Negative Ghost Rider
🌼 Date: Tuesday, September 1, 2026
⚡ Energy: Physical therapy reality check
💖 Status: Left shoulder has opinions
🙄 Outlook: New homework, new normal, same attitude
Today I had physical therapy.
And apparently my shoulder has decided it would be fun to take a few steps backward.
Because why move forward in a straight line when your body can add a little plot twist?
Is this regression?
Is this just part of healing?
Or is this going to be my new normal?
That is the question of the day.
Actually, that is the question of this whole cancer recovery situation.
What is temporary?
What is healing?
What is a setback?
What is permanent?
What is my body still figuring out?
And what am I going to have to adapt to for the rest of my life?
Fun little Tuesday brain spiral.
At home, I am back to where I can only reach the top shelf of the cupboard if I use my right arm.
Trying to reach with the radiated side?
That’s a negative, Ghost Rider.
Lefty is not cleared for that mission.
And the shower?
Also rude.
Can I lift my left arm straight up to wash and rinse my armpit like a normal person?
Nope.
Not happening.
Apparently that direction has been temporarily — or permanently, who knows — removed from the menu.
Instead, I have to raise my arm out to the side.
Does it still get the job done?
Yes.
Is it technically functional?
Also yes.
Do I appreciate being reminded mid-shower that my body is not back to normal?
Absolutely not.
Because that is how cancer recovery works.
It sneaks into the small things.
It is not always the big dramatic moments.
Sometimes it is reaching for a bowl.
Sometimes it is washing your armpit.
Sometimes it is standing in the shower thinking:
“Well, this is new and stupid.”
It is one more reminder that my body is not the body I had before.
Or maybe it is a reminder that this is the body I have now.
That is the hard part.
I keep waiting for “back to normal” like it is an actual destination.
Like one day I will arrive there, park the car, get out, and say:
“Great. We made it. Everything works again.”
But what if normal is not coming back?
What if this is not about getting back?
What if it is about learning the new map?
I hate that.
For the record.
I hate that very much.
Because I liked my old map.
My old map included reaching shelves.
Lifting my arm.
Working long days.
Moving without thinking about scar tissue, radiation tightness, lymphedema, range of motion, or whether my left side was going to file a complaint.
Now everything has fine print.
So today my physical therapist gave me new homework.
Because apparently my body is still in school.
Forever.
I asked if I am going to need to keep doing stretches for the rest of my life.
And the answer was basically:
Most likely, yes.
Cool.
Cool cool.
Nothing says “welcome to survivorship” like lifetime homework for your armpit.
Some of the old exercises were not giving us much of a result, so we got rid of the ones that were not very effective.
Then we added some new ones to see if they might work better.
New stretches.
New movements.
New things to try.
New opportunities for my radiated side to act offended.
This is the part people do not always see when they hear that treatment is done.
They think done means done.
But my body is still dealing with the aftermath.
Radiation may be over, but the tightness is still here.
Surgery may be over, but the pulling is still here.
The incisions may be healed, but the restrictions are still here.
The cancer may be gone, but the maintenance plan apparently has no expiration date.
And yes, I am grateful.
Always.
But I am also annoyed.
Because both things can be true.
I can be grateful to be alive and still be irritated that I cannot reach the top shelf with my left arm.
I can be thankful for physical therapy and still not want lifetime stretch homework.
I can understand why my body needs this and still want to yell:
“Could one thing just be easy?”
Apparently not.
So here we are.
New homework.
New stretches.
New plan.
Same Tiny Tina attitude.
I will do the work because I want as much function as I can get.
I will stretch because I do not want my radiated side tightening up like shrink wrap.
I will keep trying because this body fought hard to keep me here, and I owe it care even when it frustrates me.
But I am allowed to be frustrated.
I am allowed to be tired of the constant reminders.
I am allowed to miss the version of my body that did not require instructions.
I am allowed to wonder if this is temporary or permanent.
I am allowed to hate the phrase “new normal” while actively living inside one.
Today was not my favorite.
My shoulder took a few steps back.
My left side is being dramatic.
My physical therapy homework got revised.
And apparently armpit access is now a whole mobility goal.
Cancer recovery is weird.
Survivorship is weird.
Bodies are weird.
But I am still here.
Still doing the stretches.
Still asking questions.
Still adjusting.
Still trying.
Still taking care of the body that got me through hell, even when that body currently cannot reach the damn cupboard.
So fine.
New homework accepted.
Negative Ghost Rider noted.
Lefty and I will report back after further stretching.
Want to follow the journey from the beginning?
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💗 Tina –
One Badass Day at a Time
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