Date: February 2006
How we met: Please see prior entry.
Previous flirtations: Tried physical therapy this past summer. Went back to the doctor in December, had MRI in January. No, I'm not kidding.
What we did:
Yeah, I had an MRI in January. I had to sit still for 35 minutes so they could take pictures of the toe that "I hurt dancing."
Actually, the funny part about that is when my doctor reviewed the results, he said my injury was common to dancers...well, one of my injuries. Turns out I have two distinct problems: the sudden injury from the yummy sex (or the "I curled my toes too much stretching before dancing" injury) and a long-term injury from 25 years of dancing. Turns out putting all your weight on one toe is not the best idea.
So today I had my first session in my second round of physical therapy. The (single though unattactive) therapist asked how I had hurt it. For some reason, this threw me completely off my rhythm (man, I wish I'd been thrown off rhythm five years ago...then I wouldn't be in this predicament), and I could not remember my excuse. After a looooong pause, I remembered my "over-stretching" story.
Then the doctor reviewed my health records. He said, "Hmmm...very healthy. And your only medicine is "Dem-OOOO-lin," heinously mispronouncing the name of my birth control pill. This for some reason made for high comedy at the time, and I snorted while stifling a giggle.
He then made me walk so he could watch my steps. When we got back to the room with the table, he had me lie down, explaining that he needed to check my hips--they might have had something to do with my injury. I was so close to saying, "Yeah, them and my boobs were definitely contributors," but thought better of it.
He asked how long I had been dancing for. I calculated back...hmmm....I was 5 when I started lessons, took lessons right up until I was 30. Since then, I haven't taken lessons, but I have had sex. So I responded, "Twenty-seven years."
So now we got to the actual treatment: shoving electricity through my body, from that toe to my calf. ALL THIS DUE TO SEX. Unbelievable. I sat there for 12 minutes, reading an out-dated Time magazine, and thinking about the punishment I was enduring.
I have four more sessions to go with the electro-stuff, then we go on to ultrasound. Moral of the story: take care in your toe-curling, ladies. Meh, screw that. Enjoy the toe-curling and just watch what you do in ballet class.
FDS: 0 out of 10
How long it lasted: I was at the doctor's for an hour.
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