Monday, June 23, 2008


I recently started going to a physical therapist because I tweaked my neck pretty bad a few weeks ago and Lortab did absolutely nothing for me. I was kind of disappointed - I didn't get high or anything, and at the very least I was hoping to have an excuse to be loud, obnoxious and bossy. Oh wait. I already am. How about that.

So when the muscle relaxers and Lortab didn't help and I was still having to turn my entire upper torso, a la Batman, just to look to the side, I started seeing Dr. John. I've seen him three times now and I kind of love him and hate him at the same time.

I only hate him for the same reason I hate all doctors/dentists/gynos/waxers: they ask questions that make me feel like I'm supposed to know the right answer, but I don't think I do. Like when he's rubbing my neck so hard that my whole body is moving and he asks, "How does that feel?"

Um...hurts? But... good? Hurts so good? How do I explain that the knots in my neck are so tight that my eardrums are throbbing when he rubs it, but it doesn't necessarily hurt per say.

"How are you feeling today?"

Uh...good, I think? My neck was sore this morning?'s getting better? Right? Is that the right answer?

I hate him because the way he pulls on my head and stretches my neck back and forth gives me vertigo and static hair, and smears my eye makeup; so I stagger out of there like I'm doing the walk of shame at seven in the morning.

I also hate him because his seventeen-year-old male assistant squirted the ultrasound gel all over my back and up into my hair. Personally, I don't buy into the whole ultrasound on my neck thing. I don't think that machine is really doing anything.

But I love him because getting my neck rubbed for twenty minutes is oh so wonderful, even if it makes my eardrums throb. And I like to mess with his stuff when he's out of the room - like the controls for the tabs he sticks on me that send pulses to my neck and shoulder muscles. I like to turn up the strength so that my arm is bouncing all over the place. It just cracks me up. They probably wonder why I'm laughing so much when they leave me in there alone.

Then again, if they knew me at all, they probably wouldn't wonder at all.


Scratch Subtle said...

I think the fact that he goes by "Dr. John" would be enough for me to hate him. Anyone who goes by a title and their first name doesn't deserve a straight answer.
Does he have a night gig where he gives relationship advice on the radio?

LecNessMonster said...

That machine is called an e-stim unit.

Next session when Dr. John turns on the vibes, you should emit a low and labored groan/scream, simultaneously bursting the foam capsules you've been holding in your mouth. (Available at any costume retailer!)

At least thats what I'd do. You know, just for fun.

Andi Mae said...

You're a mess. I love you.