Friday, March 4, 2011

Wow, can I ever dream in technicolour!

Two consecutive nights of good sleep.  Are you kidding?
Yeh, about that business of always sleeping well the night on which I've had a massage ... I guess it's not always true. Cuz it didn't work last night.
I slept horribly.  Woke, I swear, every hour and a half.
I did manage to stay in bed until approaching 6:00am, but it was such a fragmented night that I certainly don't feel rested today.
And my angel is coming over with her family later today.  It was her husband's birthday earlier this week so we're kind of having a celebratory dinner with them (nobody else, just the five of us).  Pot roast about which John has been salivating for several weeks now.  And I made a from-scatch cake that took forever in preparation time last night so it better be good.  (My cake decorating skills leave something to be desired but that shouldn't affect the taste.)
Anyway, back to the matter of my massage therapy not providing me with a good night's sleep last night.
As I mentioned here, this past week has not been a good one for me.  My left hip has been especially problematic.
My massage therapist's clinic is in an old Victorian house and they're undergoing changes to the configuration of the space.  The "clinic" had been upstairs, where there is a washroom, and the reception was on the main level, where there is also washroom.  The house is essentially split into two distinct sides, with access to one from the other, but only on the main level.  They maintained one treatment room on the other side of the house, on the main level, for those clients who couldn't manage the stairs.
Previously, I was able to use the washroom on the main level, scoot over to the treatment room on the other side, and then again use the washroom before leaving (remember that thimble-size bladder of mine?).
Well, they've recently rented out the one side of the house to a private tenant, and their clinic now occupies the side of the house that does not have the washroom on the main level.  I can no longer use the washroom on the main floor.  Eventually, they will be putting in a small washroom for clients like me, but until then ...
As a matter of course, I try to not use my stair lift at least three times each day, just for the exercise.  So, I figured that on massage day, my first stair trip would be at the massage clinic.
That worked out just fine last week, with no ill effects.
But when I got there yesterday, my hip was already giving me fits.  I could have opted to take my treatment in the downstairs room, but I really needed to pee (naturally!).  And I always need to pee after my massage (I would never be able to endure the drive home without first making that pit stop!).  So, up the stairs I had to go.
Well, I was slowly making my way up, both feet on each stair, and I made it to the third last step when I could go no further.  Just couldn't manage one more move!  I stayed there, hanging on for dear life, until I recovered.
Then I very gingerly moved my right leg up to the next step and in doing so, a searing pain went tearing through my left groin.
That did it. The rest of the trip was managed at almost a crawl pace, as I dragged my left leg behind me.
My arrival in the treatment room shocked my massage therapist.
"Bonnie," she cried, "what is wrong with you?"
"Oh dear," I murmured, "those stairs really did me in this time."
So a discussion ensued about various options that could be available until the washroom is installed on the main floor.
The option my massage therapist likes best is that she come to me.  Her proposal is that she will make a weekly house call: one week on Friday; the next on Saturday.  Time to be determined.
She'll have to discuss the logistics with her husband, since they have to juggle responsibility for four young children along with the schedule of their busy clinic.
Since my schedule is open, I'll take whatever works for her, under the circumstances.  Just so long as I can have her weekly ministrations, and be able to empty my thimble-sized bladder before and after the therapy.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Now that's service!