This week was supposed to be physiotherapy discharge week. But my body made other plans. It thought: why should the emotions have all the fun, why can’t the muscles get in on the pain? Really, body? First the left shoulder knotted up, then the midback (thoracic spine) fired off trigger points like some little boy who got into the Canada Day fireworks, then the right shoulder rose up and up while the laser and then the physiotherapist were working on my neck and shoulders and began watching it perform this miracle of tension — even while I was lying down. Sigh. And so after the emergency physiotherapy, there was no time for a discharge assessment.
I suppose if I had been able to have a session or seven with my neurodoc, my body would’ve stayed calm and not become so freaking tender. But all physicians in Ontario are busy up the wazoo, and neuropsychiatrists are a rarer breed and so much harder to see, even after you get in and have established a regular frequency of visits.
After having your muscles and joints seen to, after having your brain stimulated, after processing emotions on your own, and having limited access to the brain doc, all that’s left is Nature. Rhythmic water, shady trees, expansive grass, green plants, showy flowers: whichever appeals, they all soothe the senses and speak peace to the soul. Maybe psychotherapists and psychologists should set up shop in the park. Instant reduction in stress!
