clevermanka (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
clevermanka) wrote2011-12-13 07:16 am
clevermanka) wrote2011-12-13 07:16 am
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How very typical
Well, shit. Guess who didn't understand that Piriformis Syndrome was something that (much like an autoimmune disorder) doesn't really go away. Ever. And can come back with a vengeance. Yep, that'd be me!
By yesterday afternoon, my left hip was on fire, and my foot was starting to go numb. By the time I got home, the pain was all the way down to my calf, and pins-and-needles feeling had made it up to my knee. I had![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mckitterick do a similar manipulation of the tissues that Rob Jones, our P.T., did earlier this year while I stretched out the muscle. Ten minutes after that, it hurt worse! Yay!
I dealt with it as you'd expect: Shot back a glass of rum, poured a second, and limped up the stairs, whining all the way. Unfortunately, I think I'm sensitive to something in the rum, because within ten minutes I swelled up like whoa--something that probably didn't help the inflamed muscles in my hips. Oh, I took five ibuprofen, too, which as far as I could tell, didn't do bupkis.
What triggered this shockingly fast development, I'm not sure. I've been sitting a lot at my desk with very few breaks (it's my busy season after all). I'm worried that the burpee project might have exacerbated something, too. I know that when I went through this before, any squat below about 120 degrees triggered a flare-up. Which is why I quit doing squats (sadness) and relied on lunges. There's a squat-ish movement, obviously, in the burpees, and I didn't even think about it irritating that piriformis muscle (and, therefore, my sciatic nerve). So burpees are on hold until I can talk to Rob Jones.
Today I'll call his office to see how soon they can get me in. The idea of sitting at my desk all day makes me wince. Although right now, standing isn't a lot better. It's pretty much all discomfort all the time. How can my leg be numb and hurt at the same time? It makes no sense.
As I crawled into bed last night, I complained tomckitterick that, for a change, I would really love the opportunity to hate my body for the normal reasons: I'm fat or I have too many freckles or my knees are ugly or my breasts are too small or my hair is unmanageable or my nose is too big or fucking something that involves just simple, shallow vanity. Can I please just hate my body because of something petty? Because I'm bored with hating my body for these consistent betrayals that attack and undermine my efforts toward health and fitness.
I am not your enemy, body of mine. Stop behaving as though I am. I bust my ass (and my bank account) to keep you healthy, I limit all sorts of common social interactions, I give and I give and what do you do? You pull this shit that slows me down--often when I'm getting in a good groove. What is the deal, body? If you were a boyfriend, I would kick your ass to the curb. Hell, if you were a family member who treated me like this, I'd write you out of my life with never a backward glance. But I'm stuck with you, damn it, and right now I gotta say I'm super unhappy in our relationship.
By yesterday afternoon, my left hip was on fire, and my foot was starting to go numb. By the time I got home, the pain was all the way down to my calf, and pins-and-needles feeling had made it up to my knee. I had
mckitterick do a similar manipulation of the tissues that Rob Jones, our P.T., did earlier this year while I stretched out the muscle. Ten minutes after that, it hurt worse! Yay! I dealt with it as you'd expect: Shot back a glass of rum, poured a second, and limped up the stairs, whining all the way. Unfortunately, I think I'm sensitive to something in the rum, because within ten minutes I swelled up like whoa--something that probably didn't help the inflamed muscles in my hips. Oh, I took five ibuprofen, too, which as far as I could tell, didn't do bupkis.
What triggered this shockingly fast development, I'm not sure. I've been sitting a lot at my desk with very few breaks (it's my busy season after all). I'm worried that the burpee project might have exacerbated something, too. I know that when I went through this before, any squat below about 120 degrees triggered a flare-up. Which is why I quit doing squats (sadness) and relied on lunges. There's a squat-ish movement, obviously, in the burpees, and I didn't even think about it irritating that piriformis muscle (and, therefore, my sciatic nerve). So burpees are on hold until I can talk to Rob Jones.
Today I'll call his office to see how soon they can get me in. The idea of sitting at my desk all day makes me wince. Although right now, standing isn't a lot better. It's pretty much all discomfort all the time. How can my leg be numb and hurt at the same time? It makes no sense.
As I crawled into bed last night, I complained to
mckitterick that, for a change, I would really love the opportunity to hate my body for the normal reasons: I'm fat or I have too many freckles or my knees are ugly or my breasts are too small or my hair is unmanageable or my nose is too big or fucking something that involves just simple, shallow vanity. Can I please just hate my body because of something petty? Because I'm bored with hating my body for these consistent betrayals that attack and undermine my efforts toward health and fitness. I am not your enemy, body of mine. Stop behaving as though I am. I bust my ass (and my bank account) to keep you healthy, I limit all sorts of common social interactions, I give and I give and what do you do? You pull this shit that slows me down--often when I'm getting in a good groove. What is the deal, body? If you were a boyfriend, I would kick your ass to the curb. Hell, if you were a family member who treated me like this, I'd write you out of my life with never a backward glance. But I'm stuck with you, damn it, and right now I gotta say I'm super unhappy in our relationship.