I'm on my back in some sort of headlock aka neck stretch, thinking to myself, does she even know her breast is in my ear? I could all but hear her heart beat. It makes me wonder, are they aware of how much contact they have with the patient? All I had to do to look into her sinus cavity was look up. I could just see nose debris falling on my forehead and I tuck and roll right off that bench! I doubt nostril negligence is covered under malpractice insurance. Ridiculous!
When Buttons was my physical therapist, I had to ask him to move stuff off me or tell him his stuff was too close, back up. I can say that to a man . . . not so easy with a woman. Female anger, female confrontation is not something I do well. Enter Robert in protective mode.
I can see myself from a distance. I'm watching myself more protective of my physical space. Robert spun around when a man all but appeared on my right side with a patient. He got snapped at. Do not walk up on me like that! My PT kept talking to me about what she wanted me to do. My attention went back to her. A second time he beamed down from nowhere and was met with the same response. There's no reason to show up behind me that quiet dead silent like. I thought, somebody put a bell on that fool!
By that time the room didn't look normal. Everything was louder. A window opened, I spun around. A plastic therapy ribbon snapped. People seemed closer, everything was in fast forward.
I'm not in a private area. I'm in a gym type room with equipment and exercise bikes. Beds line the walls. It's well lit. I notice the employee exit door and everything I'd need to get past to make it through the door. I'm not thinking clearly because despite the staircase behind the door, I still thought that exit seemed plausible. A mad dash down the stairs for me means rolling down them. I'm not thinking right.
I won't last the full length of time unless I take clonapin before I go see her. Even Betty figured out that touching me was a bad idea. IN THE CAR !!! she lift her hand in what I saw as a fist. She moved towards me with her hand up and said, "Can I. . . " Before the end of her sentence I was out of my seatbelt and out of the car. Flashback city. I don't know how many times I sat in the passengers seat taking physical punches and verbal assaults. For Betty to raise her hand like that today didn't go over well.
The doctor's office is well aware that I have DID. The person who thought to take me from the open area to the corner made a good decision. Unfortunately, PTSD symptoms are raging. I'd like to talk to Dr. D and figuring out how to get in a few more good sessions before I'm handed a neck brace and sent home. It'll be a welcome brace if it helps but I can no longer plan to unwind at night and slip in to something a little less steel.