Yesterday was my first day at Physical therapy. I am psyched. I walk in with my gym gear and my Nike's. In my mind I am ready for a marathon. I look around and feel very comforted, it is a small rehab place, with a lay out much like a gym, except there are no intimidating gym people around. It really is it's own quite little world. I like it.
I meet my therapist who has also had back surgery , and she is back to running now. Great inspiration. We go through a series of tests to see where I am at and she gives me a few little teenie weenie crunches to do, a few tiny pelvic lifting type exercises. In my mind 'I am yelling, is that all you got????'
The scary thing is on her planet, they have very good psychic abilities, and she says to me that we need to start small to get big. She encourages me that I will be back on the treadmill soon.
I wait outside for the insignificant other to pick me up, and it starts to hit. All the little tiny exercises send muscle spasms to my back, my butt, my hips, and I want to cry.
Suddenly, the marathon runner in my brain goes to despair, anger, and frustration. The next day I am unable to move, and feel like a complete loser, and I didn't even get to use any cool gym equipment. So I pop some pain pills, feel the need to listen to pink Floyd, and fall into my percocet haze where everything is alright...for about 45 minutes until it wears off.
I, the great Almighty Heidi, will pull through, but will be pissed off the whole way though since I have no patience...and I am just pissed off at this whole thing, instead of accepting it, and allowing myself to go 'through it'"
Ok, just had to vent for the day.
The Almighty Heidi, who will soon regain her powers and cynical attitude towards men again...Soon.
( I don't think I have done my regular dose of male bashing recently, I will have to do that soon, as I have much new material)