Vault of Torture

I really really really wanted to call this blog "Ovary Crunchers" but thought "hmm, is that really appropriate?" So I made it the first line of my blog instead :D. Read on, you'll get to it...

I had a, we'll call it "back episode", on Tuesday. And to start off, NO, it was not related to my running a mile on Saturday. How do I know? 1)Unless running can cause joint inflammation in one's left hand as well as the back, this was totally related to the fantastic action of my white blood cells attacking my connective tissue (ie my disease) 2) I have been running for the past month, for comparable durations to what I did in the mile, and never experienced any issues- these running episodes were in addition to 3-4 workouts per week (stationary bike, elliptical, aquajog/swim) that I have been logging, so I really don't think the running caused this. However, I will of course, continue to pay meticulous attention to every minute sign that my body throws when I start running again. Believe me, this gal does not want to be on the active lifestyle sidelines.

That being said- I woke up on Tuesday morning unable to bend my fingers on my left hand (an occasional occurrence for me, so that didn't worry me). However, my inability to stand without seeing stars and triggering my gag reflex from the pain did worry me. I crawled to the medicine cabinet (praise the Lord I keep the potent stuff in a lower drawer), downed a Vicadin (hate that stuff) and a muscle relaxer and proceeded to sob myself into a drug induced stupor. (Big thanks to the roomie who worked from home in case I needed something- thankfully no bonding moments with a bedpan were required of her). By the afternoon, I could hobble fairly well and I continued to improve into the evening.

Of course, once I could speak without drug-induced slurring, I called my awesome chiropractor/PT inflictor to schedule a torture, er, PT session the next day.

On Wednesday, I was THANKFULLY able to move around pretty well, some limping and I was doing the whole stand-up-like-an-old-lady routine (no offense meant to the elderly out there). I headed to the Vault of Torture, or more commonly known as my chiropractor/PT inflictor. Where I proceeded to regress to my pre-run-by-two-months-PT-treatments of...you got it, OVARY CRUNCHERS.

What are ovary crunchers? The most hated of all hated PT therapies (Dr.A, if you are reading this, I am very thankful for all your help. Really.). My chiro has me lay on my side on the torture table and she proceeds to grip my side with both hands as hard as humanly possible and dig her fingers into my belly, attempting push my ovaries through my lower vertebrae in the process. Whilst my ovaries are being crushed, I then have to swing my leg up, and then as back as far as I can go without passing out, and then down. This HURTS. Tears are shed. Why must I do ovary crunchers? Well, apparently, when my body experiences the Big Bad Inflammation, it goes into self-defense mode (i.e. every muscle in my body attempts to curl up, fetal position). One of the most trouble-causing culprits is the psoas muscle (red arrow is pointing to it below).

It's a big tough muscle and mine is SUPER tight (it's like its trying to get away from the inflammation...smart muscle). So ovary crunchers are pretty much the only way to get at the muscle (since it's buried behind things...like my organs) to stretch it and get it to behave. Along with some other contortionist-like stretches that are part of my now vast PT stretch repertoire.

So there you have it. Right now, I feel like I did about oh, 2 months ago. Not quite ready to walk a speedy walk, but not far off. I am super estastic to see how quickly my body has bounced back this time and I pray that this will continue. And that this back inflammation does not become part of my standard tool bucket of disease symptoms. Thanks for all your prayers!