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Massage, Hike, Sushi...
Mm... felt pretty decent today. Had a massage, then an appointment with the new physiatrist.
Who I like very much, and probably won't see much of. (This is pretty much ideal in terms of how I want to deal with doctors.) He doesn't want to treat me, really, except double check my X-rays and make sure nothing's being missed -- he's happy with how I'm progressing, things I'm in better shape by a good measure than most of the population, and thinks most interventions, like steroid injections, would be foolhardy. (I *really* agree. Especially after the steroid injections into my cervical spine fiasco some years back.) He wanted to make sure I understood that with my history of previous injuries it was going to take time.
He also guessed my weight within ten pounds looking at me. Okay, admittedly he'd seen me wearing just a hospital gown, so he'd actually seen my bare legs, which is a major clue, but I'm used to most medical people estimating my weight at about 75% of what it actually is. Even when I tell them otherwise. Which always annoys me... especially if they freak out about it when they finally get the right numbers, and *then* try to convince me I'm obese. (My previous doctor takes the cake on this -- when I pointed out that I'm really quite muscular, he started going on about intra-muscular fat. Uh... dude, muscle is heavier than fat. I have intra-muscular muscle -- if I had intra-muscular fat, I'd weight less. Do the fucking math.) Anyhow, I kind of ducked my head and said something about how I have been losing a fair bit of fat, but I've gained almost as much muscle, weight wise, and he said "You're really muscular, and you're a big girl, and you're an athlete. Don't worry about it."
(Heh. I'm an athlete. That cracks me up.)
I'm still hoping to get rid of the extra abdominal fat (oh, and maybe a few other spots) and I'd like to shed a cup size or two (the abdominal fat is getting better, but I'm not sure anything short of surgery will fix the other)... but darn... that was really vindicating. I'm pretty happy with my body right now. When it deigns to work, anyway, which has been mostly. When I'm in pain, everything goes to hell, but hey, doesn't that figure?
Of course, he also asked if I'd be his bodyguard next time he goes to New York. (I accepted on the spot -- my little brother is in New York, and I don't see nearly enough of him -- but I'm afraid he's not serious.)
And then I had some awfully decent sushi, and met up with my mother and had quite a pleasant little hike up by Twin Falls. Though she wouldn't let me take her shoe shopping. (Her only pair of hiking boots are forty years old, big, clunky things. So she wore Keds, and complained because the soles were thin and her feet hurt.)
And then a very pleasant late dinner at the Fremont Classic Bistro with Craig...
Who I like very much, and probably won't see much of. (This is pretty much ideal in terms of how I want to deal with doctors.) He doesn't want to treat me, really, except double check my X-rays and make sure nothing's being missed -- he's happy with how I'm progressing, things I'm in better shape by a good measure than most of the population, and thinks most interventions, like steroid injections, would be foolhardy. (I *really* agree. Especially after the steroid injections into my cervical spine fiasco some years back.) He wanted to make sure I understood that with my history of previous injuries it was going to take time.
He also guessed my weight within ten pounds looking at me. Okay, admittedly he'd seen me wearing just a hospital gown, so he'd actually seen my bare legs, which is a major clue, but I'm used to most medical people estimating my weight at about 75% of what it actually is. Even when I tell them otherwise. Which always annoys me... especially if they freak out about it when they finally get the right numbers, and *then* try to convince me I'm obese. (My previous doctor takes the cake on this -- when I pointed out that I'm really quite muscular, he started going on about intra-muscular fat. Uh... dude, muscle is heavier than fat. I have intra-muscular muscle -- if I had intra-muscular fat, I'd weight less. Do the fucking math.) Anyhow, I kind of ducked my head and said something about how I have been losing a fair bit of fat, but I've gained almost as much muscle, weight wise, and he said "You're really muscular, and you're a big girl, and you're an athlete. Don't worry about it."
(Heh. I'm an athlete. That cracks me up.)
I'm still hoping to get rid of the extra abdominal fat (oh, and maybe a few other spots) and I'd like to shed a cup size or two (the abdominal fat is getting better, but I'm not sure anything short of surgery will fix the other)... but darn... that was really vindicating. I'm pretty happy with my body right now. When it deigns to work, anyway, which has been mostly. When I'm in pain, everything goes to hell, but hey, doesn't that figure?
Of course, he also asked if I'd be his bodyguard next time he goes to New York. (I accepted on the spot -- my little brother is in New York, and I don't see nearly enough of him -- but I'm afraid he's not serious.)
And then I had some awfully decent sushi, and met up with my mother and had quite a pleasant little hike up by Twin Falls. Though she wouldn't let me take her shoe shopping. (Her only pair of hiking boots are forty years old, big, clunky things. So she wore Keds, and complained because the soles were thin and her feet hurt.)
And then a very pleasant late dinner at the Fremont Classic Bistro with Craig...