Repetitive Strain (II)

It was the day before my birthday when the pain became unbearable. My mother took me to an acupuncturist that used to treat my allergies when I was a child. I´d probably not seen him at least since 1990, when we moved West and my allergies got lost somewhere along the way.

To my surprise, the place hadn´t changed a bit: same plain furniture in the same old spots as before. Only the waiting room seemed too empty: I remember that we used to have to wait for hours, often standing.

The secretary interrupted my thoughts: “First time?” I replied that technically it wasn´t, but that it´d been nearly twenty years since the last time. She decided to go look for file all the same, despite the doctor´s protests (“20 years many time. 5 years ok, but 20 many”). Interesting to note that the doctor too hadn´t changed a bit. 

I entered the treatment room, noticed that the posters on the wall also hadn´t changed, lay down on my tummy and the doctor felt my pulse. “Swollen, very swollen, must have pain here in the back also.” As I yelled affirmatively (50% pain, 25% surprise of discovering a new strong pain I didn´t know I had and 25% fright that someone could move so fast), he had no doubt: “Yes. Tendinitis.” This was when I first got to know her name. 

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