Massage anyone?

7 Dec

Physical therapy started again today.  They have found a new way to torture me.

A massage.

I’d always heard how great massages were.  They must have lied to me.  I can’t imagine experiencing that kind of agony over a large portion of my body, as the only part getting massaged was the back of my upper arm.  I thought I was going to cry or jump up and jerk away.  Nothing could help me disconnect from my arm during the experience, which seemed to last for hours.

How could anything hurt like that without anything penetrating my skin?

Don’t get me wrong, I really LIKE my therapist, and she is one of the people on my “medical team” that I have the most faith in.  I think she is beyond good, for what she does, she is a true artist.   Physical therapy isn’t chemistry, it truly is an art form.  There are a lot of things to be considered beyond the desired results and the original reason for the therapy, everything from age to personality of the patient.  I consider my landing under her care to truly be fortune.

Today though, I considered her to be truly sadistic as she delivered absolute agony to my arm.  I hope it helped with something, because that kind of pain without a pay off is really not going to be a popular thing with me.  She seemed satisfied, and I’m glad at least one of us was.

I still think back to what seemed like an eternity, and was probably no more than 5-10 minutes at the most.  I don’t know why the pain was so intense, or what it means, or even what the massage was supposed to accomplish.  Sometimes, I have to just chalk things up to faith and have faith in what she is doing and why.  So far, my faith has not seemed to be misplaced.  I actually feel like the therapy is helping, but I’m also impatient–I really want the pain to stop and I really want to be able to do things like I used to…and I want it NOW.

Patience is a virtue, I know.  Just sometimes, my bucket of patience isn’t running over–it’s entirely dry!


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