last several days my right elbow's been giving me a lot of grief. it was a strange sort of grief that in no way got in the way of yoga, but has increasingly made me unable to lift a book.
i realised how bad it got when i got tossed a frisbee in studio on tuesday and threw it back in a direction that was somewhat but not entirely arbitrary and resulted in it hitting a window with a terrifying thunk. my classmate shot me a look that made it clear that though i do not aspire to any sort of publicly acknowledged athleticism, throwing a frisbee east, when he was clearly standing west, AND hitting a window, was pathetic. i blamed the elbow.
today the doctor tells me i have tennis elbow. lotions and potions shall be mixed and applied. if they fail, injections will follow.
so not only am i falling apart emotionally, lapsing into a voluble sort of alcoholism (well, short term, anyhow; i've no wish to repeat last night's maudlin performance, you patient little beasts, you), but my body's playing some sort of weird prank on me: i mean, tennis elbow? as far as i know i have never played tennis in my life. not once.
as i told the doctor, flying balls terrify me.