press harder ·
6 October 10

So I went into my first day of physiotherapy. The last time I visited it felt shallow and hollow, and I was given a second opinion stating that the examination they did was inadequate and I should demand better. That was what made me think “this is shallow, hollow, pointless”.

This time was almost as bad, though to be honest. I mean firstly the waiting around was annoying. My time was up to get checked, but they still had a slew of aching folks, mostly pensioners from the looks of it. What was worse was that they were all dying from some respiratory disease because none could stop coughing. TO make things worse, these fuckers were NOT COVERING THEIR MOUTHS! Fucking disgusting; what pit of piss were these dying fogies born from. It was fucking horrible. I didn’t know what to do, so I pussyed out and did nothing. Fucking score one for the pussy!!

OK there was also one schizophrenic I think (me excluded) or at least some form of OCD. He kept yacking and putting his fingers in his mouth, sometimes turning his hand in a fist and then trying to shove that in his mouth. He kept touching his coffee/tea cup, like it was going to run away or it needed care and attention. I didn’t dislike this guy actually, in fact I envied him that he had something to preoccupy himself with and not feel socially aware of his surroundings. He was in his own world, and it seemed a lot more interesting than the one I was in.

So I tried to kill time by using my iPhone 4. Except the hospital I was in had no wifi or 3g network, or EDGE. Instead I got the bane of mobile networks in the form of GPRS. Horrible shit, piece of shit didn’t even connect 99% of the time, and if it did get to a website it would promptly disconnect and have to reload. It was a fucking nightmare.

I assumed the hospital being a hospital and not a computer shop would have wifi for all their shit, but I guess that’s not secure especially with such sensitive information. Still, it sucked that there was no way to kill time on my phone, except to play crappy flash games on it. I mean come on, even games like Street Fighter 4 play crappy on the iphone since it has no buttons or stick to control, it’s awful.

Anyway I eventually got called, and left the dying, which also included the staff. Did it not bother anyone else, that wasn’t coughing, including OCD/Schizoid, that all this was going on and not one disgusting fucking piece of crap covered their mouths to avoid spreading the fucking germs around. It was like a coughing party – “Come one, Come all – Cough out your guts and have them nestle into someone else’s lungs. Free of charge!”

I was taken to the same place I was last time, and was being assessed by a tall black guy, who looked more like a security guard than anyone in physiotherapy. His choice of attire puzzled me, because I kept thinking “Why am I being interviewed by a security guard?” He had that ribbed, tight black turtleneck, black trousers, shaved head, polished black shoes. He was more than presentable, but I didn’t think to ask why he was dressed the way he was. Maybe he was part time?

So he asked me a string of questions did a sort of physical while I had my clothes on, and made notes. I was told the girl I was supposed to see wasn’t around, so I had him instead. I didn’t even get his name, I just answered questions and shit. It felt as bad as the previous visit, and I thought “I’‘m not going to get any serious help from these guys”.

After which he then told me to keep my clothes on, and to lie down on my stomach, and he would do a basic examination. This is where it got interesting, because the fucker was trying to snap my back. I told him the pain was at the base end of my lower back, so he started to go from the top to the bottom.

But it was not gentle. He placed his thumbs at the top of the base, then using his thumbs on top of each other, he pressed down very firmly, and asked me where I could feel the pain. He did this all the way through for a few minutes from top to bottom, and it hurt like fucking crazy, like he was forcing my spine to split, or distort. I guess this is how he deals with thugs when he moonlights as a security guard.

I had to hold my tongue, and of course I wasn’t confident enough to yelp in pain to indicate whatever the fuck he was doing was causing some intense pain. Even now I can feel the “bruising” that he gave me, and the pain that is associated with it.

Back home, it’s reduced in pain, but I feel disjointed. That’s what you get for having a security guard as your physiotherapist.