I don’t care WHAT YOU THINK, but…
I am NOT a plunger!
Here I am lying on my physical therapist’s table in pain waiting for her to work her wonders on my body. After all I am Humpty Dumpty and various parts of me decide to go on vacation because they feel they are over-worked. The bursitis in both of my hips is driving me nuts as I can’t sleep at night because I can’t find a comfortable position for sleeping.
The doctor has ordered ultrasound as I’m too chicken to have him inject one of those enormous needles into both of my hips. Before the therapist leaves the room she explains that she has a new technique she wants to try on me instead of the ultrasound equipment, if I’m willing. Sure, I make a great Guinea Pig.
So I wait patiently, filled with curiosity, as to what in the world this NEW technique the therapist plans to use on me. At last she opens the door, walks in, and is holding a plunger? Do my eyes deceive me? Heck, do I even dare ask what the heck she plans to do with this plunger? The therapist approaches the table to lean over me to show me the plunger handle that is labeled, “I am NOT a plunger.” Also, around the rubber base edge of the plunger it states “I am Not a plunger.” My therapist looks at me with a straight face and says “This is NOT a plunger.”
She explains that she plans to use the “Not a plunger” on both of my hips, to draw the bursitis out of my hips. With this I burst into laughter with a “Yah-RIGHT!” I now have tears running down my cheeks due to my hysterical laughter. This must be a joke… right? At this my therapist instructs me to turn on my side. I manage to do this without falling off the table with my belly laugh. She quietly says, “Laughter is good for you” and with that she rolls up my shorts and works away like we would on any clogged drain. Only this isn’t a clogged drain, at least not literally. There is a lot of crap in my system, but she isn’t even working on that end.
After a few significant plunges on my hip she instructs me to turn over and she attacks my other hip with the “I’m NOT a plunger.” Sadly, since the “I’m NOT a plunger” isn’t a plunger, it was unsuccessful at pulling all the crap out of my system via my hips. Hmmm, maybe she should have tried the other end.