Saturday, March 7, 2015

Dear Diary 03/06/2015

Dear Diary,

I don't think anyone really reads this blog unless they *really* know me or trip over it while scanning for something to read in general on Blogger being nosy and peaking into others lives or even living vicariously through them, so here it goes.

Yesterday was the last day of my physical therapy. It was twelve sessions of a routine structured by my physical therapist in order to gain back the flexibility and strength in my left wrist. My left hand is still weaker than the right one, always has been, but I've got full flexibility and can move with no pain which were the main goals.

So along with doing this routine, I have unexpectedly been getting to know my physical therapist.

On the first day, he seemed excited that he met me... a woman who was around the same general age he was and he started to talk about moving to Irvine and how bad-bad-bad the traffic is driving around LA. And then, whether he realized it or not, he insulted me and my decisions about morality. "What in the hell...", and "Where does he get off...", was the running through my mind as I was hooked up to the electric muscle stimulator/ice pack wrap for the next 20 minutes. I couldn't just walk out, I didn't want to create a scene in the therapy room by ripping off the pack and electrodes as I already did that online by writing a bitchy review on Yelp.com about deceitful practices, wait times and patient privacy in the clinic. In my mind, I knew I had a finite time for therapy and then I wouldn't have to deal with Mr. Insensitive ever again.

Most of the time when there were other patients in the PT room, I'd just sign in and do this routine: stretch on the tabletop both ways, twist the red rubber rod both ways, exercise my fingers to gain strength with devices that look like clothes pins, wrist rolls with 1 and then 2 lbs weights (100 reps each way, front, back, and vertical), wall push-ups, picking up and putting down a weighted wooden box, then 10 minutes on full body cycle. After other patients left, he'd talk to me more and more.

And like I stated before, yesterday, was the last day of therapy. He talked about his HAMP refinance, his interest rate, his sister, his parents, his friends marriage and how his wife doesn't cook or clean, snow in Utah, San Francisco, Texas, the bonus money he got by working in Texas, taxes and deductions, eventually moving to Seattle, his parents and the fact that he's working on Torrance per diem this weekend. I'm not a psychologist, I'm a human. If people feel the need to talk to me, I'm a good listener. I'm not sure if it sunk in that I'm not going to be coming to therapy anymore with this guy. I asked for a printout reflecting that I went to all of my therapy session so show my employer. And we said our goodbyes and he said he would see me on the 17th when I have my appointment with the Ortho doctor, which confused me. I asked if he'll be at the appointment, and he said he's be here.

With all of these discussions, I feel like I'm getting sized up for a bigger role in his life as though he he's interested in me and wants more than just the therapist/patient relationship, but hasn't directly expressed this to me. Why do guys send out signals like this?


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