Friday, October 31, 2008

You stay classy, San Diegome

So, after way too many doctor's appointments and low-level pain meds, I finally decided to cash in my prescription for physical therapy. I'm sure my reluctance lay in the fact that I worked for a physical therapist before and, aside from being a colossal douche, he would do stuff like put an ice pack on a person's knee and charge the insurance company $50 for that - I figured that I'm quite capable of putting a bag of frozen peas down my own pants, you know? Buuuut, my back had been in pain for almost a month and I was kind of tired of it.

So - last Friday, I had my first appointment - the (really cute) PT guy talked to me about the pain, about some exercises to help alleviate the pain, blah blah blah. Then they did some electrical thing on my back, they they came to get me to tell me that the massage therapist is ready for me.

The... what? Now, if you know me, you know that I'm not one of those people who's like "ooooh, yay, a massage". It's more like "Ew, some stranger, manhandling my back flesh." - But I figured that I was already there, so... I followed the guy back into a teeny little cubicle and he tells me to take off my shirt and bra.

Proof that I was so squicked by the massage thing? I didn't even ask him to buy me dinner first. (also, at the end, he says that he's going to grab a towel to wipe some of this sticky stuff off and I didn't even say "That's what she said")

So - the massage was the most painful thing ever - I felt super bruised and awful - which, apparently, is what what a deep tissue massage is supposed to do? So... way to go?

The next time I'm in there I mention to one of the other cute PT guys how Josh, the massage guy, kind of kicked my ass. He mentions that it was supposed to do be painful, but that it was also Josh's last day, so maybe he was taking out some of his aggressions on me. Then he gets to talking about how they're looking for new massage therapists and interviewing people and how a part of the interview is for the interviewee to give the interviewer a massage.

Completely without thinking, I say "I bet a big part of the final decision has to do with the happy ending."

Cue the PT guy turning bright red and our conversation falling into an awkward silence.