Charley's Horse And Other Medical Adventures

I am totally screwed! Lying on my back, stark naked, staring at the ceiling is how it started. Well, that's not entirely true. I did have a flimsy white sheet covering my lower half.

I was relating a story to my masseuse lady, Sandy, about my irrigation guy, Roger, Roger is quite the character. Sandy was working her magic on my lower legs. Suddenly, the right leg muscle began to tighten. I recognized this as the beginnings of a charley horse. These can be quite painful if you're unfamiliar with them, or even if you are familiar. I remember having my first "horse" attack, as a teenager, while watching a movie in the New Canaan Playhouse. Well, I wasn't so much watching the movie as making out with my girlfriend. Actually, I don't remember any of the movies I "viewed" in that theatre. Although some "movies" were more arousing than others. Those were innocent times. The big decision for the boy was whether to place his arm around the girl. The big decision for the girl was whether to leave it there. While the movie played on, the pain skyrocketed up my leg. I didn't realize what was happening to me. Leaping out of my seat I yelled, "Sweet Jesus!" For this cameo appearance I received a smattering of applause, and a chorus of "Down in front moron!!!"

Meanwhile, back at Sandy's house of pain, my leg felt like it was twisting into a pretzel. My initial reaction was to leap off the table, but this was tempered by the knowledge that my entire wardrobe was neatly folded on a nearby chair. The visual of me dancing around Sandy's office on one leg with "everything" flying around caused me to re-examine my options. Ultimately, I crunched up my face into an origami boulder and toughed it out under that flimsy white sheet. Oh the pains of modesty.

Around this same time period...

My dermatologist, the guy I always meet in my underwear, is named David Jones. For years now I've avoided mentioning anything about where he keeps his locker. My internist's maiden name is Cinderella. Should I be concerned that my medical professionals are all storybook characters?

Dr. Jones recently proscribed a medication for me. I've been suffering from an itchy area on my leg that just won't be scratched away. The medication is called Clobetasol. I've been applying it twice a day for a week and the itching has thankfully relented. When I finally got around to reading the drug information that accompanied the cream, I discovered it is used by females on another body part.

Bottom line: If we were attending a cocktail party, you would not be inaccurate in claiming that I've recently been using a vaginal cream and suffering from cramps.

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