Jekyll and Hyde

I know I should be working and not writing this, but I can’t concentrate. Why can’t I concentrate? Because I’m sitting upright. I know, strange right? Usually, you can find me hunched over my desk or slumped in my chair, butt glued firmly in a non-running friendly pose. So you’re sitting upright and now you can’t concentrate. What’s the correlation? The correlation has something to do with a young lady who, at first glance seems kind and serene, but is, upon closer inspection, a sadistic slave master who delights in other’s suffering. I’ll tell you how I came to know this Dr Jekyll and Miss Hyde person.
You’ll remember that I’m injured. I know, I’m always injured. But seriously. I’m injured. Injured to the point of not being able to walk down stairs or bend down to pick up my grandson or anything normal people with normal knees are able to do. And what have I been doing about this injury? Well I’m running less. I’m walking instead of running, but I’m not walking with any amount of commitment or enthusiasm. And I’m complaining a lot. My colleague told me to go get my injury sorted because I was a grump as a result of not running.  I think Illuminati Michelle got tired of my complaining and she scheduled a course for her and I and a few others with a biokineticist. She’s recently had hamstring issues and has also been walking…a lot so the course would be good for both of us. If the truth be told, I think she just gets a kick out of seeing me suffer.
In parallel to this, I went to see Francis, my other physio. She sent me for x-rays and it turns out I’m old and there are signs that I’m getting osteo arthritis. Can you believe that? How disgusting! If that weren’t enough, I noticed that my eyesight was blurry when I was reading something on my phone on the weekend. How could this be happening to me? Francis gave me an exercise that is so difficult to do, I wept when I attempted them in her rooms. She stopped only marginally short of telling me to stop whining like a Stuart Hodge  drama student.  Since then, I’ve been weeping without an audience every night in my bedroom while attempting these awful exercises.
Illuminati Michelle set up the course for Monday mornings at 6am and Friday afternoons at 5.30pm. Well that’s how my brain heard it anyway. So on Thursday evening, I packed my bags for the next day very excited to be attending my first biokinetics class the next afternoon. I was tired so I went to bed early and thought I could get a good night’s rest in and get to work early. I set my alarm for 5am, all set to get to work early. I snoozed it. And I snoozed it again. I snoozed my second alarm too. And I snoozed that a second time too. And then my phone rang. I work in the type of job that might attract a 5.38ish phone call and so I sat up and answered the phone trying to sound coherent.
Hello. It’s Brenda speaking.
The voice on the other end whispered, Brenda where are you?
I beg your pardon?
Where are you? You have class.
Who is this?
It’s Michelle.
What class?
Class?
But that’s only tonight?
No. It’s now.
But you told me 5.30pm.
No. It’s 5.30am.
……………long pause. Okay, well start without me. I’m on my way.
I got dressed (In the clothes that were packed in the bag) and made it to class which is normally 15 minutes away from my house in the space of 10 minutes. I walked in to the class, still asleep, greeted everyone embarrassed and sat down and started doing whatever I was told to do. The nice lady on the mat next to me was trying to help, but I was so fast asleep and my being untimely plucked from my slumber, was starting to manifest as irritation. My self-preservation lobe in my brain was not yet awake and so I simply did whatever I was told. I smiled politely at everyone when I left and went back home to shower and start the day over. About 15 minutes into my drive to work, I woke up. I woke up and realized that my abs were on fire. In fact, I had difficulty even reaching for my gear lever. Oh my word!! What had I just done to myself?
The rest of the weekend I spent feeling like I was strapped into a corset of Elizabethan proportions. I couldn’t cough. I couldn’t bend. I couldn’t stabilize myself in a vehicle without groaning. I sneezed and yelped only 4 times. After that I determined I should simply stop breathing through my nose so that I wouldn’t sneeze. The amount of pain I was in, I fully expected to see a chiseled 6 pack of bricks staring back at me from the mirror. Alas, a 6 pack of muffins is still attached to my abdomen, reminding me of how far I have to go.
And now it’s Monday and 6am has come and gone and I’ve experienced Fatima in all her Jekyll and Hydeishness. And this time, sadly, I was fully conscious. She laughed at least 3 times at my suffering. Thankfully, Illuminati Michelle was also in pain. After one of the exercises, Michelle asked, “What muscle is this supposed to be working, because everything’s on fire?” Fatima Hyde laughed at that. Fatima Jekyll asked “Are you okay?” several times, but I got that feeling she was only asking that because of some kind of professional legal obligation rather than having any sort of compassion for my pallid complexion and my watering eyes. I became a clock watcher. I couldn’t wait for 6.45 to appear on the clock. This was torture. I’ve been punched in the ribs and I’m sure my spine is bruised. A rabid dog has taken a bite out of my right butt and there is a furnace smoldering in both my calf muscles. I’m not entirely sure if I’m starving hungry or if this is just a muscle that is attempting to leave my abdomen.
Friday is coming and I don’t think I can face this. I may accidentally amputate my toe so that I don’t have to face Jekyll and Hyde again on Friday.  I have, however, been able to walk down stairs today without pain for the first time in about 3 months. I am sitting upright without much effort and I can feel that I’m standing up straighter. Nice. This Jekyll and Hyde thing might be working. All the complaining wasn’t. So maybe I’ll just brave it one more time on Friday and then stop torturing myself.
Yours in the love of ……look, I’m struggling to find the joy in this, but I’m sure its coming. I’m liking going down stairs at least.

Slow Coach.