Yesterday, I had my second “conservative therapy” session with the chiropractor. He is trying to create some space in my tightened-up, strapped-down, stiff-as-an-old-ironing-board hip joint, so I’m going in for traction treatments twice a week. It’s not as bad as it sounds, but I’m kind of ouchy from it. It involves lying on a table that moves slowly back and forth. At the far end is an ankle cuff attached to a strong piece of elastic. As the table top moves away from the tether, it creates a gradual straight-line pull on the leg. Returning to position creates slack, and the process repeats. Simple concept, really.
I asked the doc about the chances of my leg coming clean out of its housing. He laughed. Then I asked him if the traction would score me some more height. The conversation went like this:
Him: So how tall you wanna be?
Him: How tall are you now?
Him: That’s a stretch.
Me: I know. A tall order.
Heh. RAT FINK AND DOCTOR S. WHY YOU SO PUNNY?
After the yank-and-crank, I put on what I call electric pockets. They’re electrodes embedded in a soft vinyl housing, covered with a sterile sheath and applied directly to the skin. At the other end of the wires is a machine that controls electrical pulses. When they buzz in, the muscles surrounding a joint contract; when the charge releases, they relax. Feels very weird. Then he does the actual physical manipulation (essentially a deep massage of the afflicted area), which, honestly, is horribly painful. Boo hoo. Kwy me a wivver.
I don’t know if it’s going to work or not, and neither does the doctor. But I like him a lot and have known his family for years. He is good people, and I trust him. If it goes south, next stop is an MRI. But until then–yank, crank and buzz.
I’d like to yank and crank on some of my students. It’s a rite of passage, I guess. Spring fever. Callitwhatyouwill. All I know is that my choral rehearsals are entering the obligatory dental surgery phase. The pre-graduation muck-up. Corpses With Attitude. Delightful, ja? Must I achieve nuclear fission a second time this year? I’m impatient for them to do well. They struggle with believing that I want the absolute best for them. It’s this time of year that my bag of tricks looks pretty skinny.
I’m also impatient for this week to get done. Tonight, the Js come for a sleepover. We’re going to BFF Kay and Bob’s for pizza and to play with Drago, their new puppy. They also have a box of antique toys that Justin and Jake love to get into. Should be a fun evening.
Then, tomorrow morning, it’s off to the Motor City for some long-awaited R & R. And food and video poker. And food.
But for now…off to my last workday this week. I hope the 18-and-under crowd are nice and melodious and happy and brilliant at dinner. TGI Finkday!