The back? Is farked.
Apparently I’ve got a bulging disc.
I told Miami Vice Guy (aka physio) how I found that deeply ironic.
He asked how so.
I pointed out that everything else on my body was bulging so clearly my vertebrae thought they’d get in on the act.
He said that yes, carrying excess weight did make me more likely to suffer back pain.
I just buried my head into the table. I mean, what else was there to do.
So my days at the moment are punctuated with me lying on the floor or bed, on my stomach, my upper body on several pillows in some pathetic nod to an upward dog or baying moon or sunrise spring or some other stupid yoga pose. Always hated yoga.
Here’s the thing.
Apparently if I do this for 20 minutes 8 times a day, don’t drive, don’t sit, don’t life and do minimal bending (in a true aerobic guaranteed to make you fart squat fashion) I should be markedly better by the weekend/beginning of next week.
Just in time to sit for hours beside a hospital bed and sleep in a hospital cot bed.
Miami Vice Guy was recommended to me by Sadieandlance who bulged her disc a few years back and well, now I owe her.
I mean, on Monday morning I could barely lift my feet off the floor and after he saw me first thing on Monday morning (I KNOW) I could at least walk.
I am being so vigilant in my no driving, no lifting, no sitting, bay to the moon stretching that while I still have searing pain through my lower back and down the front of my thighs I can at least move around and not cry out in pain at the slightest of movement.
But riddle me this interwebettes, what is it with these amazing therapist types and their penchant for just being downright kooky?
Miami Vice Guy clearly decided that the windblown pouffant do which is basically a mullet in a wind tunnel and colourful very crisply ironed collared shirts with just one too many buttons undone was his look.
And if he has the power to make me walk without pain then who am I to quibble.
But I bet, I BET you all have some kooky quirky medical professional too – go on, share.
You know something else? When you’re not really allowed or capable of doing anything or going anywhere, there’s really not much to talk about.