What happens when you mix a crazy woman like me, hydrotherapy (which sounds like a spa treatment but, unfortunately for me, it is just physiotherapy done in a swimming pool) and the funniest hospital staff in the world? I tell you what happens: the most hilarious, hysterically comical shoulder rehabilitation session in the world. I’m still laughing 24 hours later!
How on Earth I ended up floating in a swimming pool singing Nicki Minaj’s “Starships” (uuuuh I love Nicki Minaj), pretending to be in a beautiful beach at the Bahamas rather than at a therapy session?
My shoulder has been quite bad for a week up till last Tuesday, the kind of “forget about sleeping” and “it reminds me of all the championships Sebastian Vettel lost so far with Ferrari” that has seriously taken a massive toll on my physical and mental health. When I saw my physiotherapist on Tuesday, I almost begged her to rip my shoulder off for good – fuck it, let’s finish this torture right now! Luckily, she is not as drama queen as me, and after she did her massaging and stuff, she referred me to hydrotherapy to help me loosen my shoulder up and get a better range of movements in. I didn’t take the news gladly: physiotherapy is a pain in the ass as it stands, even though my physiotherapist is amazing, and I love her dearly, let alone having to do it in a swimming pool! Having sad that, at this point in time anything will do to speed up this bloody recovery, so I booked my appointment without moaning and there I was, bathing suit in my bag, ready for this new experience.
I woke up in quite the good mood yesterday and I decided to pretend I was heading to a 5-star resort at the Bahamas rather than at the hospital for physiotherapy. I arrived at the physiotherapy department with my sunglasses on and my scarf on my shoulder like if it was a beach towel, and I gave the receptionist a big, big smile; she knows how crazy I am, so she wasn’t surprised when I said to her “hi I’m here for my spa retreat at 11:00, I hope my pink flamingo is already inflated because I don’t like to wait”. My physiotherapist was there and she facepalmed herself, shaking her head. Then the receptionist asked me if I knew that the hydrotherapy sessions are open for both men and women, and whether I had a problem in case I had to be in the same pool with a man. What a stupid thing to ask, I thought: of course I don’t have a problem, I don’t give a remote fuck about who’s in the pool with me! Men, women, aliens, dogs, cats, zombies, Satan… I’m there to fix my shoulder, I don’t care who’s fixing their bits with me, I could be surrounded by a crowd the size of Queen Live at Wembley 1986 all staring at me whilst the physiotherapist makes me sing Radio Gaga and still, I would not care! There is nothing in a male or female body I haven’t seen by now and, since we will all be in bathing suits, there won’t be anything flashing anyway so come on guys!
Anyway, my turn came, and I strolled like a very happy child to the pool, annoying the hell out of the therapist about how disappointed I was about the absence of the very important inflatable pink flamingo that I was sure would have a negative impact on my recovery. I changed in my bathing suit and there I was, in a warm and super nice pool, thinking “actually, this is not that bad… not that bad at all!!!”. Do you think I stopped being silly just because I was loving it? Of course not! Every movement was a reason to say something humorous, such as:
“ok now pretend that you are a ballerina, extend the arm and then bring it back close to your body”
“mmm I have a better version: grab the prosecco – drink the prosecco – refill the prosecco – drink the prosecco”
“…. (facepalm) ok… as long as you do it I suppose!”
The best bit of the session was the last movement, because the physiotherapist put inflatables everywhere on me so that I was lying on my back, blissfully floating and staring out of the windows. I kid you not, I really felt like at the Bahamas (that is, before I had to move my arm and then I felt less happy and relaxed). I told the physiotherapist “I am channelling my own inner pink inflatable flamingo here, don’t fish me out of this pool for the next hour or two” and yes , as I said at the beginning of this entry, I started singing Nicki Minaj’s “Starships”, without a single care in the world but to move my arm. Unfortunately, I had to eventually get out of there and finish the session, head for a shower and terminate the party
I was having in my head.
Let me tell you something: as fun and hilarious my session was, I never felt so tired and drained in my entire life. I got out of the pool and my arm felt weighting 50kg all of the sudden. It was great and a wonderful confidence-boosting session, since I was able to move my arm in ways I have never been able to in a very long time, but fuck me, once I was out and about, I could hardly walk without feeling wobbly and dizzy. I had to spend more than half an hour at the hospital reception, sipping cups of teas with tons of sugar, to be just barely able to entertain the idea of heading back home. It felt like I just came out of an Iron Man Challenge training session, even my abs were hurting! Seriously, I was so fucked up I thought I was about to throw up my breakfast at each step I made towards the train station, and when I had to wait ten, eternal minutes for my train back home, I thought “if I close my eyes now, I’m doomed”.
I had to do something to recover enough to be able to get home without fainting on the street, and so I took the executive decision to have lunch at one of my favourite Italian restaurants near where I live. This place is a little gem, one of those places where, if you don’t know how good it is, you would never, ever dine there. From the outside it looks like one of those cheap, unappealing take-away places that don’t exactly scream “our food is healthy, cooked respecting all hygiene regulations and it tastes divine”. However, if you move past the exterior look, you are in for a very special treat: the food is out of this world, the service is just right and the whole place has a very family-like vibe to it. I had the most amazing pasta dish with homemade sausages, and suddenly all my energies came back at once (carb overload yeah!).
Today I woke up exactly like after one of my personal training sessions at the gym: my shoulder was quite upset (“how dare you moved me like that bitch!!!”), so I had to take few paracetamols to be able to entertain the idea of getting out of bed and going to work. Next session will be on Tuesday, and till then I will try to keep moving and take care of my shoulder the best I can. I can’t wait to do it all over again!!!