"Daddy!"

 

      Last November, I went to a physical therapy clinic because of some muscle/nerve problems. My therapist was this lady in her early twenties, I think; young enough to be my daughter, really. Nothing unusual occurred, except that she loved to call me “daddy.” Yep, daddy, after she learned my age. I was expecting her to call me “Sir,” or “Kuya,” or "Manong" or even “Tatay,” I wouldn’t mind. But she’d call me “daddy” instead, while I lay there shirtless on the bed, and every time, I’d stifle a chuckle, stopping myself from calling her “baby” just in time. Hehe.

     “Daddy, wait, I’d get the TENS.”

     “Daddy, does this hurt?”

     “Daddy, don’t move.”

     What made it a bit more strange was that when a female patient, who looked like in my age bracket approached her, she called her "Ma'am," not "mommy." Hehe.

     Anyway, of course, I thought it was innocent or playful on her part, I just remembered it because an article entitled “Swingers explain what you really mean when you say ‘daddy’ in the bedroom” appeared on my Facebook News Feed. The article was meant for couples and about intimacy, but still, the title earned a few chuckles from me.

     I only had three sessions, because I felt that my symptoms (pain and burning sensation on my shoulder blades, pins and needles, etc.) were getting worse instead of easing. I only had mild symptoms when I went to them.

     I went back to watching stretches and exercises on YouTube. Now, almost all my symptoms are gone—but if they get worse again, I’d probably undergo physical therapy again, but to a different therapy clinic, and maybe with an older, more experienced therapist. Hehe.