confronting it

I started physiotherapy for my sore knee a week ago, and found it underwhelming.  The physiotherapist suggested some modifications for the things I do at the gym to make it less likely to hurt my knee further.  And she suggested running a roller over my quad and calf muscles.  And then she squirted gel all over me and did some ultrasound therapy.  None of this stuff seems to have made much of a difference.

Yesterday I went a chiropractor at N's urging.  I did this in the middle of the day, sneaking out of my office and back in.  (Quiet day.  I got away with it.)  The chiropractor seemed far more concerned than the physiotherapist about what is happening in my knee but also seemed more confident in his ability to do something about it.  He had me don a pair of sexy shorts so he could check out my legs while I wandered up and down the hallway of his clinic.  He also had me show him some stretches and postures while he assessed the way I carried myself and moved.  He told me that I am very flexible, but that my over-flexibility was creating some instability; this was an interesting thought.

He did some very bizarre manipulations of my calf, thigh, and hip.  (I was waiting for a kiss on my kneecap but he did not offer one.  Although he sat on the bed with me while he twisted me - which seemed weird at first - I think his treatment was legit.)  He assured me that I do not have a joint problem, which was good news, and suggested that soft tissue manipulation along with an exercise program designed to stabilize my core should resolve the problem.  I felt encouraged by all of this.  But the weird things he did to my thigh and calf were kind of painful.

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S is shopping for a new car.  We've gone all over a million options and now he has landed on the Tesla where he seems determined to stay.  Whatever.  Cars don't matter to me.  But he is very excited about it.

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I have made a plan to see A on Saturday and I hope to talk to him then about what the fuck is actually going on with him.  He is making me tired.  It's funny how you're not allowed to be mad at people while they are grieving, even if they are being stupid and a pain in the ass.



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what the downside could be

In the end I did not go out last night, which was what I preferred.  It's mysterious how desire changes so quickly.  (It could still change back, of course.)

I saw A in the morning instead, at the piercing studio - which I want to describe as strange but he did tell me he would be there.  We made our appointments independently and so it was not strange, not really.  What was strange is that A is the last person one would normally find in a place like that, with his fresh six-week haircut and humming church hymns as he walks.  But the bereaved want tattoos too, don't they?  Even the conservative, church-going kind of bereaved.

Later in the day I complained to him, via text, that I had no wine.  He delivered some to my door, like dial-a-bottle without a bill to pay.  He is a very lovely person.  I don't really know what to do with that.

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