My journey as a long distance runner who started the sport later in life.
I now know that the part of physiotherapy I like the least is called, “Transcutaneous Electrical Nerve Stimulation,” or TENS. Anything that can be described as a sensation of “little ants” is hardly likely to be pleasant. As it happens, the effectiveness and/or necessity of this machine as a part of physiotherapy treatments is in question. According to some reasonably reputable medical websites, it works for some and not for others. This makes it sound very worthwhile, no? I also know that it is primarily a pain management technique. If it was doing something more than that for me I might feel better about it, but as long as I don’t bump the fingers or try to do anything fancy (like hold stuff) I am not in pain. I am thinking about asking to terminate that part of my treatment. It makes me dislike the process, and it makes me want to quit physiotherapy.
There is probably a whole psychology behind the mental stages of physiotherapy treatment. It probably reads a lot like some of those popular memes: denial, anger, acceptance…apathy, depression. Wait, those last two are mine. Last night, strapped to the TENS, I was feeling the most low that I have since the accident. A physical setback that renders one partially helpless, an inability to manage moods via running, a colder and rainier than normal spring in northern Mexico; this is a bad recipe.
If the weather could just pull itself together, that would really help a lot. The Mexican sun does wonders for a person’s mood, but what about the running? My hand is still a dead weight that I have to be so careful with. Am I supposed to let the rest of my body atrophy for the sake of a few fingers? Am I supposed to forsake the emotional fortitude that running has helped me to cultivate? I liked who I had become before this accident happened. I am sorry to be losing her again.