The Back of my Back

I went to the doctor today to talk about my back. I called sports medicine rather than the regular doctor, thinking the sports folks would "get it." My doctor took x-rays, asked me to talk about the pain, identified the sore places and then nodded a few times. He sat down in his rolly chair and asked me, "Is there any way you can NOT play rugby anymore?"

I was pretty stunned. I felt like he had asked me to perhaps take a day off from breathing or maybe just stop digesting my food for a few hours. I said, "No! Absolutely not!" Plan B is to get some rehab on my back, because the doctor feels that the pain is muscular. I feel that way, too. I've never had rehab before and am not sure what it entails. My appointment is for May 19 at 730 in the morning, so I'll find out pretty soon.

I have decided to give it two chances and if I don't like it, I'm going to either go to the chiropractor or just start taking yoga again. Either way, I'm still playing rugby.

Dr. Dan

Want to see a hilarious picture of me listening to Dan Marino's speech at commencement? Because there is one for you to look at and it's right here. Note how excited Patsy and I are to be graduating. Note also the poop brown hoods signifying that we are masters of the Fine Arts. Thank heaven we are not MBA students, because then our hoods would be "drab."

Procrastinating Already?

I think I did pretty well up until today in terms of being productively self employed. I secured a new feature story, I interviewed a zillion people, I worked on a draft. Today was my first long, long day of just writing. So what did I do? I bought my sister a graduation present, I worked on the shower drain with a piece of wire and a knitting needle, I ate some salmon, and I putzed around on the internet.

I didn't start drafting at all. I almost took a nap. I don't understand what's wrong with me. The story I'm supposed to be working on is fascinating to me--profiles of two women I find fascinating. But I just couldn't get started. I think maybe my body thinks I'm on some sort of vacation. Maybe I'll go mow the grass, even though Corey likes doing that. All the neighbors are doing it...

The Front of my Back

We played in a tournament this weekend, where our team dressed as pirates and took second place. Pretty exciting all around, YAR! Only after our game against Chesapeake, my back seized up. I tried stretching and doing some sun salutations, but that just made me cry involuntarily. So I crawled over to the trainer and lay on my back whimpering. He started massaging my stomach. I thought this was very strange.

He talked to his colleague and said my L1 was spasming. I don't know what that means, but I said, "Why are you pressing on my stomach? Why does it hurt when you do that? How did you know it would hurt there?" The trainer just kept working out the spasm and told me he was rubbing my belly because it's the front of my back. I never thought of it that way before! Soon enough, he went to work on the actual back of my back, but I just couldn't get over this new way to envision my stomach. The front of my back! It blew my mind.

While I was lying there, our friend Ayo appeared. Too late to see the match, but just in time to help me out, he bought me a pork sandwich so I'd be sure to have delicious food after I could move again. It was like a moment of heaven--the moment the pain in my back eased up, I sat up and had a warm plate of pork barbecue. I like to think the delicious protein went straight to my sore L1, which is really the back of my stomach.

Career Aspirations

I had lunch in the Strip with my friend and teammate Tricia today. We were walking around buying pirate gear for our rugby trip theme this weekend. On the way back to my car, I passed the chief fish guy who owns the fish store. "Hey, dude!" I said to him.

"Katy! I'm so glad I saw you. I need some work done this afternoon. Do you have a half hour?"

I told him no, that I was on my way somewhere. That somewhere happened to be back home to watch The Wire with my friend Paul, but plans are plans. Anyway, he begged me to come to the office and take a look at the project and reconsider, as he was really in a bind. I followed him in and he emerged holding a seamonster costume. A seamonster costume. I just needed to type it again.

He said, "I need you to put this on and walk around for a half hour. I'll give you $25."

I just stared at the green thing, with fins for hands and long scraggly bits of moss (barnacles?) and wanted to punch him in the face. I was so insulted. Possibly more insulted than I've ever been in my life. In the background, a little old lady screamed at the top of her lungs, seeking truffle butter while someone else haggled over the price of cod. And he kept waving the wooly costume at me like a prize. I said, "Sorry. I have to go. I have plans." And I left.

When I told Corey, he said, "But isn't that your lifelong dream? How could you tell him no?" Is this what I have to look forward to? Will my freelance career go sour and I'll have to wear animal costumes to hand out discount flyers for a fish store?