Today I went to see a physiotherapist. This was the first time I had ever met one in person. All I knew about physio is what I had seen in movies. You know the ones where they teach people to walk again. And the patient falls down, but the therapist picks them up and yells: “get on the program you little shit!”
So I was not my usual cheerful self , I was uneasy about the session but I wanted to learn more about my limits.
I imagined the therapist would be the size of a gorilla, a large one at that. I thought she would be as soft as a drill sergeant pushing you to climb Everest. When she’d say “jump” I would answer “yes sir!” She would have been trained in a country where a little pain is for sissies so there has to be a ton of pain and tears.
Then a smallish girl, younger than my daughters called my name, I am shaking, the gorilla has an assistant, maybe she is the one that mops the floor after the victim cried so much.
I entered the torture chamber and the girl followed. She smiled and welcomed me in her dungeon. I'm still not sure though, I've seen the transformation of Hulk, anytime now her clothes might just rip apart.
What on earth is going on, she started toPlease forgive me folks, I can't finish this true story right now, my nerves need relaxing. Tomorrow, I'll tell you all about my visit.
interrogate me asked me questions, so far NO pain. She seems to know so much, I'm starting to feel less scared. BEWARE my mind is warning me. I looked around the room, there is a bed, her desk, a couple of chairs,
but this is not a room for torture. Sneaky devils, I am not going to
fall for this one, I'm sure anytime soon, she is going to get one of the
tools of her trade: pliers, hammers, nail gun, long needles, whatever.