I had my third appointment this morning, early -- it should take about 45 minutes to drive to the clinic, but at departure time from home a combination of construction and collisions had almost cut off our little subdivision for the Outer World. Physio-gal got to the "traction" part this morning (we are rehabilitating a rotator cuff -- mine), bless her heart -- this seems to consist in tucking my arm under hers and then walking away with it in various directions. In the process we learned that I do not understand or, obviously, comply with the suggestion to "relax." Not me. Nossir. Clenching and gnashing have got me through the first 60+ years, why would I want to learn some newfangled thing like relaxing??
The ferocious green rubber-tubing for exercise against resistance has been replaced by the feebler red rubber-tubing, good news!
And it seems to be an OK plan to accept one of the kind offers from parishioners to loan a tens-machine for the duration. On the other hand, or with the other hand, I suppose I could also just stick a fork in the toaster, mmmmmmm, tingly goodness.
Came out of the clinic to find all the women's groups in the north end of Prairie Metropolis had bazaar stalls set up in the mall...including the women's groups of not one but two Anglican parishes...wearing the clerical collar means purchasing pies, under these circumstances.
And finally a late breakfast in a low-end department store diner...bacon and eggs, and seniors' conversation flowing all around and over me.