I am not trying a cheap pot-shot at the classic 1970s anthem sung by Helen Reddy, but I do believe a little change in the wording would explain my experience at work therapy today. And - with no strong language attached!
Let me set the scene. As mentioned before, this is my fourth back injury in five-plus years at the airport. It's pretty much down to a science, even with two years separating these incidents, that I know what the stretch and therapy routines are like, and in what order to take them. Grudgingly, my back will end up cooperating and I'll be back at work, at worst, in two weeks.
This time, the old routine is not working. It started as a dull pain in the small of the back, near the spine. Through therapy, the pain has worked itself to the left hip, and today's appointment was one of embarassment. I'm ashamed to admit of suffering setbacks in treatment, but if they occur, they must be mentioned.
You would think the therapist would be on the same page. Not a snowball's chance. Approach him with a concern and he shrugs it off. Get over-exerted and need to catch your breath, he'll say "you're not tired, c'mon!" Find out that you can't touch your toes or bend over fully, he'll tell you "you're not trying hard enough!" Tell him that you lost sleep for half the night because your back pain flared up, and then his favorite saying comes out: "Oh, come off it!"
I see it like this. If he's trying to imply that I'm lazy & going through the motions on this therapy, he's disguising it poorly, because I'm all too aware of his message. My focus was on trying to do the stretches, and have everything go in one ear & out the other whenever he opened his mouth.
A stand had to be took this time, however, as I didn't want him to end up telling the insurance company that I made a false injury claim. But the pain was real, and how will that let me resume my work & home activities?
Finally, I roared. I told him I wasn't any better no matter what he thought; that the exercises were straining the injury more, and that if I really didn't want to go back to work, I would have quit and saved everyone this hassle.
Boy, did he change his tune. "Well, maybe we ought to give you another week of therapy," and "You did well today." Now I think we're finally on the same page to where future sessions will be a little easier to deal with on a mental basis.
It's a shame I had to compromise my personality and spout off where, in normal instances, I wouldn't have to. But the little guy always has to speak his piece in order to be seen.
I was "found" today, and I'm sure my back will be thanking me.
