physio

You may or may not know that last winter - New Years Eve, to be precise - I wiped out on the smallest bit of ice that has ever existed, and broke my wrist.

I was well cared for, grâce au système de santé du Canada.

As an aside:

I don't understand nations

*ahem-you-know-who-you-are*

that reject the idea of universal health care

for their citizens.

But that's OK.

Parce que je suis canadienne.

So there was a cast for six weeks. And then a bunch of physiotherapy de l'hôpital.

It still hurt. I told them that.

They wryly told me that I'm not 20 years old anymore, and I BROKE my WRIST. It would hurt for awhile.

Ok, bon.

But then it got worse, up in my shoulder. Couldn't put a jacket on without wincing. Woke up a few times a night because I was laying on it wrong.

I mean, I'm not 20 anymore, d'accord, mais je n'ai pas 100 ans!

Last week, I mentioned it to my doctor. She said, "You need physio. Go see Anna. She's on the sixth floor."

So today, I saw Anna.

And after just less than an hour with her, I would like to do a shout-out to les physiothérapeutes partout, because they are, clearly, miracle workers. Les anges du ciel.

"Do these exercises," she said. "Come back next week, and that probably will do it."

Merci beaucoup, Anna.

Also, I'm practising my franglais / frenglish. 

In case you hadn't noticed.