I have been flat out for the last few days, not because I have had soo much to do but because I haven’t been able to do any of it.
Every couple of years since I was a young woman – yeh I know, a fucking long time! I have trouble walking. I reckon it is my body’s way of making me practice being a truly old person, so that, at least is comforting. I start with a niggly pain across my back which I always ignore for a day or so then I notice it more cos I start walking with a stoop, so I take a couple of anti-inflamatories. I know this isn’t going to work, but I take ‘em anyway, and then about 3 days later I just can’t get out of bed and admit defeat and head off to the Physio.
For all these years I have done the same thing. 2 visits to the physio is all it usually takes to put things right, so I do not understand why I am just bloody stubborn about going. Yeh it hurts a little, but some of the treatment is actually pleasant and I know it will mean I can move like a not yet really old person, very soon. I can’t remember a time when the pain just mysteriously up and left of its own accord.
So this is my rest day from the physio and tomorrow should see me just about normal – whatever that is.
The thing that does change is the physio. For a good long time they were all older than me, mostly men and I spent time wondering how much their shoes might cost as I put my heads into the hole on the table. Then they were about my age and we’d discuss careers and family. Yesterday I discovered that my bloke Geoff had retired and so I saw the delightful Nadia. She is a lovely slip of a girl, about 11 I reckon, but she knows her stuff and has strong hands and I enjoyed her banter about moving from the country to the big smoke here on the Goldie.
Tomorrow I should be walking tall – well as tall as a now shorter than average woman. I used to be average height but that too has changed. Ho hum