If you've followed my blog then you know I'm being treated by an acupuncturist for a serious potentially life-long foot injury. A couple of weeks ago, the doctor of Chinese medicine gave me some self-adhesive medicating patches. They smelled like the herbal section of a health food store. Interesting, herby, but bearable. They were relatively affective for relieving pain. Grateful for the pain relief, I used them. This week I over did it on an errand. More pain. Intense pain - no relief even when sitting or lying down. I met with the good doctor again this morning. Bless him. At the end of our session he carried in a plastic bag of more patches. However, these were a different color. "You wear these - pain be less," he says. "Thank you, Thank YOU!" I say. Then he opened the bag. Oooo, oh my! "What is THAT?"
"This different patch. These strongest patch. You wear, pain be less."
"Yes, but, what is it?" He smiled as he nodded, "Ahh, this good medicine, help muscle relax," more smiles and nods. I feared, from the smell, they'd probably make the muscle dissolve. The secret ingredient must be Yak pee. They smell like a rest stop bathroom. If the pain weren't so bad I would have politely refused. But alas, the pain is mightier than the stench. Therefore - I wear them. (Uh-oh, have water aerobics class tonight, what will the ladies think?!) The friend who picked me up from the appointment, rolled the car windows down when I got in. "Sorry," I said by way of explanation, "Yak pee."
"Of course, that must be it" she concurred simultaneously turning her face toward the open window. Good thing it was a short drive back to my house. Even my precious, sweetly intoxicating pink jasmine were offended. They crinkled their noses and pulled in their blossoms as I walked past.
I don't know which is worse, smelling like Yak pee, or being crippled? When I start hacking up fur-balls, which could be anytime, I may have a decision to make.
"This different patch. These strongest patch. You wear, pain be less."
"Yes, but, what is it?" He smiled as he nodded, "Ahh, this good medicine, help muscle relax," more smiles and nods. I feared, from the smell, they'd probably make the muscle dissolve. The secret ingredient must be Yak pee. They smell like a rest stop bathroom. If the pain weren't so bad I would have politely refused. But alas, the pain is mightier than the stench. Therefore - I wear them. (Uh-oh, have water aerobics class tonight, what will the ladies think?!) The friend who picked me up from the appointment, rolled the car windows down when I got in. "Sorry," I said by way of explanation, "Yak pee."
"Of course, that must be it" she concurred simultaneously turning her face toward the open window. Good thing it was a short drive back to my house. Even my precious, sweetly intoxicating pink jasmine were offended. They crinkled their noses and pulled in their blossoms as I walked past.
I don't know which is worse, smelling like Yak pee, or being crippled? When I start hacking up fur-balls, which could be anytime, I may have a decision to make.