No Spa for Leah

One of my favorite things to do is get deep tissue massages. Since I have horrendous computer posture, it's been a saving grace to keep me feeling both 15 on the inside and outside. I hadn't gotten a massage since the "spa-incident" of last october where I suddenly decided it would be a great idea to have acid poured on my skin in a controlled manner by a spa technician. For a more detailed explanation of that fabulous idea, refer back to posts from last october and november.

So I was kind of spa-shy for a few months, plus christmas was busy and all that. I decided, hey, it's january and cold and nasty, let's have a nice little treat of a massage. I called my place up, made an appointment and eagerly awaited it. Wednesday night I went, it was fabulous. I don't usually have back problems, I tend to keep all my tension/anger/rage-against-the-machine in my neck and shoulders, so I noticed that when the massage person worked on my lower back it felt like she was working something out - it was a tiny bit tender.

No big deal right? I felt great that night, felt great again the next morning. That is, until I was getting dressed and something happened. Something bad. I don't know if any of you watch Spongebob Squarepants (yeah, so I like spongebob, got a problem with that?), but there's this one episode where his little starfish friend Patrick jumps in the water after eating and it shows the muscle in each butt cheek stick out and spin into a knot. Absolutely hi-lar-i-ous. Or maybe because I was drinking and watching...but either way, that is the exact feeling I felt happen in my lower back muscle. It felt weird. I distinctly remember thinking to myself, hey, that doesn't feel right. Within minutes, my lower back had entirely seized up, I couldn't bend, I could barely walk, I couldn't sit, I was trapped in a standing position for the rest of my life. I stood there, thinking it was a bad time to discover just how much stuff I stored on the floor, because I was never going to get to any of it ever again. I hobbled to my computer and stood in front of it, typing an email to work that I was going to be late.

Now, it's not that I don't know pain. I've had migraines for most of my life, and learned the tricks of compartmentalizing pain so that you can still function. But this was different, I was walking around like an 80-year-old with arthritis. It's been a few days, and I can feel it working itself out, but man oh man, lower back spasms are NO JOKE.

Then to put insult on top of injury, I decide (despite being the person that yells at others for doing this) to accept prescription ibuprofen pills from someone else to help me out with this. Don't worry, I've learned my lesson. On top of all this, the hobbling and limping and doing plie's just to pick up cat toys, I got an adverse reaction to the pills. Last night, all over itchy red dematitis. Itchy enough to make you want to go mad, like mad-hatter-mad, like the kind where you know how bad it is to scratch but you can't help yourself and you do and then it gets ever more red and inflamed and itchy, and you start to think, have I entered some kind of 2nd ring of hell, am I actually dead at this point and paying for all my sins? I'm so sorry for being an angry driver, I'll stop, I'll stop, I PROMISE!!!!!

I still have left-over bumps and red marks today. It was even bad enough where I did consider the emergency room because I could feel that the tissue inside my mouth was swollen and itchy, and then my esophagus as well. So naturally I had visions of anaphylactic shock and murder-death-kill going through my brain.

All because I wanted a massage!!!!

On a nice note, I got catered to all day today thanks to my inability to actually stand up straight. Of course, everyone at work who had to live through my chemically peeled face last fall is asking me if I'll ever go back to that salon. Honestly, I don't see why not, it's not their fault I seem to be excessively vigorous when getting dressed and undressed. (See another previous post on how rough I am on myself when getting undressed, I really ought to look into all this and see what it really means.)

Moral of the story? It's okay to get dressed and undressed in a calm and reasonable manner. And probably do some stretches before-hand to get ready.


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