(Photo from 'urbanmkr' via Flickr)
After battling through some lower back and hip pain over the summer as a result of running, I finally gave in and made a visit to my doctor to see what the deal was.
He informed me that I had something called SI Joint Dysfunction, and referred me to a physical therapist.
I quickly made an appointment and a few days later, found myself in the doctor’s office once again.
Never having been to a physical therapist, or even knowing what one was for that matter, I showed up in my usual business casual ensemble, which today conveniently included giant heels.
I was escorted into an exam room and waited for the physical therapist to see me. Having no idea what I was in for, I found myself thinking nervously of what was about to happen. And still in pain from the episode that brought me to the doctor in the first place, I paced around the room, desperately trying to find some relief.
A few minutes later I heard a knock at the door. Awkwardly trying to get back to my chair before the door opened, I darted across the room as quickly as I could. Making it safely, yet painfully back to my seat, I watched as the door slowly opened.
Damn it. He was cute.
He began asking me question after question, which as always, I gave entirely too much information for.
A few minutes into the questioning, he looked at what I was wearing and asked in the nicest way possible if this was what I normally wore every day—specifically, my giant heels. Probably not the best choice for a back ache, but I have never been one to compromise style for pain.
He brought me back a pair of men’s shorts to wear, as the pants I was wearing were, I have to admit, somewhat constricting. He left the room so I could change and as I got into the terribly unattractive shorts he had so kindly provided me with, I remembered something. I had not shaved my legs that morning.
I know what you’re thinking. Justine, you have blonde hair—it couldn’t be that bad. But let me tell you, it was. It wasn’t that I had just missed a day or two…oh no…it was more like a week or two. Okay, maybe not that long, but you get my drift.
Before I could compose a plan, I heard a knock at the door.
Uh oh. Here goes nothing.
He asked me to lay flat on the table and informed me that he was going to be doing some ‘poking and prodding’ to make sure that he had my diagnosis exactly right. I nodded my head and prayed none of them would involve touching my unshaven legs.
He went for my feet first, which was another problem on its own. I’m not saying my feet always smell, but let’s be honest—sometimes when you wear dress shoes all day without socks it can happen.
I clenched my teeth and prayed to God he wouldn’t notice either.
After navigating his way through the forest that was my hairy legs, he paused to ask a few more questions. The first two were easy, but the third one was a little different.
“Do you know what a Kegel is?” he asked.
“It’s when you pee, hold your pee and then pee again, right?” I confidently responded.
“Exactly,” he replied.
He placed his first two fingers on the inside of my right hip bone and instructed me to do a Kegel.
Confused at how I was going to accomplish this without peeing my pants, I asked for guidance. After informing me that it was possible to do a Kegel without urinating, my journey into Kegel town began.
I laid on the table and tried to find the muscle he was speaking of. But the more I thought about it, the funnier the whole situation became. There I was, lying on a table with a guy I barely knew holding my hip bone, trying to figure out how to move what I considered to be my vagina muscle.
Could this be any more awkward?
When I’m involved, apparently it can. Ten minutes had passed, and after a few failed attempts I knew the pressure was on. It wasn’t like I could just pretend I had done one successfully—trust me I tried—that was the whole point of his hand placement.
So, being the mature adult that I am, I began to giggle uncontrollably. He of course remained professional, but couldn’t help acknowledging my struggle with a subtle smile.
When I was through with my childish outburst, I knew it was time to buckle down and get serious. I could do this. It was all about focus.
A handful of attempts and roughly five minutes later, success was mine. I had found it!
The remainder of the appointment consisted of learning exercises to practice between then and my next appointment—all of which included Kegels, of course.
Now that I have a few sets under my belt (no pun intended), I am pretty good at this Kegeling thing—and believe it or not, it has helped my back pain significantly.
And apparently they offer some other bonuses, too…
