I have one strike left and this week will be counted among the worst weeks I’ve had in a while. School is going fine; it’s the after school stuff that is frustrating right now.
I have been wanting to take yoga classes since I was a freshman in college. I was always too shy to do so, though, because of various insecurities. So I never did. I’ve thought about yoga, read up on stances and practices, and have dreamed about being a yoga-master. In August, I read that one of the local adult education programs is offering a beginner’s yoga class. Great! thought I and I sent in the registration form immediately. I waited for six weeks for the class, bought my mat and block, and began reading up on some of the beginning stances to get ready for class. Two weeks ago I drove to the neighboring town for the first class, waited in the room for twenty minutes wondering what was going on since no one else showed up, and then went to the adult ed office. Come to find out, the class had been postponed for two weeks because their minimum enrollment had not been met. They waited to see if anyone else would sign up. Yesterday, I got home from work all excited after a very long day (staff meeting and then an SAT Prep Training organization meeting – more on this soon!) knowing that after my stressful day I’d be going off to yoga to relax, meditate and get some exercise. WRONG. I called to be sure the class was on and this time it was cancelled and I was told my refund is in the mail. What a major let down. I’m really bummed about it.
And then today was a good day at school. No big meetings, no major behavior problems with the students, no major failures with lessons. It was a good day. And I was looking forward to a good visit to an orthopedic surgeon I’d been waiting to see for a month, no, correct that, five years.
Back in 2003 I fell and hurt my shoulder, and this is after a history of dislocations. I saw a doctor, got x-rays and a MRI, began therapy, was told I needed surgery, and then lost my insurance. I’ve been waiting five years for resolution on this issue. Every day for five years, my shoulder has been achey, if not outright painful. I have limited motion and use. Sometimes I’ll pick up a medium-sized hard cover book and I’ll get shooting pain and I’ll be incapacitated for a few days. Running makes it ache something fierce.
I was looking to the surgeon to offer me relief in the form of knowledge of the issue and a plan for care. Instead, I got incredulous looks when I said I dislocated it three times growing up (didn’t see any supporting damage on the five-year-old x-rays), and was told that the tear was teeny and the previous surgeon’s suggestion to get it operated on right was jumping the gun a little. He essentially told me that he couldn’t do anything for me and to kindly leave so he could go to his meeting he was late for because he saw me 45 minutes late (I was there 20 minutes early).
So, I’m totally okay with the surgeon being honest with me about the situation. That’s his job. But not offering any suggestions on courses to take for resolution, rushing me in and out in about 10 minutes, and not asking questions about the effects of this injury on my activities and other probing questions made me feel like he didn’t see any need for me to be there and that I was wasting his time. He made me feel like I was lying about my previous injuries and care. He made me feel like there was no hope of ever having full use of my arm again.
Let me repeat, it’s been five years since I could reach for a glass in a cupboard at eye level without pain, on the days that I’m able to do so.
I’m very frustrated. I’m very hurt. I’m very let down.
This appointment was a gateway for me. I’ve been channeling all my pain towards this day, saying that once I see the surgeon I’ll get better, I’ll be fixed. And not having that right now really hurts.
Everything comes in threes. What will strike three be?