The Pain in My Coccyx is Not in My Head

Written by Dani Alpert / Illustrated by Roger Miller-Kim

When I was in my mid-thirties, I woke up one morning and found it painful to sit. It felt like someone had punched me in the tailbone, or I wiped out on the ice and was bruised. I didn’t remember falling or anyone punching me in my ass. I chalked it up to a gym injury, or maybe I slept in an awkward position. But months passed, and the pain didn’t go away. Sitting was increasingly more difficult.

Different specialists offered possible causes. “External trauma due to a bruise, break, fracture, or dislocation from a fall?” Nope. “Internal trauma like childbirth?” Nope. Another doctor proposed “shingles of the buttocks.” What? I validated my parking ticket at the front desk and ran out of the office. A Beverly Hills plastic surgeon offered to lop off some of my tailbone. “You really don’t need all of it.”

I moved overseas (another story for another time), and one weekend, I took a three-hour bus ride to Český Krumlov, a southern Bohemian region of the Czech Republic. When I saw a male passenger put on a neck brace, I confidently took my rubber donut out of my backpack and inflated it. Blowing it up was a little embarrassing, but my ass appreciated the effort. The pain had gotten so bad that a rubber donut was my constant traveling companion. Sexy.

When I returned to Los Angeles, I had another round of MRIs, x-rays, and a humiliating visit to a neurologist. Because the white lab-coated professionals were stymied, it had to be in my head.

Then, a friend recommended a doctor whose practice consisted of Eastern medicine, and perhaps what might be considered unorthodox or, rather, little-known methods.

He explained what the other white lab-coat-wearing doctors hadn’t. The tailbone has attachments to the pelvic floor muscles, several ligaments, and the coccygeus muscle. These soft tissues are frequent culprits in persistent coccyx pain. He recommended massaging and stretching the pelvic muscles internally.

Yay, and double sexy!

I dragged my mother with me to my first appointment. My mom stood guard as I lay on an exam table, face down, watching Mr. Doctor Man insert his one gloved and lubricated finger inside my anus, and gently apply pressure to the soft tissue around my tailbone. Apparently, I’d been squeezing, tightening, and holding my worries, anxieties, and fear in my ass—like how some clench their jaws.

Ten sessions of internal pelvic massages later, and I was pain-free.

This was written by Dani Alpert, a comedy writer, Pilates instructress, advocate for the Down syndrome community, and author of Hello? Who is This? Margaret?

This was illustrated by by Roger Miller-Kim (@r_edgar_hoover).