You lose some, you win some
I mentioned yesterday that I had made an appointment with a local physiotherapist.
It was a spur of the moment thing where I literally just picked up the phone and dialed. I had never had any dealings with physiotherapy before, apart from hospitals where they just tend to do the absolute minimum and if you’re lucky you’ll get a photocopied sheet of paper with a couple of illustrations on it.
Anyhows I went down at the appointed hour and met my therapist Ciara. She was bright and breezy and sat me down for a quick chat. I told her exactly what had happened to me in the hospital and how I couldn’t move my head any more.
She took me through a few tests, which I failed miserably. I couldn’t do any of the arm movements she suggested.
She lay me on a couch and put me through the same tests. I did them all without the slightest bother. This kid knows her stuff! So am I destined to spend the rest of my days on a couch if I want to do anything? Apparently not.
She then got to work on the muscles in my neck. It was fucking sore I will admit, but I could feel a difference. She explained all about major muscles and minor muscles and I pretended to understand. I didn’t care. Something was happening and it felt good.
At the end of the session I made an appointment for a week’s time and left. Already I’m looking forward to the next session.
On the way back to the car I passed the coffee shop. Naturally I called in as some of the gang was there. I sat. I ordered coffee. I chatted. And then I realised – the day before, I had tried the same thing and was in fucking agony to the point where I just had to leave. But here I was, chatting away and feeling great. Yes, the pains were there but they were more than bearable.
Next thing, a few more of the gang arrived. Apparently the phone calls had gone out – “He’s here!”.
So we sat out on the covered terrace in the usual spot. The sun shone, and occasionally the heavens opened in a downpour. It could hardly have been more pleasant. I stayed far longer than normal and was absolutely fine. In fact I felt great. That coffee shop is a thousand times more than a coffee shop. It’s a true social hub and a lifeline for the lonely and the not so lonely.
Last night I slept in my armchair which I have taken to doing. It’s very comfortable and less painful than the bed.
I slept for nearly twelve hours.
That is wonderful news! It’s so good to hear you had an all around great day for a change. You deserve it. Hope the success with the PT continues.
Perhaps the coffee shop should have been part of your rehabilitation plan and put on prescription so you don’t have to pay for anything. Anywhere is better than hospital.
I would agree entirely. The coffee shop does for the head what the hospital tries to do to the body. Hospital leaves me wrecked, coffee shop puts me at peace.
Now that’s good news indeed and with more visits to your physiotherapist it can only get better. And tell Ciara I love her name. Also tell her I’m an old married cuss so she’ll know I mean it.
A nice name, a nice girl, and she is a Wicklow lass. What more could I ask for?
Chuffed to Naafi break for you matey!!! Keep up the grand work, as ever prayers and thoughts x
Excellent news!
Always good to be pushed and pulled by an attractive young lady!
I never said she was attractive. The fact that she is is irrelevant. Sort of. *cough*
If your physiotherapist had been a large ugly bloke with muscles in his spit, I suspect you wouldn’t be feeling quite so positive about it all. Glad it’s her.
Maybe he just identifies as an attractive young thing?
So pleased to read that you’ve had some fun and friendship, well deserved after what you been through.