…I got myself a massage and had an appointment with my chiropractor regarding my stupid knee. I see my massage therapist about once a month with some lapses here and there, and I see my chiropractor less regularly but more often when my stupid knee is acting up. I have a flappy meniscus. Torn, they say, but mine has been described as a flap, hence, flappy. The discomfort comes and goes and has done so on and off for years now. A mild annoyance at first, a couple of years ago it flared up so bad that I was kind of gimpy for a time, but then it just disappears, gets tucked back in, I guess, into its little cave and stops bothering me for awhile. I’ve been pretty good most of the time for a number of months now, with minor flare-ups, but yesterday’s flare up was a little more intense, so I go to the chiropractor and her assistant hooks my knee up to some electrodes and buzzes me while she massages my knee with an ultrasound tool. I don’t know if any of this works; I only know that after a few rounds of this kind of treatment, my stupid knee has stopped bothering me, at least for a time. My chiropractor taped me up, asked me to come back in a couple of weeks, and sent me on my way. I like her a lot, and I told her last time I was in that I thought just merely seeing her was part of the treatment. I don’t think I was flirting. My massage today was heavenly, as usual, and similarly, I don’t know if it does anything for my overall physical health, but clearly it seems to have some therapeutic value. It might be more emotional than anything else. It took me a long time to warm up to massage therapy. Maybe only in the last decade or so, definitely not until I was late in my 40s, did I begin to partake regularly in this most intimate of physical therapies.
It’s the 31st day of January. I made it through the entire first month of the year writing a blog entry every day. I’m probably going to take some time off, but maybe I won’t. But if I end up coming back tomorrow or the next day or next week, I think I will choose a different approach–no more counting. I’ll write real titles so readers might have some idea what to expect. We’ll see. Only time will tell. You know.
Tonight, I’m playing the drums in the cover band, a cruel and unusual four sets, from 9 PM to 1 AM. I’m usually a wreck after that gig–and either the work on my body today will make me more of a wreck in the end–or maybe its therapeutic effects will help me soldier through more energetically. I hoping for the latter, but I have some doubts. I need to take a nap before I head out. Hey, if you’ve been reading these things, I sincerely thank you. Happy February Eve to you and yours!
michael jarmer 