"Never a lip is curved with pain
That can't be kissed into smiles again."
--Bret Harte"Bullshit. Kiss this!"
--Salamander
I thought Bret Harte was supposed to have hung out with Mark Twain. If so, none of that wonderful acerbic wit rubbed off.
I got to see my physical therapist this morning. Let's call him Adonis. Just because. Hey there's no law that says the therapist can't be easy on the eyes. He's got really nice upper arms. I'm a sucker for guys who manage to build up their arms and backs while managing to retain a neck that fits into normal shirts. To say more might make the Socialist jealous, and I don't want him thinking I'm going to physical therapy just because of ... you know ... that.
But I'm allowing myself to get sidetracked. I got to see Adonis this morning. It was mostly a "get acquainted" session, with plenty of paperwork to fill out and symptoms to discuss. He did a pretty full neurological examination on my neck and arm. No real surprises there, except that there is a huge delay between manipulating some of the trigger points for pain and me actually feeling pain.
Adonis then performed about fifteen minutes of manual traction on my neck. After the first five minutes I once again knew the meaning of bliss. After about ten minutes I was trying to surreptitiously check his ring finger to see if there was a band there. About fifteen minutes of traction, I wasn't too sure I cared any more about his marital status. I was absolutely pain free. After two weeks of more or less unrelenting pain, all I had were two numb fingers. It was like seeing the ground after two weeks of snow. Like seeing the sun after two weeks of rain. Like eating chocolate after two weeks of fasting. The pain free period lasted about an hour and a half.
I'm just pulling stuff together to go and get my taxes done. If I'm going to have to be in pain, I might as well get it over with all at once.
All humor is derived from pain,
ergo nothing in Heaven is funny.
--Mark Twain
THAT'S more like it.