“I Can’t Do It”

“I CAN’T DO IT!”

That line keeps repeating in my head. Over and over and over and over and over again.

That’s mostly what my mom said during yesterday’s PT session.

She has a very strong fear about falling, which I kinda get. Except she didn’t have that fear 3 weeks ago and she hasn’t fallen since then. When the PT and OT set her up in the, oh, I don’t know what you call it — we’ll call it “the rack” — she went ape shit.

“I CAN’T DO IT!” “I CAN’T DO IT!” “I CAN’T DO IT!”

“I’m going to fall and break my neck!”

But, Mom, they won’t let you fall. You’re locked in a standing position with a nylon web wrapped around your butt, legs, and hips and you’re holding onto “the rack”. You can’t fall. It’s IMPOSSIBLE.

“I’m going to fall and break my mother fucking neck!”

No, you’re not.

Everything–and I mean EVERYTHING–they had her do yesterday was met with bitching, moaning, bellyaching, and cussing.

At one point she said, “I just want to die. I’m going to kill myself.”

Great, Mom, now they have to report this and you’re discouraging as Hell. Keep this up, and they’ll send you to the looney bin. No lie. It’s in the building behind us.

Yesterday was a bitch. I can’t do this much longer.