My appointment with New Physical Therapist is today.
The first appointment is a consultation, but it will probably involve a mini-treatment also.
Of course, as soon as he touches me, my nerves will freak-the-hell out because that is what they do.
Touch me, and my nerves SCREAM for days on end.
Dr. Painless is the only person I know who has ever understood why my arm does this – and he really does understand what causes it. (He’s even explained it to me.) I suppose that’s why he went to 400 years of medical school. He’s a Fucked-Up Nerve Specialist. In fact, Dr. Painless rarely touches me – other than frequent (extremely careful) hugs which he doles out a lot. He only touches my arm/shoulder if it’s absolutely necessary (sometimes it is) because he knows if he does I’ll be over the edge for days.
Thank goodness there’s at least one person who understands the nature of my Fucked-Up Nerves.
(Because, guess what? No one else does.)
I use bad language when I’m in a lot of pain.
Have you noticed?
(Hi Mom – thanks for mailing me home-baked Christmas cookies! They arrived last night. They were the nicest thing in my yesterday. I promise I’ll try to clean up my language and be a lady next week!)
When we talked on the phone, New Physical Therapist was stunned when I answered his inquiry.
“EIGHT? Did you say you’ve had EIGHT surgeries?”
He doesn’t even know I’m bionic yet.
Wait till I wow him with my several-foot-long wires, big honkin’ battery, metal plates, titanium screws, and electrodes.
He’ll be charmed, I’m sure.
What guy wouldn’t be?
Hey baby, run your hands up my waist and feel those wires under my skin!
I’m supposed to wear a tank top to physical therapy. (All the better to feel me up, right?)
I have to admit though -
I’m really scared to go to this appointment …
I’m afraid of more pain -
Is “more pain” even possible after the last week?
My past experience has taught me, physical therapy = more pain.
I’m also concerned about spending all of my life at physical therapy.
(I’ve already given four of the last five years to the Physical Therapy Gods … does it have to be a life sentence?)
I suppose, perhaps, it does.
Yesterday, I just fell apart for no reason.
(Well, to be honest, I’ve actually got several pretty damn good reasons.)
Those of you who know me, know I rarely cry.
It’s a big deal when I do.
I was just driving along and the pain was so bad -
I just can’t take it anymore flashed through my brain.
The pain has been unrelenting for so many days now.
There’s been no break, no breathing room -
There’s only so much pain a person can take.
I guess I reached my breaking point.
When you feel like you’ll do anything to make pain stop … or even ease up -
Well, you WILL do anything.
And so today -
Today, I’ll go to my appointment even though I’m (really) afraid.