She walks out into the waiting area and calls my name.
I look up to see who is calling me and I am stunned.
I don’t answer until we make eye contact and then like a bumbling teenager I simply nod my head.
She stands there smiling at me, gesturing me to get up and follow her.
Finally, I get up and follow her. It was then that I notice how her long, curly hair gently cascades around her face. Wow, I think to myself, she is beautiful. Not a second after that thought has registered in my mind I knew that I was in trouble and should be very scared.
Because it’s nature.
Whether it’s the simple beauty of the hour glass on the black widow or brilliant beauty of the ricin producing Castor plant.
With beauty comes danger, shit even death.
The beautiful one leading me into the physical therapy office is, you guessed it, my physical therapy assistant.
The 45 minute session she administers seems like it takes 3 hours. I am convinced that the beautiful one’s last job found her stationed at Guantanamo Bay as an interrogation specialist . I did notice this weird slanted table in her office with a couple of jugs of water next to it. When I asked her about it she quickly changed the topic to my leg. It was then that I knew I’d have to keep my eye on her.
With glee she put me through a range of exercises that while I am sure are necessary, were also the source of great discomfort. Trust me, not once did she ever see me show any hint of discomfort. Damn, it was everything I could do to not tell her my bank account numbers and secret passwords, never mind the location of the WMD’s in Iraq. The beautiful one is good, real good at causing pain.
It was a pain session that would have made even James Bond wince. But not me – nope, no way.
I kept repeating, “no pain, no gain. It’s a mantra I’ve been repeating for months now. No way am I going to allow the beautiful one to think she’s causing pain. No way.
After finishing the beautiful one comes over to me and with righteous pozitoodinal energy reminds me that we have another session on Thursday that will include walking without any crutches. Internally I wince, externally I smile and say, “great.”
I grab my coat and I am heading for the door when the beautiful one calls my name again and says with a smile, “don’t be late, I get mad when people are late and you wouldn’t like me when I am mad.”
I nod again and make my way out the door thinking – don’t be late, don’t be late, don’t be late.