At some point today during all the head twists, the 2 lb dumbells, the silly arm bike, the wall pushups, and whatever other weenieness constitutes my r-e-h-a-b-i-l-i-t-a-t-i-o-n, the world got a bit spinny, I got a bit loopy, and my Thouth American Teutonic Terror put the ix-nay on the exercise-ays and I got, without menacing arm flapping or whining or doing my Pugletmodo mimicry, the treat of his magic hands on the back of my head.
It's a funny feeling to let it all go and let someone adjust and pull and shape while you offer no resistance or fight, nor any help either. Every time he says the same thing. Relacth into my handth. Don't fight it.
Even when I think I'm helping. Don't fight it.
15 minutes of silence and helplessness with fingers at where I am most vulnerable. Gotta shut up. Gotta let it happen.
When it's all unsaid and done, he tells me not to do anything at all that brings back the dizziness. It'th a warning, he says. You're puthing to hard. Thtop whatever it ith your doing and wait until it patheth.
This gives me the giggles. If I could stop it all from overwhelming, let it adjust and pull and shape and offer no resistance or fight nor any help either..well. I would not be dizzy. And I wouldn't need those hands anymore.