"Ice, Ice, Maybe"

I am the least creative person I know.

When I think I know a topic, I jump into my favorite tire track or rut, and I'm off to the races. I'm sure to wear blinders, too, so that nothing and no one can persuade me to the contrary. Far be it from me to seek input or to consult anyone more experienced than I. No, no, no! It is my way or the highway, baby. Put the bit between my teeth and ride me to the finish line.

I am easily amused. I am easily distracted. Today, I spent my first-hour shoveling snow from the driveway with my sixteen-year-old son. It was pre-dawn, 5:40 to 6:40. He beat me to the shower, so I used shampoo and the kitchen sink to make my hair semi-presentable. I'm grateful that he showers, and I'm glad I'd already brushed my teeth. I'd forgotten to grab a towel, so I dried my hair with my shirt and took another from the clean laundry table next to the kitchen. Then I fed the dog, threw my work lunch together, and shuffled to my car with barely ample time to drive to my physical therapy appointment.

Shelby, my PT, arrived moments after I did. Honestly, I felt better about breaking two or three traffic laws (speeding, rolling through stop signs, failing to use turn signals) knowing she wasn't waiting for me, not that driving 28 in a 25 zone is that terrible, or almost stopping on a snowy incline should count as stopping because you might never get going again. Self-justification is a game we all play skillfully.

As Shelby got me started on the recumbent bike, I managed to get us laughing about some inane meme I saw on social media. Whenever she wasn't instructing me about the next movement or exercise, we were chuckling about one comment or another, until she made me do something that rediscovered the inflammation I was there to get repaired. A sharp intake of breath later, and we were back to jokes or instructions. Then my time was up for the visit, and I was back in my car to go to work. No more speeding, no more fun. Driving to Charleston had begun. Tedious and mundane, that's the way, to make my hilarity go away.

I told you: easily amused and easily distracted. I pondered how my windshield washer fluid could be full yet not spurt when called upon, while my windscreen became filthier with each passing mile. I considered with gratitude that the sun rose higher in the sky behind me, and I would not have to contend with it shining through the muck in front of me. And then I arrived at work and stopped thinking about it. I had just enough time to visit the locker room and put my work clothes on before my first class was scheduled to begin. I also took a few moments to swallow 2,000mg of Tylenol for the impending pain from physical therapy while reminding myself of Shelby's homework for me to "ice, ice, baby" when I get home from work. No, that's not how she said it.

She definitely located pain outside the bounds of what I'm being treated by her for, however. You see, I've been referred to her office for back and leg pains associated with a car collision in which my very stationery (or is it stationary?)--it was not moving, not that it was being written on and mailed--car was rear-ended by a driver who was following me too closely and who was following the video on her phone too closely. However, two weeks after that collision, my workplace failed to shovel the parking lot after a snowstorm, and I slipped and fell there, causing more damage to my back in areas of my back not injured in the car collision. Today, Shelby discovered pain in my back associated with the slip-and-fall, in addition to the car collision pain. SO, I'm curious to know if I can get physical therapy as part of my worker compensation claim, and IF SO, can I get it at the same office I'm already going to, BECAUSE that would kill two birds with one stone, as it were, allowing me to use the worker compensation claim to cover the time off I have to take for PT, thus recovering the time off to use at some other time... OOOORRRRR maybe not.

What I definitely know after typing all this is: My back hurts more now than it did this morning, and when I get home, I need to "ice, ice, baby."