A ticket to procrastination, via hypochondria

Writing may not seem like a physical job. We're not lifting heavy weights, tis true, unless you count the weight of words. We're not tossing cabers, or standing on our feet all day. But that's not to say that there are not side-effects to the job. Work injuries, so to speak.

Fortunately, the big item, the paper cut, is fewer and farther between these days. I'm still surrounded by a sea of paper, but that's more just my inefficient filing systems than anything work-related. But that day-to-day horror that is the sore neck and shoulders shows no sign of abating.

Today I went to see my physio. I've been putting it off for, oh, six or so months. Mostly because his last name involves beating people up (seriously) and that's pretty much how I feel when I leave. Not his fault. No. He tells me it's my fault for leaving it too long between visits.

Our conversations go like this:

Phyiso: "Where does it hurt?"

Me: "Here, here, here - oh, and here."

Physio: "Okay, let's cut to the chase. Where doesn't it hurt?"

Ha.

Moments later:

Me: "Ow. No, really ow. This is hurting me much more than it's hurting you."

Physio: "True. I live for this stuff."

Good grief.

Having prodded all my trigger points and wrapped me in ice for 20 minutes, he declared me ready to leave. He sat opposite me, in his shorts (have you ever met a physio who was a fan of the full-length trouser?), face serious, and proceeded to lecture me on how I need to take better care of myself and - and here was the pay-off moment of the whole visit - embrace hypochondria.

"Take it seriously," he said. "Stop at the first sign of pain. Walk away from the computer. Take a break."

So there you have it people - a ticket to procrastination.

[image: hobbiesfromtheheart/etsy via (nay, because of) Maxabella)