I woke up this morning on my stomach with my chin on the pillow, craning my neck in the most painful position possible. There’s no telling how long I slept like that, but judging from the throbbing headache that followed it was a very long time.
I got out of bed and tried to nurse the most awful headache I’ve ever experienced, but nothing was helping. I called crying to mama and before long there was a knock at the door. She called my sweet daddy and told him. He ran by the apartment on his lunch break and saved the day. Obviously in work mode, he hurriedly directed me to lay flat on the bed. With his very skilled hands he rubbed and stretched the base of my neck and head, turned it in awkward positions, then held it in a firm position for about 5 minutes solid. I felt better already knowing those hands have been fixing people for over 35 years and I was afraid to talk for fear it might ruin the therapy that was happening. When he’s working, he’s not the same man I see at home. I quietly thanked him for coming by on his break. He said, “only for my baby girl.” As quickly as he arrived he was gone to see his home health patients and told me, “you’ll be better any minute.”
And I was. Only physical therapists can heal you with their hands instead of prescriptions. I love him, and it’s easy to see why his patients are so gracious and thankful. I’m glad he’s all mine when the next headache shows up unannounced.