Pain in the butt

Last Saturday, as I was hitting mile 15 of my 17-mile run I felt a sharp pain in my behind (right side). I ran through it and eventually it subsided, but it came back to haunt me Saturday night and has been with me - though lessening each day - since. I was supposed to have run yesterday but I took the day off and went to see the orthopedist. The good news is that I don't have sciatica, which was my main fear. The doctor said that I either have an inflammation where my spine meets my pelvis (the scroiliac joint) or else tendinitis of one of the many muscles that comprise the human rear. He prescribed some anti-inflammatory drugs and I am to not run for one week, though I can continue Pilates and swimming. If the pain has subsided, I am good to start training again in a week, but if not I have to go in for an MRI and follow-up.

The anti-inflammatories that I was prescribed consist of an injection to jump-start the process and some twice-daily pills that I am to take for a week. As I sat waiting to have the injection at the end of my appointment, my doctor informed me that actually I should buy the shot at the drugstore. As visions of Dave getting his payback in the form of my turn at an at-home injection began to swim in my head, the doctor reassured me by saying that I could have the shot administered at the pharmacy (he also chuckled when I told him that I gave Dave all his shots at home for his DVT, "why didn't you just get it done at the pharmacy..." who knew).

I arrived at Raia, my favorite neighborhood "drogaria," slightly nervous but ready to have my shot so Dave and I could go to dinner. After paying for the medication, the woman behind the prescription counter who was to give me my shot asked if another woman could come with us to observe for training purposes to which I agreed. Dave came with me as I was ushered into a small white-walled room at the back of the store. I sat in the only chair in the room for what seemed like forever as the woman meticulously washed her hands, donned rubber gloves, and began unwrapping the syringe. Dave was doing his best to keep me distracted, but I just wanted to get it over with and go eat. When she was finally ready, I took a deep breath and held out my arm (closing my eyes and clutching Dave's arm with my free hand). Then the drugstore woman said something in Portuguese which I didn't catch. "The shot goes in your butt," Dave translated. I stood, unbuttoning my jeans, still in disbelief as the woman positioned me against the wall, my nose almost touching the cold white tile. As my breathing accelerated and as Dave and the "trainee" woman looked on, I felt the alcohol swab and then the painful prick of the needle, just inches above the source of the pain for which this was the treatment.

Yes, last night was a night of many firsts for me here in Brazil. As I sat in the car ride home from the drugstore, still in shock, my rear sore in a second place, my only hope was that it would also be a night of lasts.