Adventures in Physio

It’s been a while since I blogged as my family and I have almost bankrupted the NHS between us this past year. I'm trying not to be a 'Debbie Downer' so I thought I might share my experiences at physiotherapy recently since it seemed to amuse the people I recounted them to (and I happen to have a new book about a sexy Canadian ex-ice hockey pro turned physiotherapist in Northern Ireland!)

I’ve come to accept the fact that my body has decided to give up on me now that I’m past forty and it seems I'm not the only one, middle age was a common feature for all of us waiting in that dingy room for perky, young physiotherapists to collect us.

I was feeling rather smug that I’d thought ahead and worn a vest top under my clothes so I wouldn’t have to suffer the humiliation of having to strip down to my underwear in front of **James who didn’t look much older than my son. Less so when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

*Note to self: Vest tops should only be worn by toned, tanned young girls and not pasty, middle-aged women. Otherwise you look like an under-cooked, over-stuffed sausage.*

All too soon it was the poking and prodding stage to find out what could be causing the pain in my shoulder. I’ve never had a ‘spa day’ or felt the need for a massage and now I know why. I have never felt as awkward in my life.

My friend once told me she’d toyed with the idea of physiotherapy until it was pointed out to her she would have to touch people who might be less than hygienic. Despite the knowledge I’d showered only an hour earlier, I couldn’t get that thought out of my head. Whilst **James spent the next few minutes manipulating the joint I spent that time cringing for him that he had to touch my rolls of fat, wondering if my skin was clammy or if I’d shaved my pits that morning. Then, as he bent my elbow up round my head I took a quick sniff to make sure I didn’t have BO.

The massage table didn’t improve the awkward atmosphere. Probably because I thought it polite to ask if I should take my boots off before I climbed into a strange man’s bed.

**James tried to massage the knots in my neck – “You’re very tense.”

Because you’re touching me, **James.

“Relax, Karin.”

I can’t, **James. YOU’RE TOUCHING ME!

I tried to make up for my inability to lie down and be massaged like a normal person, by being a good student and mirroring the exercise regime he showed me with a torture device called a resistance band.

“Er, you need to do it with your left arm. You know, the one that’s giving you the problem…”

“You need to stand on the knotted end, Karin, so it doesn’t fly up and hit you in the face.”

I needed a pictorial reference in the end since my goldfish brain couldn’t recall one exercise to the next. The man had the patience of a saint.

Bless him, he took to making small talk about my books to cover my embarrassment. Then I remembered my next novel was about a sexy, male physiotherapist. AAGH! He’s going to think it’s about him.

This pattern continued for several months. Except for those occasions when I was perched under some sort of heat lamp for the duration and managed to convince myself he hadn't turned it on and I was sitting like a lemon for twenty minutes.

Unfortunately physio didn't work for me and I've had two cortisone injections since. The lady treating me now is lovely but I'm not any less awkward around her. I recently purchased these which explains everything about me and think I'll wear to future ventures outside of home:

I am thankful for small mercies though. The person who persuaded me to post this blog told me her physio includes the phrase 'roll over so your ass is in the air'! I think I'd have combusted from sheer embarrassment.

And people wonder why I prefer fiction to reality…

**Names have been changed to protect innocent physiotherapists

Reforming the Playboy

From playboy…to father and husband?

Hunter Torrance, ex-Demons ice hockey star, is back—now as the team physiotherapist! And while team doctor Charlotte Michaels doesn’t believe he’s changed his playboy ways, the attraction between them is undeniable!

Hunter has worked hard at becoming a father to little Alfie, his newly-found son. With Charlotte’s help, he knows he can be—though she guards her heart as fiercely as he does his. He’s sure they could be a family—if only they can take the risk!

Buy Links:

Amazon US

Amazon UK

Mills& Boon