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My dental hygienist and I have a special relationship. We meet every four months or so for a one-hour "getting to know my teeth" session. The first 10 minutes or so are spent catching up on events in each other's lives since our last meeting and reviewing recent dental charts. After that, the back of the dental chair is lowered to a horizontal position and, for the next 45 minutes, conversation tends to be severely restricted, she in her facial mask and goggles, and I with a gurgling suction tube dangling from the corner of my gaping mouth.
At the end of the session, I am typically rewarded with a mouthful of sickly tasting oral rinse, a new toothbrush and a tiny container of dental floss to add to my collection. This is usually accompanied by a gentle reminder always to ensure that I brush with a circular motion right to the gum line, and a recommendation to invest in an electric toothbrush.
All of this played out as usual on a Friday morning a couple of years ago. Later that day, as I strolled along the waterfront savouring the late-afternoon sun and the squeaky-clean feeling as I ran my tongue over my newly polished teeth, I felt a twinge of pain in my upper right leg. It came and went a few times, but then seemed to disappear.
The next morning I rose with definite discomfort in my right leg, which increased as soon as I put weight on it. Saturday night, in spite of swallowing some expired painkillers dug out from the recesses of my medicine cabinet, I spent a restless night. By Sunday evening, the shooting pain in my leg had become unbearable, and at 11 p.m. I phoned for a taxi to take me to emergency. There I was eventually checked by a physician, given painkillers and anti-inflammatory pills, and dispatched home in another taxi with the pain still in evidence.
After two more visits to my doctor, more pills and several bouts of physiotherapy, a picture began to emerge. Apparently, I had fallen victim to Fat Wallet Syndrome (sometimes referred to as Hip Pocket Syndrome, or Walletosis).
You see, for as long as I could remember, I'd always carried my wallet in my right hip pocket. Furthermore, as wallets go, mine borders on obese. Not because of a surfeit of money, mind you: Apart from a modest clutch of $10 and $20 bills, the contents typically comprise 18 plastic cards of various descriptions, a few assorted business cards, receipts for purchases (some several weeks old), a shopping list, scraps of paper with scribbled notes, telephone numbers and the inevitable To Do list.
For some 45 minutes I had lain flat on my back, muscles tensed, fingernails gripping the sides of the dental chair, with my wallet pressed deep into my right buttock. The pressure had apparently inflamed a broad sheath of muscle, the piriformis, that runs from my sacrum to the top of my right thigh bone. This muscle in turn irritated the sciatic nerve, which runs down the back of the leg.
I was off work for about two weeks while I hobbled around with a cane. I was also forced to cancel a planned three-week trip to Europe to visit relatives and attend a niece's wedding. Fortunately, after six weeks, the condition resolved and my life soon returned to normal.
Later, I was astonished to learn that two million Americans suffer from some form of Piriformis Syndrome. Most are male, and of those many are victims of Walletosis.
The recommended cure is a radical Walletectomy. In my case, this involved transferring my wallet from my right hip pocket to my right trouser pocket. I have also done some judicious and long-overdue pruning of the contents. Gone are the cancelled bus tickets, postage stamps, gas station receipts, scribbled reminders and outdated To Do lists. Some seldom-used plastic cards have been removed and stored in a drawer.
Evidently, this particular medical condition deserves better recognition. I recently discussed the phenomenon with two ergonomists. These are professionals who, among other activities, analyze the optimal postures for office workers who spend long hours slouched in front of computer terminals. While experts on carpal tunnel syndrome, eye strain and muscular discomfort in neck and back, neither appeared to be familiar with Fat Wallet Syndrome.
Their rhyming cousins, the economists, on the other hand are well aware that, in times of economic recession, consumers tend to sit on their wallets when they should be out spending their money to improve the economy. This is an unhealthy practice that is demonstrably bad for the nation's business and can lead to fiscal sciatica.
The moral of the story seems to be this: If in future you have the good fortune to find yourself sitting on a pile of cash, make sure it's not all stuffed into your hip pocket!
Oh … and don't forget to brush those teeth right down to the gum line.
John K. Nixon lives in West Vancouver.