Too thin

I have pain in the ass syndrome. At least that is what I like to call it. "Piriformis syndrome" is the medical term for it.

The piriformis is a muscle in the gluteal, or arse. The piriformis runs diagonally from the lowerlumbar to the hip. Mine has been in permanent seizure for over a month, and I finally decided to hassle setting up a doctor's appointment.

The same thing happened a year or two ago, and two manipulations from the doc and I was right as rain.

After three phone calls and two days the nurse finally called me back and said, "He can see you at 11:15 Monday." She is a large, grumpy woman, and her tone brooks no finangling the day or time.

I paused, took a breath, and (tried to) said brightly, "Ok, see you at 11:15"

This created a bit of a problem, since I am already obligated to make sure the bucks are doing ok in Boss' absense, esp since there has been trouble and I had the weekend off.

I called P and we agreed I would just go straight to the bucks with R this am so I could finish early. Things were much improved-Will's nose had drained and was scabbing over, Grey's eye was clearing, and Leif was up and about. The new buck, Chris, tried to rub and then horn R when R wouldn't give him his scratches. Chris finally came up to me and delighted in rubbing his itching face all over my legs while I dug my fingers deep into his mane and back giving him his scratches.

The day finished early, I headed off to my appointment. I was driving down the road and saw an oncoming car pass over what I thought was a dead bird on the road, which began flopping and fluttering, obviously still alive but injured.

I stopped the car and backed up and reached out the door with both hands and scooped the poor creature up and placed it on my work clothes in the passenger seat. I cupped my hand over it to keep it from crashing around in the car.

I learned that trick after picking up a dazed robin once with the dog in the car, and a couple of miles down the road, the robin came to and started bashing around the car with the dog flipping out and me trying to find a safe place to pull over. I opened the door and the bird flew out, and I always wondered what it thought to find itself a few miles from home? Hehe.

Anyhow, this bird today, which appeared to be a catbird, stayed under my hand while I gave it Reiki and drove with the other hand. I have a vibration in the car, and the poor bird was jiggling away under my hand. It's eyes were half closed, and it's head tipped back against my hand. I thought it had died by the time I pulled into the docs.

I parked the car and moved my hand to check the bird, and it flew to the floor of the passenger side and climbed the rug and clung just under the dashboard. Not want to frighten it further, I left it there while I went in for my appointment.

I expected to have someone come in and ask who had a bird flying around in the car, but no one did.

Finally, it was my turn to see the doc.

My doc is an interesting person. He is not a large man, about my height and very slightly built. He is probably in his forties. He cuts his hair very short to allow for the fact he doesn't have much, and looks like a newly hatched baby bird in appearance, with short fine hair sticking up and a bird-like appearance. He is a bright wit and we have knocked heads on several occasions in good humour. I find myself slightly attracted to him.

I had left my work boots encased in a plastic shopping bag in the waiting room, because,although I remembered a change of clothes, I had forgotton shoes, and mine were encased in buck poop. I was half way through putting a clean pair of socks on when he entered, and he got right to business, expecting me to put the sock on and describe my pain at the same time. LOL.

Then the process began:

First I stand and then he pokes and prods me, then I stand back-to and he pokes some more (checking spinal alignment, I presume). He plucks my dangling car keys out of my back pocket and swings them around and tosses them into the chair on my magazine, and they stay.

"Nice throw," I say

"Thanks," he returns.

The poking and prodding progresses to getting on the table, where he starts pushing and pulling and twisting my legs around, which is really hitting the spot. He is good.

After a few minutes of this, I have entered into a state of Nirvana. LOL. Then he is undoing my belt. The belt is enormous-might be a 38" belt that I have had to poke holes into to fit. I am wearing it because I chose to wear my largest pair of light jeans, knowing what a manipulation entails. He pulls the belt through the loops in one big yank and tosses that aside.

"it's getting in the way," he says.

The he opens my jeans up a little so he can reach the hips and keeps pulling and twisting.

"Flip over"

I roll onto my stomach and he tears a hole in the paper, exposing those handy openings you put your face over, so you don't suffocate while being worked on.

My sunglasses are perched on top of my head. He plucks those and they join the keys on the chair.

Then he twists me around some more, and has me lay on my side. Oh boy, the highlight. I can never remember exactly what he does, but it involves being twisted into a pretzel while he tells me things like, "push your thigh up and out towards the wall" while he is applying opposing pressure to three parts of my body at once.

He gets very short if I don't do exactly what he tells me.

"NO! Towards the wall!"

Finally our full body embrace ends and I stand to leave.

"You are too skinny," he says.

I protest.

He (once again) goes back through my chart (we have been through this before) and gloatinglypoints out that several years ago, before the end of my last relationship, I was 150. No matter I have been 130 for several years before and after.

"Well, he was a good cook!" I offer in my own defense.

Doc rolls his eyes at me.

I think back on it, and I bet I outweigh the little guy. Maybe he just likes chubby women.

Still, I have a lingering pall that the sexy doc who has just practically ravished me on his table is telling me I am too thin. I try to brandish a bicep at him as he leaves and I follow.

"WHERE ARE YOUR SHOES?!?!" he enquires as I walk away.

I explain my buck feces encrusted boots are waiting in a sack in the waiting room, and he walks away nodding and shaking his head.

I schedule another appointment and pad out to collect my boots and check on the bird. The bird is still in the same place, so my decsion was to return to where I found it and then check it to see if it can fly. I drive several miles back to where I found the bird, and find a likely place to pull over safely while I check the bird out.

The bird has now crawled up behind the dashboard, and the onlything visible is the tip of it's tail feathers. I wonder for a minute if I am going to have to have someone tear the car apart to get it out, and decided to just reach up and grab what I can.

A tug, three tail feathers, and a cheep, and the bird is free flying around in the car. I opened the side door and popped the back, and the bird flew out the car and over a field towards some trees, a bit wobbly perhaps, but on the wing andheaded home.

The three tail feathers lie on the passenger side floor.