physiotherapy

There has been so much going on at Le Château. Firstly, my students have completed their exams and this pretty much sums up their level of preparedness:

Cat Daddy is home, and Louis Catorze is so happy about this that his screaming and purring have been through the roof. A couple of nights ago a flock of parakeets, irritated by the infernal racket, gathered to see what was going on in the garden below. Yes, it was THAT bad.

*I know, they’re fine ones to object to noise pollution.*

Dans un autre domaine, as well as my long-standing neck and shoulder problems, I now have a new lower back problem which just came from nowhere. So I have been back to the physio again.

Cat Daddy, before my appointment: “I bet it’s because of all those hours on the sofa watching horror films with HIM on your lap.”

Me: “I’ve sat on that sofa with him a zillion times and my back’s always been fine. It can’t possibly be that.”

During my appointment:

Physio: “Was there a particular activity that caused you to hurt your back?”

Me: “No. It was just like that when I woke up one morning.”

Her: “Lower backs don’t react well to many hours in the same position …”

Me: “…”

Her: “Have you been doing a lot of sitting down lately?”

Merde.

Since this is the same physio that I saw when I had my Laziness With Cat knee injury, I couldn’t quite bring myself to tell her that I now had a new injury caused by the same thing. So I just said I didn’t know. Yes, I know how preposterous it sounds to tell someone that you actually DON’T KNOW whether or not you’ve been doing a lot of sitting down.

Anyway, the physio has given me some exercises to do twice a day, and it seems that Le Roi does not approve of these exercises. Which is a bit rude since he is the reason I have to do them. He has let me know of his disapproval by circling me on the bed as I do the exercises, screaming his guts out, then putting his front paws onto me and screaming some more.

I guess this is the end of me being TUC unless I take regular stretch breaks every two hours. Not that Sa Maj gives a merde since he is now back in his happy place:

My Laziness With Cat knee injury is no better and, in fact, if anything, it appears to be getting worse. So, this week, I went to see a physio to find out why and to try to get it fixed.

Physio: “So how did you do it?”

Me: “Erm … ahem … I sat with my feet extended outwards, and my cat resting on my legs.” [I mutter the last bit under my breath in the hope that she might mishear, but she hears perfectly well and now it actually says on my notes: “Sat with legs stretched out and cat on knees.”]

Her: “Oh dear. That’s not a good position to be in with nothing supporting the backs of your knees. Especially with a heavy cat on you.”

[I can’t quite bring myself to tell her that Louis Catorze is actually gossamer-light and that the injury more likely came about because I didn’t budge from that sofa for ~~about 10 hours~~ quite some time, so I just nod at this point. Nor do I mention that I kept crisps and champagne within arm’s reach so that I wouldn’t have to disturb Sa Maj by getting up for food and drink.]

Anyway, it seems that I have over-stretched my knee and some tendon is inflamed, so I have had an ultrasound treatment with that wet jelly stuff to bring down the inflammation. The knee is now strapped up with that weird black tape that athletes use which, whilst not pretty, is moderately better than the TubiGrip and gives some authenticity to the story that I am some grande sportive with a training injury. And, as we edge nearer to the date of the half-marathon in which I pretended to be participating, at least now I seem to have the perfect excuse not to do it (or anything, come to that).

Here is Sa Maj, disapproving of my sloth even though he is partly to blame for it:

jesuisleroisoleil

Je crie, donc je suis

Les douleurs lombaires

À genoux devant Le Roi