It’s not like I needed them anyway.
Wednesday, saw another Osteo appointment. I confess I look forward to the appointments mostly for pathetic and slightly weird reasons. 1) It’s an opportunity to get out of the house (yes, seriously). 2) I like the smell of the room (yes, really). 3) Mr Osteo is lovely and makes me laugh with his stories about his girlfriend fails. 4) IT MAKES ME FEEL BETTER.
However, I become apprehensive about appointments when I become blasé about them. Which seemed to happen on Wednesday.
Obviously, OBVIOUSLY, I forgot to check I had on suitable Osteo Pants. There’s nothing like walking into the waiting room, sitting down cool and calm, and then realising you’re wearing the wrong pants. It’s at the this moment, obviously, OBVIOUSLY, that I start sweating. Because y’know, LIFE IS JUST TOO EASY SOMETIMES.
I have my regular, not-quite-granny-pants on, I’m not trim, I’m sweaty, I need a wee and I haven’t eaten so I’m full of wind. Obviously. OBVIOUSLY.
As per usual, I was greeted and told to go through and strip down. Which I did at lightening speed, because I needed to check, um, stuff. So, I was super delighted when I looked down to see I was wearing reasonably dark pants which wouldn’t show up a sweaty front bum patch. I was dismayed, however, to see a ton of straggles of hair protruding from my pant at the tops of my legs. I mean, I tidy up, but I don’t mow the lawn because DANG that stuff itches like bitches when it grows back. Needless to say I started shoving the stray hairs back into my pants all the while praying that Mr Osteo would not forget his usual courtesy knock before returning into the room.
He knocked and entered, just as I crammed in the last hair. And wondered how hairy my ass might be, since I hadn’t checked in a while.
It was all ok! I was fine. He was fine. IT WAS FINE.
I didn’t even panic so much when he started with back massage and I had to put my face in the hole in the bed table thing. Of course, this was the point when it occurred to me that people with colds and are recovering from mild bronchitis tend to snot every where, and it’s usually free-flowing. Which became apparent when I did turn over and pretty much snotted into the hole.
This was the point where my lovely caring Osteo realized my nose was super blocked, and decided to try and get me to say “A one way ticket to Nottingham please”, and then fall in fits of laughter. He’s such a lovely bloke (yes, sure). Of course I then threatened to snot over him. Because I’m nice too.
The good news, is that after quick manipulations, declaring how huge my Dr Marten’s boots were (“Bloody hell, they’re massive!” “Yes, thanks Andrew, my size 8 feet are huge, I appreciate you pointing that out.” “No no, *laughing* I meant they’re really tall” “Tall? Dude that ain’t nothin. I’ve got WAY bigger.” “*bemused silence*”) and clenched faces (I NEED TO WEE AND I CANNOT FART BECAUSE IF I FART I WILL WEE AND WE WILL DROWN IN A SEA OF NOXIOUS SMELLING WEE), I am told I don’t need to be seen again for 10 – 14 days. YAY ME!
It’s amazing being able to move around and stuff, and wincing only half as much as I used to. The pain is still there, but the intensity is a frillion times less than what it was. I’m to do core strength exercises; and though Mr Osteo keeps suggesting Pilates but that bores the shit out of me, so I’m sticking with hooping (and trying to see if I can find someone who does Hoopilates). I can hula hoop for about 30-45 minutes now and it’s a fucking cool workout, so I’m hoping it works the applicable muscles.
So now, just to get through the next 2 weeks, wearing whatever pants I like, and not breaking myself. And also, not wondering if he’s telling me to come back less because he’s offended by my no Osteo Pants.