I just cancelled tomorrow’s outpatient PT session, but I did make it to today’s CT scan and MRI.
I was thinking that although I wasn’t terribly excited about PT tomorrow, I could make it through. Then I got out of bed a wobbly mess and needed help pulling my pajama pants up, and the inner monologue went something like this:
You are not seriously going to do PT at eight o’clock in the morning, are you?
Well, when you put it like that.
And so I signed into MyChart. My next session is scheduled for Tuesday.
The scans today took so much out of me when I was already moving around hunched over. I think my spine or neck is misaligned. So the car ride, the transferring, the IV contrast, the heat—I think all of it whittled away at my resolve.
Pushing through stuff I have no business attempting sets me up for physical failures that lead to negative self-talk that lead to anxiety spirals. There are times to step outside of my comfort zone, but tomorrow morning doesn’t feel like one. So I’m being nice to myself and taking the day off from appointments. Especially ones where physical exertion is the entire point.
Tomorrow will be for watching Murderbot and maybe some writing.
Speaking of writing, I filled out my CT and MRI forms using my left hand. It’s much easier to write nearly without the time crunch and with a writing table angled to fit me comfortably. The arms of my wheelchair are a nuisance. But it was legible. It need only be legible.
One thing I need to give myself credit for before I take a gummy and try to relax: I opened my eyes for thirty seconds with my head pinned down inside the MRI today. I probably could have gone longer, it just seemed unwise to push it when I needed to be still.