Thursday, September 17, 2009

A Moment of Silence for my Anti-Ass

A few days ago, I wrote about how my poor anti-ass was being put through the ringer with this whole recovery business. It's been bruised, massaged, jabbed with electrified needles and today, it again got man-handled within an inch of its life. Right now, my anti-ass is probably lodging a human rights complaint with the U.N. and trying to claim refugee status in Brazil (why Brazil I don't know, but when I was there I was impressed by the sheer number of women wearing spandex shiny pants, so I suspect they are a pro-ass culture).

Today at physio, I complained to my physiotherapist that I feel as if my ass bones (the fancy name for them is "ishial tuberosity") are out of alignment and that my hip's been really sore because of it. She decided to investigate. This investigation soon found me lying on my stomach with my underwear around my ankles (for the second time in three days!) as she "palpated" the area to see what the problem was, (which, again, was not nearly as sexy as it sounds). I was just glad that there were no electrified needles involved. As I squirmed and winced, she informed me that my ass was black and blue, probably because of the vigorous ass massage I received. Also, everything in the area was severely swollen and inflamed, which was inhibiting my ability to walk. You know how I thought that all my hard work had finally allowed me to grow an ass? Yeah, not so much. It was just swelling.

I therefore spent the next 30 minutes lying on my side with my pants down around my ankles with four suction-cups suctioned on to my ass, which were hooked up to a machine that sent an electrical current into the area to calm everything down. Unfortunately, the area was so sensitive that I felt as if I was being electrocuted in a very minute way. Now, I have four red circular welts in the shape of the suction cups all over my ass, which goes nicely with the bullseye-shaped rashes there. (Yeah, disregard that last post about wanting to get back on the dating market. I think this may take awhile). What's next for my poor ass? Waterboarding?

But the disappointment did not stop there. I've been ordered to stay away from the elliptical machine, which sucks the big suck because getting back on the elliptical machine was one of the high points of my recovery. Also, my physiotherapists do not want me to go back to Illinois. If I go now, they say, I will simply learn to compensate for my lack of hip flexors and I will never walk properly. (Also, they want me to stick around to get more tests on the whole "nerve damage" business). It's a tough call. 

At least, however, I will soon have a distraction from all this soul-crushing disappointment. Today is S's rehearsal dinner, tomorrow is our spa day (no more anti-ass massages!) and then Saturday is the wedding. My hip is going to have to suck it up because we're walking down the aisle whether it likes it or not...and we're catching that bouquet even if we have to do a nose dive on the floor and cut a bitch. Because that's how we roll.

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