A Lot Happened

 I mentioned that I am going to physical therapy. I'm at the point now where I no longer feel like vomiting when I leave. I feel a bit drained, but okay. After the last three or so appointments, I've felt well enough to go to the thrift store or the library. When I first started, I would go home and lay still for the rest of the day. I have taken to noticing the other patients. I notice they seem to feel better.

Years ago, I worked for a chiropractor. It was before I got married. Will was going to a chiropractor near his job, and one day he asked Will what he was doing differently because he wasn't nearly as tight. Will proudly boosted that fiancee had magic hands. And that's the story of how I got a job as a massage therapist. 

It was not something I ever thought I would want to do. I don't like people. I don't like strangers touching me. However, I worked with one patient at a time, and I am fine with one on one. I could see patients come in the office obviously in pain, but they left standing up a little straighter. I could see I was helping people and making a difference in their lives. That made me feel good about myself. I felt like I was doing something worthwhile.

I decided to get certified. We were dirt poor then, so we did not have money for classes. The chiropractor was a doctor, not a business man, and I didn't make much money. I probably spent as much as I made or more in gas because his office was a 45 minute drive from my house. Longer when I first started and was still living in Tallapoosa county. The shorter 45 minute drive came when I moved back to Salem. But I was working, and I really liked my job.

Unfortunately. the office manager was the doctor's girlfriend and she did not like other women working in the office with her man. She found a reason to fire me. I gave up on becoming certified. Eventually, the girlfriend nearly drove the chiropractor's practice into the ground and he broke up with her.

I went to the chiropractor for treatment after the accident because I knew he could help me. He asked me several times to come back to work for him. I said I would think about it. I decided to wait until everything was settled with the accident. I wasn't sure how it would look, going back to work so soon, or how credible the doctor would be in court if I was his employee again. 

When I started physical therapy, my goal was to feel better. I have pain every day and I'm really sick of it. I was not expecting a miracle; I just wanted to move a little better, not struggle to clean the house, not ache after sitting at the sewing machine.

I do feel better. I'm not pain free, but maybe I never will be. 

I am 47 years old. I was unsure about starting another career at the age of 50. I wasn't sure if it made sense to spend money on classes just to work 15 years, then be at retirement age. 

Will thinks it's a great idea.

My cousin, already in her fifties, pointed out that the house and cars are paid for, so now I'm at the age of working because I like the job, not because I need to pay bills. I hadn't thought of it that way. 

I started researching schools. 

We'll see how it goes.

Blessed be, my dears. Stay safe and well.