That's my new word for today. My chiropractor taught it to me.
Actually, he poked and prodded my popliteus as part of my treatment today. First time anyone ever has, as far as I can recall.
I laughed. He got a puzzled look on his face and asked, "That doesn't tickle, does it?"
"No," I said. "It hurts!"
After six months, he is still sometimes unsure when I break out laughing whether it is due to tickling or pain. He should know by now... It's pain. He's never tickled me, not even unintentionally. It's always pain. It's a reflex reaction ... one I have grown accustomed to over these months of physical treatments of various sorts on my knee.
"What is that?" I asked, immediately following it up with, "I mean, what's it called?"
"It's your popliteus."
"Sounds Greek," I mused, trying to distract my brain from the pain it was registering by partaking in one of my favorite sports: guessing the origins of new words.
"It may be... I took a Latin and Greek medical terminology course as part of my degree. I think you might be right. I don't think it's Latin." He replied back, as he actively released the popliteus itself.
He noticed that the distraction was useful though and continued, "In the U.S. they say it 'pop-lit-EE-us'. But in England, they would say 'pop-LIT-ee-us'. I guess in Canada, we would go either way."
As my brain was focussing on the placement of the word stress, he quickly finished up.
So let me ask you this: Do you know where YOUR popliteus is today?
I for one, am well aware exactly where mine is...