Because my symptom upsurge is so bad, I'm having to call in a sub for this Sunday's church service. It's entirely possible that I'll be better by Sunday although there's no way of knowing that for sure... but whether or not I can perform on Sunday, I'm in no shape to prep for Sunday, and I think (and my doctor agreed) that I should assume the worst, that I won't be able to prep or to perform, and to call in some help. I think this will be the first time ever that I've bowed out of a church gig. The first time, or one of the only two or three times (assuming I've forgotten one of them) since 1973, the year I started doing church-organ performance. So that's um, what? Thirty-seven years of never or next-to-never calling in sick?
How do I feel about this? Well, I don't know if I feel the divine balm of "acceptance," but I know I don't feel the insistence of "denial," but I don't know if I'd characterize my feeling as "numb," "postponement" of actually feeling something, or ... "I don't know," which is probably the most accurate way to describe it.
Another first: I called some local physical therapists, who are covered by my insurance policy, to see what needs to be done to get into see them. My doctor said yesterday that I needed physical therapy--with audible italics. The bodyworker that he wants me to see (and that I want me to see, he's unbelievably good, even if he's definitely not covered under my policy) is in the Palisades, over an hour via usually-impassible freeway away, and basically impossible to schedule, especially in a way compatible with my work. The local guys are maybe seven minutes away (if I hit all the signals the wrong way), and covered by my plan. I figure, if they don't actually cause me harm, and do any good, they'll be just what I need. And they'll keep me going until I can see Cadillac Bodyworker this summer.
How do I feel about that "first?" Fine. Just fine.
No comments:
Post a Comment