emotional overload, again

I started outpatient physical therapy to help strengthen and balance my back and legs after my surgery. I knew this was likely to trigger flashbacks from teenage PT, me learning to walk again after my first surgery. And it did. It was hard, but I think I managed well. I made sure I had a female therapist when I made the appointment to decrease my anxiety about someone touching me. I kept myself grounded by telling myself the year, that I am a mom, listing things I could make for lunch.
Session went well, whenever I was triggered, I just brought myself back and instead of telling myself I am a stupid freak, I told myself it was understandable this situation was triggering.

Big trigger when she videotaped me walking. Teen PT did that with me in a swimsuit. Teen lawyers did that to prove my freakyness for AF’s malpractice suit against my surgeon. Both were horrible, humiliating times I was not in control and no one could help me. But some breathing and grounding got me through it. I know she noticed something wrong, but I think she thought I was embarrassed, tired from our workout, but not triggered. She assured me my face would not be in the video, only legs for gait analysis, and that it will help her design my care plan.

She was completely awesome. This PT lady was smart, had empathy, had no trouble with my questions or my special requests.

Near the end of the hour, we started discussing how my leg previously never had any muscle retention. That I worked furiously each day to keep it from sliding backwards, yet I woke up each morning weaker again, no growth, no tone, because of improper nerve signals.

She tested my spatial recognition, my proprioreceptors by forcing me to look away and keep my hands off my leg during the motions. It feels wrong, and a bit dizzying, but if I concentrate, I can do this. This is new from the recent surgery decompressing the spinal nerves. 

PT lady said with this, it is possible that new muscle can now be rebuilt, actual progress and forward potential after being stuck for 27 years. I am still too afraid to hope for this, even though I am already seeing small gains since the surgery. Seeing should be believing, but I know too much that seeing can be deceptive also.

Hope for someone like me, does not come easily, and has a huge cost when things don’t work out. So I remain safely curious. Curiosity keeps me moving and trying – without fear of devastation.

Except I felt a little hope with her words. No matter how much I tried not to.

Then I felt foolish and afraid for feeling hope.

Then I wanted to share my hope with my mom.

That’s when I brokedown. Too much. I made it to my car and cried. Oh mom, how much I wanted to share GOOD news with you….no matter how troubled our past, I do know the pain you felt when I was paralyzed. I somehow thought this news might heal some of that pain, bring us closer. Perhaps not, but I will never know. Just know I forgive your mistreatment of me when I could not walk, I think you did your best to cope and only had denial. 

So I started PT, had several flashbacks, remained grounded while being touched, let myself feel some hope by accident, and I missed my mom.

A full day…all in an hour.

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