I have an amazing friend who stabbed me in the back today. Literally.
Multiple times, in fact…
She’s still an amazing friend, believe it or not.
You see, I was kinda asking for it, really…
Like when you’re texting with your friend and say: “Hey, it’s your day off work and I’m just studying all day, so why don’t we get together and I’ll buy the coffee and you can inflict intense pain on me and incite such agony that I’ll just lay there and let you do it again and again?”
How can any amazing friend say no to that offer?? Especially when there’s FREE coffee involved?
Before I go any further and let you continue believing that I’m delusional and that my amazing friend is actually a masochistic, wanna-be murderer, I should probably clarify that my friend, lets call her Annie,* is actually neither of those things (well we can maybe debate the masochist thing…). Annie is a physiotherapist and she was actually “stabbing” me in the back with tiny needles, performing a kind of “therapy” called IMS. Believe it or not, some guy named Gunn (seriously… I can’t make this shit up… Gunn? Needles? What’s next in the world of therapy?) came up with an idea to stick needles into painful muscles with the intention of making them feel better. What’s even crazier? There are actually insane people who pay (and sometimes beg) for someone to do this to them!
Oh, wait… those people are me. Right…
Let me remind you, though, that I’m a desperate chronic pain sufferer and I’m willing to try anything if it means I might get some relief from my pain. So in all reality I’m not that crazy after all. I’m just desperate… and, people like Annie are actually the crazy ones for deriving their daily happiness and life satisfaction from inflicting pain on their clients, and in this case, their amazing friends (do you see what I did there? I safely assumed that since she is an amazing friend… I am also an amazing friend) –
Anyway, I told you we could likely debate the whole masochist thing…
I guess I shouldn’t judge though… I mean my job has me doing one of three things on a daily basis:
1. Politely asking women to take off their pants, then helping them put their legs up into some itty bitty plastic heel holders (that must have been invented by a man), pointing a bright spotlight between their legs, and then asking their permission to “examine” them, all the while knowing how uncomfortable and awkward it is to have another woman’s hand “up there” while discussing the weather… or your kids…
2. Convincing women to let some other doctor drug them into unconsciousness so that I can then cut them open (with a knife) and remove/repair/investigate/or do whatever to their internal and/or external lady bits…
3. Telling women who have a baby’s head half way out their vagina that “I know it hurts” (except that I actually don’t because I chickened out and was ready for that epidural even before I pulled up to the curb) and if they just push through the pain it will all be over. And if they don’t stop screaming in my face and refuse to listen to me… I can always cut them…
But this story is not about me and my crazy life choices; it is about my friend Annie and her crazy life choices that led to her using her day off (without her kids, might I add) to voluntarily stab me in the back with little needles.
After the needles were done, Annie decided to take pity on me and massage my now pin-pricked and battered back. Well, at least I thought it was a massage until she started pushing her hand (what I assumed was her hand, but it could have been her elbow, or her knee, or even her heel for all I knew) into some kind of hard and painful and immobile part of my back. “What IS that?’ I asked her, with complete sincerity. She replied by saying: “THAT is the worst, most immobile thorax I have ever encountered!” You might think I would take that as an insult. However, I actually see it as a compliment… perhaps something worth winning an award for, maybe? Le me explain:
I figure that I must have one helluva bad back if a physiotherapist, who’s entire work-life is defined by
torturing treating people’s broken and injured body parts, tells me that I have THE WORST back she’s ever seen. Basically what she’s saying is: “You have the best, worst back ever.” SO there you have it. I am the best at having… a bad back. Let me assure you that this is not necessarily an award you want to win.
Okay, so back to my story about Annie – my-super-amazing-come-in-on-her-day-off-and-make-me-buy-her-coffee-possibly-masochistic-but-lovely-kind-funny-and-generous-friend – who after complementing me on my guinness-worthy horrible back, actually did take pity on me and provided me with some lovely heat on every part of my body that she just finished ravaging. Despite all my teasing, Annie is, for real, an amazing friend who realized that I need a bit of a helping hand through this ridiculous and soul ravaging (and apparently back breaking) time of my life. (I will also take this moment to clarify that I offered to bring the coffee… she did not demand the coffee – I added that for dramatic effect). So before leaving me to enjoy my heat and the somewhat painless “honeymoon period” that exists between the pain of the needles and the pain that will come once the muscles recover from their trauma, Annie gave me a little wink, picked up her coffee and said “see you Monday!” We both know that this entire experience will be worth every pain-staking minute when I wake up tomorrow morning feeling just a bit less broken than I do today.
And, I will forever appreciate the help and kindness from an amazing friend, even if she stabs me in the back… repeatedly.
*We both know that this is not your real name… (name has been changed to protect my amazing friend’s privacy and secret masochistic tendencies)
P.S. You all know I’m joking about the masochism, right?
P.P.S. I don’t think Annie actually noticed that I scribbled all over her coffee cup until after she was half-way home and wondering, “why the heck wold anyone DRAW crazy shit on a Starbucks cup?” But then she did send me this picture, which made me happy because I felt less guilty about her using up her kid-free-day-off to fix me up.