physical therapy. aka hell

i’ve made a number of failed attempts to take back some aspects of my life that i lost a long time ago.

once upon a time, i was a pretty epic halfback on the soccer field. i ran like the wind. once upon a time, a little bit later than this, i had a lot stolen from me without apology. and despite having all manner of medical practitioners’ opinions, alternative treatment modalities, and shovels full of drugs thrown my way, i never got it back. all the king’s horses and all the king’s men, and what have you. the false hope (oh and working my ass off in a shitty retail job to afford the medical treatment, so i could physically tolerate the work i had to do to pay for said medical treatment) assailed my spirit and the conveniently prescribed drugs were probably the wrong way to cope with it. the “passage of time” – aka wait it out- method wasn’t particularly helpful either.

and so on several occasions in the last however many years, i said fuck this, i’m going to try running again. on the same number of occasions, i finally admitted defeat because it sucks to try to go about life in that kind of pain and quite simply, i don’t wanna do it again. i had also carefully tracked down my medical records and discovered that most of my practitioners effectively washed their hands of me very early on, citing that i did not want to improve. (alright, i was an angry and headstrong young person but to think i preferred to live in that hell is mystifying.) highly discouraging.

but then there is the physical therapist i met a few months ago. and she was great so i thought i’d give it another shot. i have some additional pressure, the job i want to have next is contingent on me meeting some physical requirements.

let me tell you. reversing almost half a lifetime worth of structural problems is difficult. and it involves a lot of new pains when i had already figured out the workarounds to keep the comfort level acceptably high. but my PT tells me we can do this if i can work through the temporary soreness. and she doesn’t wash her hands of me because i have a bad week or don’t make as much progress as i’d hoped.

don’t call me optimistic, but i’ll give it a try.