Catsidhe

I went to a physiotherapist last week. She said that I had an impressively stiff back along its entire length, and that my lumbar curve was (is) non-existent, causing stress on the thoracic and cervical regions, explaining both my back pain and headaches over the last few years. She felt around in my back muscles with her thumb up to the second knuckle for a while while I used a large amount of bio-feedback to avoid spasming at the pain and undoing her work. I booked an appointment for last night, 18:15.

I left work at 17:30 for the 14km drive to my appointment in Elsternwick.

The physio's secretary called at 18:30, asking if I had forgotten the appointment. "No," I forced through gritted teeth, 'I haven't forgotten," and looked at the traffic around me in South Melbourne. I made a new appointment for 18:45 on Friday.

I arrived home at 18:45, unpleased.

I am still unpleased. Mim asks me, often, why I don't leave work earlier. This is why: it makes too little a difference to my arrival time at home to be worth it. Why should I spend another hour in traffic, for the benefit of arriving home ten minutes after the girls go to bed, rather than half an hour after, but only half an hour on the road?

In the meantime, though, I am still in pain, which never goes away. And now I have to wait another three days before I can get more help for it. Fuck.

Forgive tyops: explanation follows.

Illness has developed. Weakness in muscles extreme, especially in hands. Can't make fists, or hold anything in hands. Strength in arms not badly affected, but utility severely limited when I can't use fingers properly. Basically two lumps of meat on the end of my arms. Quadriceps hurt when strength req'd of them, but still kinda work. Other muscles seem ok most of the time.

Saw doctor yesterday. She said that my symptoms were "interesting". This is not something you want your doctor to say about you. I had various body fluids extracted and an ECG taken, but have not heard back yet.

Life without hands sucks. I am typing this two-fingered, effectively. I can't hold a pen. I can't hold the kettle to pour a cuppa properly. I even have to use both hands to pick up a carton of milk.

It feels like Lactic acid overdose. Forearm muscles feel like they have been completely exhausted and not recovered, and are simply not going to play any more. Like when you exercise far far too much, especially without warming up, before or after.


Eris is mighty and mysterious, the channels through which She comminicates life's lessons. I wish the Bitch would just send an SMS or something, though. Just sayin'.