Doctor, Doctor, Gimme the News

Sex, even mere hanky-panky, is a workout.

All that squirming and groping and thrusting makes your whole body (if you’re doing it right) tense and flex. Maybe even throb a little.

Injuries can happen in sex. Hell, people die shagging when their hearts give out. From orgasm to aneurysm, just like that.

So it’s important to know what your body can take, and what it can give.

Me, I’m recovering from a sports-related back injury that blew way, way out in October. It’s five months later and I feel it every single day. Life’s tough when you’re rehabbing. Like emotional and spiritual pain, it lessens a little every passing day. But I’m constantly aware of it. Until one day when I won’t be aware of it anymore. I hope that day is soon.

Rehabbing my back is like taking the Dark Arts at Hogwart’s School of Wizardry: Requires constant vigilance.

Sex freaks me out a little. Okay, a lot. The idea of it began being pretty scary a couple days ago, mostly because I’d started really craving a good shagging. And now that I want one, well, I’m a little fixated on getting one.

But I’m not exactly Little Miss Delicate in bed. I’ve had medical professionals describe my approach to my active life, and little do they know but that could sometimes include sex, as kamikaze. Fucking, shagging, making love — they’re all verbs. You’d best be involved. It’s a doing thing.  Get it done. I’m not leaving my orgasm entirely up to him, nor am I leaving his up to him either.

I’m a part of the problem, I’m gonna be a part of the solution. I’m a teamplayer. I’m a keener and a giver. It’s what we do.

Still. Uncertainty has lingered. Can my body take what I’d really like it to be dished? I like some dishing. Whew. An intimidating thing to consider, since I know whereof I speak. I’m prone to err on the side of caution, though, as I’ve spent far too many days in my recent past in varying stages of pain.

I finally decided I had to have a professional opinion. Sex is important to me, I’m tired of being without it, I’d like to have it, and I’m tired of being scared and protecting myself.

So, Friday, I called my physiotherapist’s clinic and left a voicemail before they opened, to the effect of:

“Hi. I need to speak with ___ because I have some concerns about how to proceed with things. Being single, I stopped dating entirely after my back injury, but I’ve kind of met someone and think there’s some potential there, and I’m really concerned about whether sex is safe. If so, in what positions? What should I watch out for? What shouldn’t I do? Sex may not be imminent, but I’d like to know in case something happens. I’m not comfortable having this conversation in your clinic, so if ____ can call me back at his leisure, I’d really appreciate it.”

My physio called me back later in the day.  He first off applauded my calling. He said he himself had had a back injury many years ago and didn’t have the courage to ask then, and it became a real hindrance in his sex life because fear got in the way of things. He then said I absolutely should go to that point, that I may have setbacks, but I can’t live in fear, that I have to — and should — go there eventually, and sooner’s better than later, especially since quality-of-life improvements can speed healing, and because we’re still working together, we can solve any problems that arise during my testing-the-waters stages.

Well, geez, doc, don’t dissuade me here.

In the end, the sexual positions I’m probably quite safe to do far, far outweigh the ones I can’t. In fact, there’s really only a handful of things I shouldn’t do.*

I was very, very relieved after I spoke to my physio. He was terrific and supporting and broke it down enough for me to grasp, asked if I wanted more detail, but I said he didn’t need to go there. In fact, even in regards to the positions I’m saying I “can’t” do, he only said it was “potentially risky”. Still, there’re enough sexual positions available to keep a girl entertained for a few weeks. Goals are a good thing, something to work toward.

I love a worthy ambition. And I’m diligent.

Since that conversation, I’ve had me some lovely making out that could be defined as a, um, dry run — if you’re not too literal about one of those words. It would seem some of the motions required in sex might just be happy-makers for my back. Better yet, I get the sense it may even improve my back.

Suddenly, feeling the fear and doing it anyways is a whole lot more enjoyable a prospect for me.

My point in all this, in case I’m being too subtle? Talk to professionals. In this Wiki-age, everyone seems to think the internet is the be-all end-all of information. When it comes to medical diagnoses and life specifics, the one-size-fits-all advice found on websites (or television, etc) is bullshit.

Including when it’s written by me.

Don’t listen to self-professed web geniuses for whom you have no evidence of credentials. Talk to a medical professional who can actually assess your body or life in the real world.

‘Cos life isn’t one-size-fits-all, people. And knowledge is power.

*I’m not telling you what I can or can’t do because: a) I like some things private. b) Because I don’t want anyone with a low-back injury to think it’s the same approach they should take, because these injuries are VERY case-specific, and you’re a fool not to speak to a professional about your body. You have one body in this life, and your back, for example, is arguably your most important bodypart to keep functioning well. Who should tell you how to proceed — some faceless person on the web, or a medical professional you can sue for malpractice if they fuck you up? Exactly. Pragmatism wins.