I’ve recently started going to an osteopath, because as far as I’m concerned, I’m FAR too young to be thinking of hip replacements and shit. I’m in a stupid amount of pain which has gone on WAY TOO LONG, and I’ve finally succumbed to osteopathy. I had my first session last week Tuesday. It was great! Andrew is lovely and a bit blummin brilliant, which, y’know, helps.
However, there were a couple of things I overlooked in rushing to my first appointment last week (running slightly late because I was staring at @motherscuffer’s boobs and children during a Skype consultation, standard).
I arrived, hot and sweaty, which didn’t cause any immediate concern. Until I realised I was going to have to strip down to my underwear. And then realised I wasn’t wearing pants quite as big as I would have appreciated. I sure as hell wasn’t wearing a thong (because I’m not insane and also, I don’t need to feed my ass anything), but even my old comfy pink and blue stripy pants from H&M weren’t as big as I would have liked. Even more so when I remembered I had a (fresh, thank god) panty liner which I could guarantee wasn’t *quite* in the right place.
Thankfully, I’ve pooped in a birthing pool and on a hospital bed in front of numerous people, and a few others have seen a child or two expelled from my crotch, so dignity was long gone out the window. I still wept inwardly when he hoiked my leg up under his armpit and I realised I wasn’t exactly, um, “trim”. I confess I got home and admired just how much forest was protruding. Note to self: sometimes it’s still nice to have a tidy front garden.
It didn’t take long to forget the worst parts of the consultation, as, for two whole days I felt GREAT. Sweet LORD I could actually lift up my right leg and not scream, I could actually pick up Isaac and give him a cuddle, and the sweet joys of being able to sit on the sofa without feeling like I was being kicked in the back was UHMAZING.
And then pain set back in. To be fair, Andrew did warn me to take it easy (I kind of did) and to appreciate that the exercises would not be easy (I sort of knew). By Thursday, holy sweet baby JESUS I bloody hurt. So at 3am, I lay in bed wondering when is it appropriate to contact Andrew, and text something like OMFG YOU BASTARD WTF HAVE YOU DONE TO MY BACK I AM IN AGONY YOU ASSHOLE. I mean, he’s a LOVELY bloke, but I was pretty sure he had secret plans to kill me by this point. Only, he was doing it in such a way that would make him look innocent. Y’know, “ohhh look, I made your back feel GREAT, and you can walk and stuff, and aren’t I lovely oh by the way did I neglect to mention that by the weekend you will probably want to chop off other limbs to distract from the pain”.
I still did some of the exercises. That lasted about 1.5 minutes each time, since I pretty much couldn’t move. Hah! Hilarious.
By sheer luck/miracle/pity from The Gods, my appointment this week was moved from Weds and brought forwards to Tuesday (yesterday).
I still hadn’t mowed the front lawn, but I sure as hell had a decent pair of granny pants to wear. Disappointingly, as soon as I put them on, I remembered why I hardly ever wore them. Too granny-fied? No, I remembered they gave me a severe case of the Camel Toe. Awesome.
So what did I do to compensate? Well obviously I layered up with 3 of the slimmest panty liners I could find, in order to stop my vagina from eating my knickers (why couldn’t it be my ass? I don’t mind my ass hanging out, why couldn’t that eat the pants instead?). There’s nothing like turning up to an appointment, stripping down to your bra and pants, and trying to yank your knickers out of your vagina without your osteo seeing and thinking you’re trying to give yourself some.
It’s really tough to do.
Anyway, thinking I was all set and totally on the ball this time, I lay down on the table and then my stomach rumbled. And then I remembered I’d had a bad case of wind all day. I hadn’t actually thought about how I was going to control my ass from letting one go, while stopping my crotch from eating my knickers, all the while with a bent leg rammed under Andrew’s arm. It’s amazing how, when you’re desperately trying to think of distracting conversation, your mind can go reeeeeeeaaaally blank, and all you can think about is whether the fart will be ripe because of the 9 hour barbecued pulled-pork you’d eaten the day before.
On reflection of the two sessions I’ve had so far, I have come to a couple of conclusions.
1. I wish I’d tried this osteo before because, even though I’m in a lot of pain, there is already significant improvement.
2. I’m gonna need some bigger pants.