|Photo by Boemski|
Yes, please ask me how badass I felt sitting there explaining my two injuries as "over-exuberant gardening" and "old bookstore injury". I thought about making something up, but I didn't manage to put the finishing touches on my Merchant Marines story before my first appointment.
|Photo by Tangled Frog|
So I was there on Tuesday. It was crowded. I was sitting with ice strapped around my left bicep and heat laid over my right shoulder, reading The Genie of Sutton Place because I can only read small, light books during treatment, and I was looking for this because it's a Newbery book, but saw The Genie and realized I haven't read it since I was about ten, even though it's one of the awesomest things I've ever read, so I took that instead.
I was startled from my reading by a gruff, old man's voice booming "This must be a miserable place to work!" Someone asked him why he would say that, and he bellowed "No one's smiling!"
My first thought was Dude, why would anyone be smiling? This is the opposite of fun.
Then I looked around. Across the aisle from me was an extremely fit-looking woman with a perfectly cut bob, lying on her stomach with suction cups on her back. Beside me was a teen-ager in booty shorts (said without disapproval - if I looked like that in booty shorts I would be sitting here typing this wearing booty shorts) with acupuncture needles in her lower back, texting on her phone. From behind a curtain, I could see a strong-looking physio guy with a shaved head massaging someone's foot. Suddenly it seemed like this sweet, tender tableau of human bodily frailty. We were all there, alive, trying to feel better, headed in the right direction.
|Photo by エン バルドマン|
And at that moment, everyone was smiling.