Just Try To Relax
The other day my chronic shoulder pain was worse than usual, so I finally called a local health centre to find out what to do about it. I’ve already run the gamut—physio, massage, shock wave, barbotage, cortisone shots, and I’ve had more ultrasounds than you can imagine, as the calcium deposits in my tendons grow, shrink, turn into kidney stones, and other demonic attacks on my body. I explained my issue to the receptionist, who recommended that I see their consulting chiropractor on Friday morning at 8:30 AM…who the hell does medical appointments that early in the morning?! I’m RETIRED for crying out loud! But I bit the bullet because I really needed to do something about the pain. On Friday morning, I got to the clinic and sat there for a while watching a woman about my age doing some kind of weird exercises with a younger man that I assumed was the chiropractor and I had two thoughts: a) I was NOT doing any kind of exercise that early in the morning even though I WAS wearing yoga pants, but that’s just for show, obviously and b) if the chiropractor suggested chiropractic-ing me, that was going to be a hard pass for a variety of reasons which are too lengthy to go into here. But eventually it was my turn, and the doctor was very nice and not at all pushy about wanting to crack my spine. He actually suggested a course of accupuncture and I agreed. He told me to lay down on the table with my face in a convenient face-shaped hole, then he started putting the needles into my shoulder. It was virtually painless and I couldn’t feel them going in at all. “Everything good?” he asked. I agreed that I was just fine, and then he said, “OK, dear, lie there, close your eyes and just relax.”
RELAX? Did he know who he was talking to? Because this was the order of events that played out in my mind IMMEDIATELY after he walked out of the room:
1) How many needles did he put in? I couldn’t feel them all—was it five? Ten? How does he know when he takes them out that he hasn’t missed one, and when I put my hoodie back on, I’ll get stabbed?!’
2) There has to be some kind of system. Does he have an excel spreadsheet to write down how many needles he puts in so he knows how many to take out? And if he doesn’t have an excel spreadsheet, that would be a good idea. Maybe I should suggest that to him. But then, you’d still need someone else to VERIFY the number of needles because you could very easily miscount.
3) My arm is getting stiff. Is it safe to move it? If I move it, will one of the indeterminate amount of needles shift and stab me?
4) How long do I have to lie here? He didn’t say anything about a time limit. Wait—is he TREATING SOMEONE ELSE RIGHT NOW? I can hear him through the wall—did he forget about me? How long do I wait before I get up and look for him? CAN I get up? What about the needles? What if I got up then tripped and landed on my arm, jamming the needles deeper into my skin?
4) My face hurts. This face hole is stupid and not very face-shaped at all. I might as well close my eyes—all I can see is the carpet anyway…nope—if I close my eyes, all I see is needles.
5) What time is it? Is he ever coming back? I’m going to start counting and when I reach 10 minutes, I’m getting up, finding my phone and calling for help, needles or no needles.
Luckily for everyone, when I reached 4 minutes and 27 seconds, he suddenly opened the door. “How are you feeling now?” he asked, taking out the needles.
“Just fine,” I said, putting my hoodie back on VERY carefully.
And now I have to do this twice a week until the pain starts to go away. Wish me luck.
Mousetrap update: Still no sign of it. We upgraded to a fancy new live trap that we borrowed from my aunt and we caught a big one this morning, but he refused to talk. And now other things are going missing, including my second-favourite handbag, which has apparently vanished from the coatrack by the door, never to be found, as well as an LV makeup bag. So if you see a mouse sporting a fake-but-very-realistic-looking Louis Vuitton mini-Speedy, tell him I’m looking for him–and I’m bringing an indeterminate amount of needles.
