All things considered, I am not too unhappy to make the acquaintance of The Piriformis Syndrome. Given I already know Herniated Disc quite well, having married and divorced that asshole about 13 years ago, after a fling with microsurgery, yes, Piriformis Syndrome is not too shabby.
If nothing else, it gives new meaning to having a pain in the ass and/or being a tight ass. And makes me snicker more about the irony of wearing yoga pants labeled Hard Tail. Yes, particularly hard, at right about the center of the left cheek.
I am truly grateful for the ministrations of Dr. Sara yesterday, a sports chiropractor my husband also sees. I was bashful to go there, being of the not-sporty variety, but she was lovely. And worked me. I definitely have bruises on my hip. And am still feeling the fantastic release from the application of the Stim device, crazy electrical stimulation designed to relax that over-active piriformis.
Cheeky little monkey!
It's a relief that it's just that silly muscle and to confirm, for myself, that I know exactly how I did it, through incorrect and overzealous application of the principle of inner spiral. Once I make it 7 days without pain, then I'm cleared to go back to yoga and start over, this time not using my booty to do what my thighs are really supposed to. Hah, more easily said than done.
In the meantime, I'm doing my little stretches and eating Advil and waiting, trying to remain patient with being hurt. And taking advantage of how much blissful time I have at home now that I'm not traipsing to class all over the Bay Area 4-5 times a week. That part's truly great, something I will miss when I am back to my mat, front row and center.
Also gives me time to read "How Yoga Can Wreck Your Body," this New York Times article from last week that has all my yoga friends in a tizzy.
In my Hard Tail pants, snickering.