everything you do has consequences

Mary Hopkin’s dad used to say “everything you do has consequences”. At the time I thought he meant “don’t get my daughter pregnant” but now I think his advice was intended more generally.

Since I effed the hip joint a couple of weeks ago, the pain seems to have got steadily worse rather than better, and I feared it was the start of a long slippery slope towards an artificial hip. Because neither the original injury nor the further exacerbations caused immediate pain, I had little insight into what was helping and what was making things worse.

But thanks to the bliss pills, I have been able to apply rational thinking, unhampered by emotional distress. If I asked a doctor, at best they'd suggest a single diagnosis and a single cause. But I can do better than that: knowing that everything has consequences, I have been able to work my way through the events of the last fortnight, and tease out the facts (in italics) of what was going wrong.

During the month of working full-time, I was always too busy or too tired to swim, walk, or do yoga. At the time, I thought to myself “this is unhealthy, but I’m fortunate that I’m getting away with it, with no impact on me”. And then at the end of the month, I did my hip joint.

A couple of days later it got a lot worse, and I now know why. Encouraged by ra juju guru, I decided to try out the elephant sexual position from The Hotel New Hampshire. Well as you know, that pose requires some very extreme hip work, and that must have been what was making my pain worse. Naturally one wouldn't notice the pain during the actual activity itself.

So I gave up tantrism, and things got better for a day or two, before getting worse again. Now I know why.

Because of the chronic tropical ball rash, I always use a hair dryer after showering, prophylactically against the fungus. To do this, I hang off the edge of the bed, with my legs wide open, and direct the hot air to and fro over my pubes. As you do. There were no problems until I got a new bed just after the whole hip thing started. The new bed is much lower than the old one, so when I hang off it with the hairdryer, the legs open slightly wider than usual, and I'm now pretty sure that's been making the injury worse each day.

So all I have to do is find a new way of using the hair dryer, and the hip can start to repair itself. Imagine expecting a doctor to work all that out! It's no wonder they can only reach for the prescription pad.

I'm fortunate: I have no distractions like children or a social life; I'm on the no-worries pills, and I have the Narcissistic Personality Disorder to help me, so I can work this stuff out, but most people don't have these advantages.