Jo M. Orise – Been painting but…

But My Butt Hurts!

“Just One of Those Days”
graphic by: Jo M. Orise (formerly: J.S. Cabana)

Had trouble sitting for the last eight months.

I know why— sat too long at my desk working on a super, important project. 😂

The first evening, I felt uncomfortable. I ignored the problem and continued the project for several hours—had to catch up before our long drive home.

The next day, I did the same thing.

Retiring for the night, I reviewed my decision of the previous two days—sitting on what I now consider a most uncomfortable chair was a bad choice. Been using that chair for the last five years and never had a problem. To make things worse, I would be sitting in a vehicle for the next three days during our drive home. Super bad decision.

I was right.

By the time we got home, my leg was inflamed from butt to ankle. Had to be sciatica. Happened years ago, but not so bad.

Fast forward eight months. After having favored the butt and leg with homeopathic lotions and turmeric and the occasional Ibuprofen, I managed to reduce the inflammation to a small spot on my butt—right where the body sits on a chair. Small but very uncomfortable.

Our recent plan, another three days drive back here. The place were the terrible deed was committed.

We drove off, with much trepidation on my ‘end.’ 😩

What RELIEF! The trip was not bad. I applied the lotion twice a day and whenever needed. Plus the turmeric and occasional Ibuprofen helped. Now a dull pain was annoying me. Not so bad.

Off we went—two fifteen mile bike rides.

I decided to slow down.

Hubby was sympathetic.

I was besides myself. (Besides my butt?)

Hubby had a medical appointment… returning home he suggested I make an appointment to see our doctor. Reluctant at first, I finally called.

“See you tomorrow!”

Wow! Tomorrow! Hubby had filled her in and persuaded her to see me ASAP.

Doc poked and prodded. I was not hurting too badly. She scheduled an x-ray. Arthritis in the tailbone. Nothing else.

After she examined me, my pain nearly vanished. A few days later it was basically gone. Now how is that for a super doctor. She did that once before. I had another pain in my right hip area. She examined me. I went home and decided to take something new. I mixed a little Collagen mixture in water before bed. Next day the pain was gone. Never came back.

So, did I heal slowly on my own or did I have the opportunity to have my doctor ‘heal’ me with her touch? I’ve told her she had healing hands. At least I would like to think so.

Now my butt sits comfortably on a more padded seat. I don’t sit as long as I used to.

Take heed. Get off you behind every now and then. Take a walk, bicycle or swim. Baby fat may help keep you padded and comfortable however, as you get older, that cute baby fat look will dwindle and aches and pains take over. Learn to deal with them and especially learn how to avoid them.
Or, perhaps you will find a miracle healer like I did. 😉

Do you have a story about a healing touch? 
Leave a commentlike this post and please share. 😊

Jo M. Orise Painful Art Update – July, 2015

Morning at the Docks, 16×20″ acrylic on canvas.
At River Arts Gallery until July 30.

“Morning at the Docks” is on Display at River Arts Gallery, Route 1, in Damariscotta, Maine.
It is part of a group show for the month of July.

I also have a few matted original paintings in the art bin located at the back of the gallery.

The opening night of this month’s show was scheduled for Friday, 5-7PM.

It was a great show with lots of people mulling around from room to room.

_____________

However, earlier that day, as I painted, the small 8×10″ canvas slipped off the easel and onto my bare right foot. The corner or this tiny canvas hit my metatarsals with such a vehement punch that I found myself clutching my foot, wincing and moaning in pain.

Fußskelett
Fußskelett (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

An 8×10″ teeny, weeny canvas can do that? It doesn’t even weigh half a pound—even with the oil paint.

😈After a few minutes, being a diligent grown up, I picked up the canvas, gave it a good talking to, and ignoring the pain down below, I slapped more paint onto that little canvas.

The pain vanished.

With the injury forgotten, maneuvering the stairs to the second floor,  the basement and up again and later driving forty minutes to the gallery opening scheduled for 5:00 PM was a cinch.

Everything seemed as it should be.

As I meandered around the gallery, ooohing and aaahing at the other artwork and shyly meeting other artists, a little twinge developed atop the upper metatarsal area of my right foot. Hmm. Was it due to walking in my new, sole-stimulating sandals most of the day? Perhaps a pressure point developed from the sandal making my foot uncomfortable. Perhaps my foot was swollen due to the time of day. Well, that happened before and usually went away after a few minutes. So, I loosened the sandal and walked, ooohing and aaahing some more.

Twenty minutes later, the focus was my foot! The pain grew more pronounced. Was there a place to sit? The one chair was occupied by an older person. I stood the aggravation for another fifteen minutes. Propping myself by the piano for balance, I raised the right foot up off the floor.

Another ten minutes and it was unbearable. Catching the hostess eying me in my strange stance, I explained my dilemma. I wanted to stay, but felt I had to leave. Glancing at my foot, she noted a swelling and redness and suggested the tiny blood vessels were probably swelling, that I should ice it at home.

Leaving one hour earlier than planned finally provided me with a seat—in my car. Aaah.

Wouldn’t you know, while driving, the pain worsened with each mile, each acceleration and each brake action. Driving with my left foot came to mind, but that is impossible with a standard shift. So, gritting my teeth, I counted the miles and minutes to be home again.

At last! I pulled into the basement garage. Now, my damned foot decided to stay by the accelerator. It would not budge due to the awful pain. Grabbing and guiding my leg out from the car and onto the floor was excruciatingly painful. Breathing heavily and clenching my teeth, I pulled myself out of the seat and clung onto the car’s door and the firewood stacked next to the car. Between the car and the firewood, I managed to hobble to the end of the car. Walking was nearly impossible. Now I had to get to the stairs at the other end of the cellar. I was stuck and hurting with nothing to lean on.

Hubby was upstairs listening to the news!

“Tom!” No answer.

“Tom! I need you! Tom.”

Pulling out my cell phone, I dialed his. As usual, A.T.T. was useless. We are in the same house and can not call each other! Bad reception here.

“TO-O-O-O-O-O-M!” that did it.

“What’s the matter hon? Why are you home so early?”

Ice cubes in a tray
emptied the tray of  Ice cubes  (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Hubby helped me to the stairs where I literally crawled up the stairs and to the living room sofa on my knees.

Having ordered a large dose of ice cubes and a wet towel, hubby sat nearby massaging my foot.

Besides icing it, I kept my foot elevated onto the back of he sofa. The pain finally subsided about one in the morning. Hubby was already snoring away upstairs. Hobbling up to our bedroom, I was grateful to be upright again.

The next morning, I was able to walk and decided to take it easy.

My foot just ignores me now. It denies it ever had a problem. But sometimes I think I catch a smirk when it is not paying attention.

I am blessed. It could have been worse. :-)