
across my hips and thighs – 

ostensibly to loosen up the muscles
allowing them to stretch better. 

It was all I could do to not cry like a girl during the whole torture routine – 

it was like child birth AND passing a kidney stone at the same time. 

I kept telling myself I could get through ANYTHING 

if it wasn’t going to last forever… 

besides, I’d never had physical therapy before, 

what did I know about what it’s supposed to be like? 

By the time I hobbled through the day at work 

and made it home however, 

my ass felt like it had swollen to twice its size – 

and trust me, that isn't a good thing. 

One look in the mirror confirmed my fears…

Again, trust me on this, you do NOT want the camera in focus –

just picture a bloated, 

 plucked Butterball
with bruises all over it – 

and that was my ass and thighs! 

Is therapy supposed to hurt so much?

I know ‘talking’ therapy was frequently a kick in the ass 

and I did that for 8 years! 

I guess I just didn’t figure that trying to get in shape would be this painful! 

Now, not only is walking painful, but so is sitting and lying on my back! 

And speaking of backs 

I was also given a red pool noodle
(to place on the floor and roll around while on my back to increase blood flow)

 and “Back Magic” 

a piece of hard plastic that I’m supposed to stretch over backward 

several times a day to improve flexibility…

and, if I can ever sit down on the floor again,

 I’ll get right on that part of the regime!

I got a note from my secretary yesterday, 

reading 

“The Spanish Inquisition called; they want their equipment back”! 

I’m not in any shape to fight them.

They can have it -
actually the sooner the better!