thebibliosphere:

Seen as how you all keep asking:

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“Ah, there you are.” *clapping his hands together* “Are we ready to suffer?”

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“Well your rib cage isn’t doing that thing, so that’s good. Lets see what else we can find.”

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“Oh dear.”

*

“This is going to feel like I’m triggering a migraine. And that’s because I am. Don’t worry, it’ll all be over quickly.”

*

“Yes, that was rather ominous wasn’t it?”

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“My that’s a lot of glitter.”

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“I get a lot of people coming in and telling me their pelvis is
misaligned. It’s something their chiropractor said in
passing once and it takes over their whole mentality. “No I can’t
possibly stretch or do that, I have a misalignment”, when what
they actually have are too tight muscles and not enough exercise. You
however, actually have a pelvic misalignment, it’s why your body is
turning inward like that. And I’ll be honest, last week when I noticed
it, I was hesitant to tell you. Because for so many people it’s just the
end of their recovery in terms of how they think of themselves. You
however, my dear, took it as an insult from your pelvic bone, and asked
what you needed to do to fix it. You’re angry, but in an entirely
motivated and driven sense. It’s like zen but on the other side. Keeping
that in mind, this is about to really hurt.“

*

“Everyone keeps laughing at me because I have to ice my hands after you leave, but honestly I’ve handled more pliant wood in my time. Okay stop laughing, you’re undoing all my hard work.”

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“How is your blog by the way?”

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“Oh, good.”

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“Well, I’m glad to hear that. Especially from someone who
bruises easily. I try very hard not to cause surface damage where I can
avoid it. I have one client…fuck, I hope nothing happens to her on
her way home. She’s got my thumbprints all over her neck.”

(Responding
to a comment I made about how I’m amazed how sore I am after our
sessions, but never actually bruised. Whereas usually I’m just bruised
but not actually sore in like, a good “this is helping” way.)

*

(One of the other therapists watching from the next table over makes a comment about how she didn’t think my back was that bad.)

“And that is why she’s seeing me now, and not you. Go on, shoo. Get back to your corner.”

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“My other client is coming back at his regular time next week, so short of shanking him for this time slot I think we’ll need to move you later in the evening, if you’re okay with that.”

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“You’re shaking, are you okay? Okay, just let me know. Actually, no, lets get some water.”

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“Okay, we’re going to do some work on the tensor fasciae latae. Yes I know it sounds like a Starbucks order, but bear with me.”

*

(Him, going really quiet for a short while after I tell him about always being in pain for as long as I can remember and how hard it is to get a doctor to listen to me.)

“So, my mother,” *clearing his throat* “my mother was in pain for forty, gosh, probably closer to fifty years, and she never told anyone. She never … well she never complained. Not once, even when she’d go to bed early just so none of us would hear her cry. And I never knew, I never knew till—well I started taking this massage class, for like, for fucking fun, right? And I winded up using her as my practice patient, and I realized … I realized something was wrong. And I saw the pain she was in, the pain that she hid for the longest time, and it just … No one should suffer alone like that. It changed the course of my whole life. And here we are twenty years on … anyway. Yea. I believe you. I believe you …”

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*him, tucking his arm underneath mine and using it to brace me while he digs his other elbow in*

“Yes, it is rather like being a muppet. If muppets were made of crackling bone and sinew. Lets be thankful they’re not.”

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[part 1] [part 2]