I have seen the face of God!

He is my new chiropractor who, henceforth, will be referred to as God! And, might I add, not only for his chiropractic skills... if you get my drift. More on this later.

Where to start? So much to tell, at 5:05 a.m. EST, and it's only just the start of day 4 of my vacation....

1. Tennis:

I hit with Scott, the head pro at the club that I am considering joining (it's a bit weird that we have the same name) on Tuesday and Thursday morning. All things considered, it went much better than expected, and though I was a step (or two... ok three damnit...) slow and definately favouring my right quad, I hit some damn fine balls. Who knows, maybe this tired, battered, old body has some game left in it after all? And, though I am stiff as a board this morning, I'm not feeling 'injured' (thanks be to God).

As it turns out, I did recognize Scott from past tennis adventures who, besides being a tennis pro, is also a marathon runner. Coincidence? Not a chance. Moreover, it is Scott who referred me to God.

2. ART and God:

In the context of explaining my tennis goals to Scott, it was necessary for me to tell him the very sad tale of my injury prone, wannabe marathon runner's life. Bless him, he didn't laugh once and seemed to take me quite seriously. I asked him if he knew anyone who might be able to shed some fresh light on my physical ailments as I wasn't feeling particularly confident that my present physiotherapist really had a grasp on it. (I admit here to my own negligence in not doing my core strengthening exercises) . In reply, after telling me that his favourite physio guy had just left the city, he recalled how God had previously performed a diagnostic miracle on his wife (a personal trainer at the club) and promised to get me a phone number after our hit.

As soon as I got home, I called to make an appointment with God for 12:00 noon on Thursday (yesterday). I was however, told by an assistant that if I didn't show up until 12:15 p.m. that would be fine as God runs perpetually late. Given that I have a thing about being late for anything, against the advice I was give, I showed up on time. I sat there until 12:30 p.m.

At 12:30 I was greeting by two guys whose names I totally missed because I was stupefied by their physical beauty. What I did get, was that neither of them were actually God. I know it is wrong to drool over medical professionals... but what can I say. The one guy introduced himself as God's assistant and referred to the other as a student and he asked if I had any issues with that. I wanted to say that I would feel better if the student took all of his clothes off ... "No, of course not I replied."

So, feeling totally old, ugly and too physically inadequate to live in their presence, I gave my history to the assistant with the hunky student observing. I'm then asked to change into my shorts to prepare for God's arrival on the scene. Shorts? What shorts? It never occured to me that I would need shorts to see a chiropractor.... I thought that I was doing well, having remembered to wear decent underwear (probably TMI, but I prefer commando whenever possible). In response, the hunky student volunteers to get me a pair of paper shorts... that's right folks... paper shorts. I wanted to die.

[Memo to self - pitch this story as the plot line for a cheesy porn flick....]

By this point, it is approaching 1:00 p.m. and I've changed into the said paper shorts, dreading the return of the assistant and the hunky student. I hadn't yet laid my eyes on God.

Then, HE entered.

I was speechless. Utterly.

"Hi, I'm Mike he says."

OK, just not fair. I swear, he renders Brad Pitt into the category of merely ordinary. And, he totally strikes me as being that ever so rare type of heterosexual (nothing uber nor metro about them) man that are so comfortable with their sexuality that it would simply never occur to them to be threatened by a gay man.

But lest you think me shallow, it is not for this reason that I refer to Mike as God.

To make a longish story shorter, he read my history and then proceeded to dig his thumb into my groin (he laughed as I tried to stifle my scream in response to the pain) while the hunky student was instructed to bend and stretch my right leg. I hear him telling the hunky student that as the result of his experience, he can make an educated guess at a diagnosis just from the history of the patient.

Apparently, he can. After he stopped pressing his thumb into my groin, he lifted my right leg and demonstrated that once again, I had almost full mobility with next to no pain. This is why I refer to him as God.

By this point it is well after 1:00 p.m. I note that our treatment is interrupted several times to allow him to answer this Blackberry in an attempt to set up a treatment with one of the Toronto Blue Jays who he refers to as... are you ready for this ... Dude ...

Finally, God tells me that I need to book two follow-up appointments for each of the next two weeks. When I tell the assistant this for booking purposes, she laughed. Laughed. Then with a very straight face she told me that I could only have one; in a tone of voice suggesting that only if I were one of the Blue Jays, might I get two appointments. Finally, she allowed that she could fit me in on Tuesday between the two others that she had already squeezed in between two others...... My appointment is officially 11:50 a.m. I have been instructed to bring a book.

3. Yoga Massage:

Fuck me, Toronto has over 4 million people. The gay rag lists as many as 20 registered massage therapists. Could I find even one who would even answer the telephone much less have any short notice availability. Please. Now you've got to know that due to my very stressed out work life, I am walking around with my shoulders scrunched up to me ears....

So, I called on this highly recommended guy who has advertised for years and, though not an RMT, claims some form of certification (this is the advertising category between RMT and erotic butt work ... don't ask....). At first, I could only get his voice mail but at least he called me back. He said he only had one appointment available for the entire week which I booked. He practices something that he calls yoga massage.

Now, I have had deep tissue massage before and I have been stretched out by the best... but I have never been stretched out during, and as part of, a deep deep deep tissue massage. This guy was practically on top of me, pulling and pushing and kneading.

Very quietly and calmly, he encouraged me to breathe deep and to let out sound on the exhale .... he asked me to trust in his hands and really feel 'the work'... allow the stress to be released from your body, he whispered ... well, I don't mind telling you that I was moaning and very nearly in tears by the end of it but OMG, it felt good. I booked the one and only appointment he had left for next week.

So, life is good. I attended the ballet on Wednesday night (Romeo and Juliet) and today is a dear friend's birthday. As soon as I finish with this post (which has taken far too long to write) I will need to start fretting about my dinner party tomorrow night. Apparently, post Easter one cannot buy a spiral cut ham-on-the-bone in the city of Toronto. What, am I supposed to go out and kill a pig myself?

Anyway, I have to end the post here. More next week.

Have a great weekend everyone!