I swear it was the Air Hockey

In the Murphy's Law of doctor's appointments, my ear didn't hurt as much when I woke up today, NATCH, because I went ahead and made that appointment yesterday. If I hadn't made the appointment I would be gouging out my ear with a letter opener by now, I'm sure. This is exactly the same phenomenon as when my car magically stops making the funny noise it's been making for months the very second I drive it onto the mechanic's lot. Dan made me keep the appointment (LOVE THAT MAN) when I said I was going to cancel it. I didn't want to pay the co-pay for them to tell me that I have a cold, but Dan said he didn't want me to be miserable all weekend if it started to hurt again five minutes after the doctor's office closed--which is the norm. Plus, my back has been hurting for a month and it was time to get that checked out too.

So I went, thank goodness, because my ear canal is inflamed. The ear drum looks okay, though, so I don't have to try to find an oral antibiotic that I'm not allergic to. I have prescription ear drops which don't seem to be doing much for me yet, but we'll see.

The best part of the appointment was when the doctor said, "So what did you do to your back?" Because see, here's the deal. Remember when we first got the air hockey table and we didn't attach the legs yet--we just sat cross-legged in the floor and s-t-r-e-t-c-h-e-d to hit the little pucky thing? Yep, you guessed it.

I torqued my back.

Playing air hockey.

Which no one believes.

When you say you hurt your back playing air hockey you get a "wink, wink, nudge, nudge" response. If Dan and another man are around there is much elbowing, high-fiving and back-slapping. People assume that there was something kinky going on and that "playing air hockey" is what the kids are calling IT these days. Um, sadly, no. It was the hockey.

So I tried to explain to the doctor that it was truly and for realsies an air-hockey induced injury, while blushing and stammering wildly. He laughed. A lot. So I explained the legless table, the s-t-r-e-t-c-h-i-n-g, the cut-throat competition, etc. He laughed harder--the kind of laugh that makes grown men wipe their eyes. So I said, "I knew I should've just said I was swinging naked from the chandelier," which made him laugh even harder, probably because he treats my husband too.

Long story short, I have problems with my hamstrings and/or my sacroiliac joint for which I have to take an anti inflammatory do lots of exercises which require me to twist into bizarre poses and postures involving my butt being up in the air. So I told the doctor, "Well, great. That's how I got into this mess in the first place."

On my way out he was waving good-bye with one hand and wiping his tears with the other. He called out, "Tell your husband, 'Good job.' I'll never look at air hockey the same way again."

Sheesh. Men.