64. Intensive Therapy

Elena

“I believe in you, Elena. Not too long now.” Marcus, my physiotherapist, urges me on while I do my leg exercises. It has been close to four months since the accident and I can walk on crutches, but the biting cold of winter in London has made it difficult. The pain when I wake up in the morning is dull but bearable and nothing anti-inflammatories could not fix, although I tend to not take them as much due to my weak disposition. What else can I do but grin and bear it?

I know that this is necessary for me to walk again, but damn it.

You would think the physio would hurt more, but it’s the sessions with my therapist that do. I have been weaned off my anxiety medication and he’s placed me on a light antidepressant. The reason for this was because I realised that I was slowly getting addicted to the anxiety medication. I popped one whenever a wave of anxiety hit and it was happening too often to count. My therapist pra