A 'me' day gone horribly wrong.

That title is a tiny bit misleading. The day itself was OK, the following days were horrible! It started with me cutting off the long locks that were forming into a disaster on my head. A lovely time with my very pregnant Swedish stylist who told me who was 'good' with short hair so that I'd be OK till she got back from mat. leave. Then I headed off to a massage to deal with some chronic problems with my Achilles injury and neck and shoulders. That's when the trouble started.

I've gone to massage before, but it has mostly been a relaxing type of massage. This time I knew I needed some more serious work, so found a sports massage place that was used to dealing with these injuries. My therapist was this tiny woman with hands of steel. During the massage she was telling me that she used to compete as a gymnast for Canada and had seen some Achilles injuries.

As she was working my Achilles, she made a comment about some atrophied muscle behind the tendon and asked if there complications during my surgery. Besides the fact that I was in a cast for almost 4 months? NO. But it explains some of the other things that have befallen the right side of my body. Sheesh. Then she started working on my back, which she described as feeling like old gum. Let me tell you, it felt good to have it worked out. I could feel it loosening and the pain of the massage was overshadowed by the relief of the muscles relaxing. I was feeling good! Great even! As the massage ended, she told me that I might be a little sore the next day, but just to stretch it out. I could deal with a little sore, heck I've been a little 'sore' for a few years now. A couple of Advil and a heat pack and I'd be good to go.

Lies. All lies. I woke up Saturday morning and within 2 hours I had a raging headache. I went back to bed in order to gather energy for the birthday party I needed to take Bear to in a town an hour away. Mid way through the party which was being held at Chucky Cheese (think 200 screaming kids, lights flashing and a noise level nearing screeching), I started feeling nauseous. I made it through the drive home, gave Bear the Ipad and told her to hang tight till Jeff and Pookie got home. I grabbed a bowl and fell into bed for the next 19 hours. Every time I got up, my head pounded, my muscles and joints hurt and I couldn't focus to hold a decent conversation. During one lucid moment, I googled deep tissue massage side effects and found out what the problem was.

Apparently, when you have a deep tissue massage, all these nasty toxins are released out of your muscles and into your bloodstream. Now these little buggers are so pissed that you evacuated them out of their cozy homes that they attack your whole system to make you sick as a dog. The only way to get them out is to hydrate them out. Drink water, take baths with Epson salts and hold on for dear life. Apparently, those lovely folks at the massage place FORGOT to tell me that crucial piece of information. A "little sore" is a lot different than "wrecked for 3 days".

When I called them today, they were super apologetic but firm in telling me to get my ass back in there for a follow up massage.
So I'm hydrating.

Hydrating like a pregnant woman about to have an ultrasound.