Lessons in Walking

As mentioned several days ago, I spent Sunday afternoon assaulting my own body on the dance floor. As also mentioned, I haven't done a lick of dancing in three months. Okay, that may not be entirely true. I may have done plies once, but that hardly counts as anything legitimate. I dreaded going to bed Sunday evening, first because I would wake up to Monday which is almost never good, and second, I was afeared that I would desperately want to not be in my own body due to the impending pain.

Both fears were realized. I woke up to it not only being Monday, but to soreness to the extreme of hardly being able to roll over to hit snooze without wanting to cry. The sensation was similar to someone threading a crowbar through my spinal muscles and thighs... And then pulling in every whichway direction.

After nearly an hour of whimpering (and continually hitting snooze), I managed to roll myself out of bed (and I'm not exaggerating. Quite literally rolled out of bed). It probably took about 7 minutes to walk from my bedroom to the bathroom, which is a span I could normally cross in about 4.5 seconds. This was not looking promising.

Considering that it was in fact Monday, I did have to go into the office. Now, this may not have been too terrible if it weren't for a few factors. First off, there are steps involved at the office. Second, I actually have to walk places. Third, when I hurt this bad... I waddle. Its completely involuntary and I have zero control over it whatsoever. But, I doubt that anyone would be able to walk normally when one's muscles are in this much distress.

Fourth on the list of terrible factors is that I learned the literal manifestation of the phrase "knee-jerk reaction." Oh yes. My right quad muscle was, for all intents and purposes, destroyed temporarily. Each time I would extend my right leg to take a step, it would spontaneous fling itself outward. And I stress the words "spontaneous" and "fling" in that last sentence. I actually considered finding myself a priest to excise the demon out of it or something, because, try as I might, I could not control it. At all. It was ridiculous. And also very comical. I attempted to laugh at myself quite a few times, but it hurt my back too much, so I decided against it.

Talk about embarrassing. I had to waddle around the office, with an out-of-control leg, while desperately attempting to look like a normal person. I honestly felt like I had transformed into Jerry Lewis. Going to the restroom involved conquering 2 whole steps. Each way. Not to mention that these things required me to actually stand up out of my chair. Sweet Lord in heaven, save me!!

Thank goodness, my officemate is a sheer pip. For the last 2 days, she has alternated between feeling very sorry for me to attempting to keep a straight face every time that I had to stand up, the latter of which she rarely succeeded in. Not that I can blame her. I believe that I would have had a difficult time staying serious if I had a coworker who walked like she was 95 and with a possessed leg.

But, the third day's the charm (or something like that) and I can now almost walk down steps, have regained some control over my possessed leg and can actually stand up without using some stable surface for leverage. Looks like I won't have to call that priest after all...