Mischief and Belly Button Stones … (The Come Back Story)

Writing about something so personal is much harder than I thought it would be.  It's hard to stay detached from something I've purposely mentally moved away from so I wouldn't feel the hardship. I don't want to spend a minute of my time thinking about it.  For the past 10 years my mind has been focused on moving forward.  Recovering.  Living.   Being whole not just mentally & spiritually, but physically as well.

 I WANT the whole package, and I INSIST that I have it.  That is why I pushed myself to move when my body wanted to drop ten years ago, and that is why I push myself to move past this rut now, when my brain is weary & my body is trying to rebel.  Cool thing about today is, I KNOW where to go or what to do now.  I didn't 10 years ago.

They were hard years.  Many of them, piled one on top of another.  From before the medical treatments at the William Hitt Center, and even after.  Despite the difficulty of many of the times I've gone through, I've never looked at it as difficulty, but more as just a part of life I was going through to get to the other side.  I was too focused on bypassing the physical pain and moving my body to a place where life didn't hurt.  I worked at not letting it pull me down, and if it did, I didn't stay there long.

Even during the days I visited poverty I was far richer than some of the people I knew with money.  No matter how hard things were, I was glowing with a spiritual richness money couldn't buy and they didn't understand.

I managed to find my humor and live with the comfort of hope deeply implanted in my heart.  I managed to be a bit of an imp and mischievous even when I could barely walk.

That's where the end of the last story left me.

Unable to walk.

Roll the reels fast forward, jumping through a lot of hoops and through a LOT of hell, enter stage left," Deep."  The most awesome physical therapist a girl could ever dream of.  I inherited him by default and a series of mishaps at the hospital. 

Timing.  Fate.  Divine intervention.

 

The first two physical therapists at the hospital were a definite "no go" for me.   I'd learned to speak up when something wasn't working medically.  I was trying to learn to do it gracefully, without feeling like a squawking duck trying to save it's neck from being a roasted dinner and on a chopping block. 

If you choose to find the best in others, first find it in yourself.

Out of the lack of "a fit" for me, the director of physical therapy took over my case because she liked me, she "got me'" and I made sense to her.  She was awesome.  She had hair that hung below her waist and she was barely five feet tall, but man were her brains full of knowledge!  She was a walking encyclopedia about the body.  I loved her.  I could NOT believe it when the hospital farmed her out to a prison, leaving me without a physical therapist.

I had that moment of dread and numbness, but God and super woman were on my side!  The director of physical therapy hand picked Deep for me.  From the first moment I saw Deep I didn't know whether to have a crush on him or just be grateful that, whether he was a good physical therapist or not, he was oh so easy on the eyes.  Tall, dark, and Indian brown eyed handsome, with a perfect basketball players body.  In one word; YUM.   I may have been in pain, but I was certainly not dead!

I can honestly say without blinking an eye, I would not be walking today if it wasn't for Deep.  I could say it over and over, again and again!!  Shout it from the roof tops, it's just so damn true!  Like Dr. Hitt was a miracle with his medicine, Deep was one big blessing and a miracle in my life and the journey of putting me back together once more.

Because I've had some flare ups recently with my back, I find myself leaning back on EVERYTHING Deep taught me.  You can not imagine just how grateful I am for the relationship I had with him …

"can you write that down, by the time I hit the front door I'm afraid I'll forget it."

 He didn't just nurture my body, he nurtured my mind.

Being serious about recovering and healing didn't keep the impish side of me from surfacing, now and then.  I'll never forget the day I wore a belly button gem to my physical therapy appointment. 

I laid there, all calm and quiet, wondering if Deep would even notice when he discreetly moved my tshirt in that medical neutered sort of way so he could work on the muscles around my left hip. 

Oh,

he noticed all right.  *smiles* 

His jaw dropped open, and … he abruptly had to leave the room.  I had to work SO hard at keeping a poker face after that.    Blame it on the vicodine, blame it on it's just how I'm wired, blame it on blonde. 

Life rarely has a dull moment.  Even when I'm learning to walk.


Day Four #28DayChallenge

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2 responses to “Mischief and Belly Button Stones … (The Come Back Story)

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