A couple of weeks ago I finally took the plunge and made an appointment to get some therapy for my lower back which has been aggravating me 'something awful' for quite some time now. Things have been going really well. I'm learning different stretches/exercises to 'loosen that which is bound' and 'strenghthen that which is weak'.
(Sounds like the beginning of a sermon but no worries...)
I really liked my therapist, too. Until today, when he tried to kill me.
Oh-ho, you laugh do you?
I. Am. Serious.
That man who I thought was so kind and helpful has a sadistic streak I never saw coming.
It all started with a new exercise called the 'plank'. The idea is to lean over a counter and use your stomach muscles to support your lower back. Here is my therapist's very artistic sketch of the 'plank'.
I had been doing this for a few days at home with good success. And then today, Tony (oh, yes, he does have a name) casually informed me that I was going to 'switch it up a bit'.
(Warning: When anyone casually says you are going to 'switch it up a bit' - run for your life.)
And that was when he introduced me to the 'ball' and explained to me how I was going to do the 'plank' on this wiggly, rubbery, slippery ball for 30 seconds.
Uh...ok. Sure, Tony.
But before Tony could do me in, there was a problem.
I approached the ball and attempted to get into 'proper position'.
I put my arms out and tilted to the left. I tiltled to the right.
I could not do it.
I hesitated. I cleared my throat. I blushed. I croaked...
"Uh, Tony...the ball is...uh,...crooked."
Tony looked at me like I'd. Lost. My. Mind.
I couldn't believe it. I was having a 'Monk moment'. In public. In front of my therapist!
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OK - pause the story. WHAT is a 'Monk moment', you ask? A little explanation.
"Monk" is a character on a show called...well, "Monk". Here's a description:
"Adrian Monk is a brilliant detective for the San Francisco Police Department despite retaining limitations rooted in his obsessive–compulsive disorder (OCD). Monk's compulsive habits are numerous, and a number of phobias compound his situation, such as his fear of germs and cups. Monk has 312 fears, some of which are milk, ladybugs, harmonicas, heights, imperfection and risk. The OCD and plethora of phobias inevitably lead to very awkward situations and cause problems for Monk and anyone around him, as he investigates cases. These same personal struggles, particularly the OCD, are what aid him in solving cases such as his sharp memory, specific mindset and attention to detail."
OK. Got it? Good. Back to the story.
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Now where was I...
Oh, yeah, Tony thought I had lost my mind.
You see, the stripes on the ball were crooked. How could I lean straight on a ball with crooked lines.
I just could not do it!
Here is what I mean.
The ball with crooked lines.
The ball with straight lines.
This was So. Much. Better.
Tony held the ball straight. "You can do this!" he encouraged me.
I lined myself up with the straight lines on the ball, lifted knees up off the ground and promptly flipped over onto the floor. Tony tried not to smile. I tried not to say mean things.
"No problem," Tony says, "let's try it again!"
I lined myself up...again. Elbows straight. Head down. Stomach muscles tight.
1...2...3...holding...holding...holding but shaking like a fall leaf in a 40 mile an hour wind. My stomach muscles are cramping, I am sweating like an obese plumber and my head is about to explode. I can no longer breathe and my heart is ready to force its way out of my heaving chest.
5 seconds...7 seconds...15 seconds! Tony says that blessed word "Stop."
He lets go of the ball and I flop over onto the floor like a water soaked rag doll.
Tony says, "Take a break and then you'll do it again."
I struggled to my knees and yelled (yes, I yelled), "Se-ri-ous-ly?!?" and gave him a look of death that only my husband could appreciate. He then wisely decided that maybe "'we could move on to something else."
I heard a therapist in an adjoining room laughing. Thinking she was laughing at me, I turned to share 'the look' with her. She giggled some more and said, "I love it when the clients tell off the therapists." My glare melted and I laughed all the way from the bottom of my cramping belly.
And that is how my therapists almost killed me.
Now about the 'Monk moment'. I confess it's not my only Monk 'issue'. Here are some of my other ones:
- I hate crooked pictures or towels.
- My food Must. Not. Touch.
- I turn my plate as I eat and eat clock wise - ONE food at a time. Usually my veggies first.
(My cousins found this highly entertaining growing up. I'd often hear, "Hey, let's watch Dawn eat!" at the dinner table.)
- The toilet paper must go OVER. This is not up for discussion, so don't even start.
- Just like Monk, I always try to have an even number of something. Why have 9 of something, when you can have 10?
- I ALWAYS have to wash jeans last when I do laundry. It is the rule. Don't ask me to explain. Don't blame me if you screw up my system and have to suffer the consequences. Including possibly watching me wash the jeans again...last. Like they are supposed to be.
Ok..that's enough for now.
Am I concerned about this? No. Because I know we all have our 'Monk moments'.
It's what make us unique and keeps us humble.
And it gives us something to laugh about.
And our family something to harass us about.
It's all good. Honest. :) Anywhoo...
Now its your turn. I would lo-ove to hear what some of your Monk moments or issues are!
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One last funny 'Monk Moment': Isaac got his locker assignment the other day at the middle school. He was so excited when he found out his locker number was...100! Ta-da! Monk would've been so proud :)
PS - thanks Mom, for getting us addicted to this show. We are just finishing up the last and final season on Netflix.
