toddlerspit

Dr. Magic Hands was most excellent this morning.  I haven’t seen her since before Nolie was born.  With both pregnancies, my back felt like it was being crushed by a two-ton weight (that weight being my giant belly and ass, no doubt).  I was in pretty much constant pain or discomfort by the third trimester with both pregnancies.  The doula we hired for the first pregnancy recommended Dr. Magic Hands, an osteopath, and I was an instant convert.

First off, I don’t know what osteopathy is.  I know Dr. Magic is a “D.O.” and not an “M.D.,” but what do I care?  All I know is I go in to her office (a converted church) where tibetan chanting is on the stereo, she slips her hands under my body (the butt, the spine, the neck, wherever), holds them there for about 20 minutes, moves them around  little, and when I sit up I can all of a sudden move my shoulders back, or the pain in the lower back is gone, or that little throbbing in my left temple disappears. 

It’s magic. Or her hands are the hands of god.  Or I just believe in her, and allow myself to release.  I don’t know.

I realize now it doesn’t matter how she does it, or if it’s her or me “doing” it.  I used to ask her, “What are you doing to me?  How come I feel so much better?”  She just shrugs, her crazy, ratty ponytail bobbing at the side of her head, and hands me a nonsense brochure titled something like, “This Is Osteopathy.”

So I don’t ask anymore.  I just stand in awe and gratitude.

Today she did the hands under the back thing, and I felt my lungs open up and my right leg erupted in this most delightful tingling.  After about 20 minutes, she came up to the neck, put her hands right on my sore spot and said, “Hmm.  We’re about 70% there.  I’m going to have to do a slight articulation.”

And the she spun my head around on my neck, I saw some stars, and all of a sudden was able to hear out of my left ear (I hadn’t realized it had been clogged up).  “That’s going to be sore for a few days,” she said.  “Come see me next week.”

Reading over this, I realize I sound like a nutjob.  If the shoe fits, and all.  I only know what I know, and this chick is the cat’s meow.

Meow.

So, I’m grumpy about a few things today.  This was the third morning in a row I’ve woken up with a nasty crick in my neck, which I think is in communication with a knot in my mid-back, both of which are causing me much angst.  It’s off to the miracle-working shaman D.O. tomorrow morning for some help.

I made it to a new gynecologist today, and again got no answers about whatever it is that continues to plague my uterus.  Apparently, my body will just heal itself.  Ugh.

And, the President of the U. had a “town hall” today (which should tell you something).  We learned both that our school is in better shape than a lot of universities and that, the state legislature will probably get more bad news in June, which will mean loads of furloughs in the fall.  I didn’t spin out or anything, but my little leprechuan Fear came and sat on my knee for a few minutes.  That little fucker.

So, I’m going home.  And here is what I’m going to give my energy to for the rest of the day:

Kids.  I think Peter Pan is on the docket for this evening.

Juggling.  It’s coming along, it’s coming along.  I am still not a coordinated person.  I was hoping to grow into coordination at some point, but perhaps at 34, I should stop waiting and just embrace my monkey arms and spaghetti legs.  It makes me laugh my ass off every time I try it, so that’s worth something.

The good news.  There’s been plenty of bad news this past year, but also the good news:  my new, beautiful nephew, Holden Jace, being born; my brother getting engaged; my dad’s supposedly deadly cancer being in remission.  And lots more.  Lots to celebrate, and meditate on.

Stretching.  I’ve been doing yoga everyday as it’s the only thing that relieves the neck pain.  So, again.

See you tomorrow, yo.