The worst part of yesterday was hurting my back. I’m not sure how I did it. It’s possible I overdid it at the gym before work. Could have been reaching for something on my desk with these Hobbit arms. Or maybe it was just a random poke reminding me that I’m no Spring chicken.
I first felt it trying to put a client’s shoes back on after removing them to check his ankle movement. I was on a joint visit with a collegue, an occupational therapist to boot, who suggested jokingly that like most of the kids today, I had been spoiled by velcro. Almost. My feet are child-sized but I wear a ladies 6 in an effort to make my feet appear more adult below Chidren’s Place yoga pants. Essentially, I can slip my too-big shoes on without having to untie and re-tie the laces.
It’s been almost 35 years of back-breaking work but knock wood, it’s been over 8 months since I’ve had to pay a visit to Doctor Andre, my go-to person. Yesterday’s pain was located around my left sacro-iliac joint, radiating through my left muffin top. Today, it’s much better. Doctor Andre will have to wait. Phew!
The best part of yesterday was when that same colleague confessed to me, in the elevator on the way down to the lobby, that prior to our visit, she’d been ready to pack this job in but that our mutual visit had inspired her to stay on. Thank goodness ‘cause this OT is brilliant and the universe needs her brilliance.
On January 3rd, 2020, I will have worked 35 years in public health care. I could retire but I won’t. Not yet anyway. I’m not ready. And I am too attached to the people I work with Monday to Friday.
Instead, there will be cake, for the whole team, with gratitude, for inspiring me to stick around for all these years.