Dang it! I’ve done that thing to my lower back again. I’m pretty sure it happened at the hairdresser, of all places – Marcus asked me to tip my head back towards the washing basin, and I felt that tweak. It’s odd, because I thought I was only moving from the neck. But it appears to be true what they say: the knee bone’s connected to the shinbone and so forth.
So now I’m sitting up perfectly straight on the lounge, doing my best not to bend my back or make any sudden movements. I’m aware that I’m doing what a physio once told me is called ‘bracing’, which is the body’s way of protecting itself from damage but is not necessarily the most effective response to minor tweaks and twinges that don’t actually involve tissue damage. Still, holding myself in this way makes me feel less like I’m about to disconnect that one thread holding everything together.
Alright, so that’s a ridiculous thought. There isn’t one fine thread that’s going to cause everything to unravel if it breaks. But I don’t know enough about anatomy to replace that mental image with something more realistic. I need a professional to tell me that it’s all good. Time to book in for a physical therapy appointment, evidently. Who’s got a Cheltenham physio recommendation?
There are so many different types of specialists around these days, though. Maybe I should try something new. My friend from book club is always telling me about the dry needling and cupping sessions she’s had at her latest myotherapy appointment. Cheltenham is still pretty new to me when it comes to finding services like this, but I can’t be travelling all the way up north every time I need something done.
I mean, it took me long enough to find Marcus, my hairdresser. It was worth it, though – when I told him I thought I might’ve just put my back out again, he offered me a glass of pinot.