It Hurts to Laugh

I'm learning to cope with the results of my abdominal surgery, but it's been over two months and, with various developments along the way, I've had setbacks.  I promise not to go into too many details -- I don't want to gross you out anymore than I want to gross myself out.

But a few days ago, I saw the doctor in charge of radiation -- a charming man from Long Island, and thankfully somewhat mature.  Well, during the session to set up the X-ray machine and my position thereunder for precisely targeting the area to be radiated, the doctor instructed me to raise  my legs straight up and bring them back down on a pad that would become a form to insure my position will be the same during each treatment.

Well, I did something stupid.  Which is not unusual for me -- and I'm still paying for it.  I locked my knees and ankles and lifted both legs at the same time -- even pointed my toes -- in what synchronized swimmers call a "double ballet leg." 

The doctor and the technician were drop-jawed!  I used to do this as a standard part of my conditioning until a few years ago. But I'll be 70 in about two weeks.  I should have known better.  I have muscles protesting that had nothing to do with post-op.

I think I'll finally have to start acting my age.