"The Ocean's Just A Wetter Version Of The Sky" or "My Paintful Afternoon"

I'm not sure how many of you diligent, faithful readers have ever had to experience the true joy and rapture of physical therapy, but I have a new-found sympathy for you if you have. This afternoon was the most physically painful hour of my entire life, at least that I can remember, and I have to go through it twice a week. I don't know how I'll be able to.

This afternoon, while this perky little cheerleader-type named Christiana*COUGH*Mengele*COUGH* started sending electric shocks through my leg to contract the muscles, while I had to lift my knee in the air and hold it, I spent most of the hour in tears. She insisted that the girl next to me, who had almost identical stitches on her knee, was going through the exact same thing I was and she was fine. This other girl, who had injured her knee while running track, so had a little bit better muscles to begin with, is sitting over doing her exercises like she's in a day spa. By the end of the electro-therapy, I craved my life be snuffed out by a gracious and merciful God. Kindly Christina then proceeded to stretch and bend my poor, eroded tissue every way she could discover, no matter my protests. She kept saying I should have taken a Lortab beforehand which, yes, I should have, but I had to drive there and I had class all day and I couldnt' go around doped up all day. Also, I didn't realize I was going to spend this hour in a goddamned torture chamber, lady. Shut up.

The worst part about this situation is that it was one, silly second of poor judgment horsing around a friend, and now this injury is completely in control of my life. I can't even get to my apartment, and although the kind folks at Gribbin House have taken me in as they have so many times in the past, I know they're sick of me. I am shirking responsibilities left and right, without the ability to walk more than a few yards at a time, I'm late for all my classes, can't help with Obama, can't make it to my Apwonjo commitments, and I can't go to work. And God knows with gas driving more since I can't walk, and copays and prescription refills I need the money and I can't go. I'm not finishing work, I'm not making it at all.

I feel kind of alone in all this. Alone in someone else's house. A house that stays cold.

I really just wish this was over. I've never wanted to crawl in a hole and ignore the world for a month so bad in my life. I just want it to be over. Over. Over.

<3gen