Before I started trying to lift heavy things, I started by trying to lift things. And in the process of lifting things, I pulled my piriformis. What is the piriformis, you ask? It's a small muscle under the gluteal muscles that happens to have a sciatic nerve running through it. In regular terms? It's a tiny-ass muscle in your butt that hurts like a sumbitch if you pull it. And when I pulled mine, it was the biggest, most literal pain in my ass. Never mind how I pulled it, the fact is that I did. As a result, I was walking like a tin man; I had zero mobility in my back and my right leg couldn't swing.
At its worse, I started using a cane to take the weight off that leg. I would like to say that it was the pain in my ass that resulted in my developing a surly attitude, but let's be honest. I was, am, and will always be a bit of an asshole. I think the pain and the cane just gave me a better excuse. This was before I started on the path of giving negative fucks. On a side note, I would walk with the cane and fantasize about tripping people as they were running. Not everyone, just the children. You know the ones. Those kids at a restaurant that scream at such a high pitch that you wonder if you have somehow slipped into hell. And if you have ended up in hell, where are the fucking margaritas? And that's how you know you are not in hell....or at least not the good hell. Think about it...
Over time, I started seeking out ways to stop the pain. I started with pain killers, but they did not work. When I was at a conference, I got absolutely schwasty-facedd asked a buddy of mine to punch me. He looked at me and asked if I wanted to take off my glasses. I told him I don't want to get punched in the face, but that I wanted him to punch me in the ass. After tremendous laughter and ridicule, he finally agreed and slugged me. I should probably elaborate to say that this guy was a BIG boy. He was close to 6 feet tall, well over 200 lbs, and he looked like a bear. I should also state that the punch did nothing. All it did is give me a bruise. So now I had a pulled muscle and a bruised butt cheek. Frustrated, I took several more shots and passed the fuck out.
Flash-forward to physical therapy. After working to develop mobility and stretch, the physical therapist finally said, "I think we need to try the plunger." Now I assumed the plunger was some sort of symbolic name for the new stretch that I was going to learn. I was wrong. I'm laying on my stomach, expecting the PT to try bending my leg in some contorted way, and suddenly he puts a plunger on the table. It was a red plunger, with a white handle. he then asks if he can pull my pants down slightly. At this point I am torn. On the one hand, I am in agony and need the muscle to loosen. On the other hand, it's not everyday that a guy asks to pull down my pants. In this case, agony won out and I slid my pants down slightly. I suddenly feel a gel like material, as he places the plunger right on the piriformis. At this point, I want to refer back to the image of the piriormis, so that everyone is aware of where the plunger was.
And so I am sitting there, with a lubed up plunger stuck to my right butt-cheek, and suddenly, the PT just starts plunging. I honestly cannot adequately describe the sensation, except that he was able to pull the glute muscles up, and thus allowing the piriformis to relax. Shortly after this, my piriformis stopped seizing and I began working towards the powerlifting totals that I mentioned earlier.
Moral of the Story: If your physical therapist recommends sticking a plunger to one of your butt-cheeks, it will resolve the problem. It will also do wonders to help you overcome all of the trust issues that you did not know you have. Oh, and I like to lift heavy.
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