Dream of Takarazuka: 38 ~ Course of Medical Treatment

[ekusudei]

[ Dream of Takarazuka table of contents ]

Chapter 38 ~*~ Course of Medical Treatment

After my injury was announced, there was a huge uproar.

At any rate, even if it’s a little blood from a cut, I’m the type to make a big fuss and loudly pester everyone.

Was this the kind of thing to be stoic about? Everyone understood that it was an injury worth sympathizing about.

Those who were bad-mouthing my Cossack dance were suddenly also expressing concern for my knee; countless words of encouragement and thanks.

It even advanced to words of respect: “It’s amazing that she’s dancing with that leg!” Being cared about is a very nice feeling.

The feeling was nice, but my body was in pain.

Among Takarasienne, there are many who carry on with sprains or cracked bones, but that’s not in my nature.

I’m the type who hates pain and can’t tolerate it.

So even if it’s a little cut, I shout “I’m bleeding!” and whine.

* * *

The course of treatment began in order to heal my injured knee.

First of all, I went to a surgery near the theater.

Most Takarasienne, and especially me, tend not to put much trust into a Western surgery. At most, I’d get a compress, something like that, or if I were out on medical leave I’d need to get a medical certificate before I could return, that kind of small thing.

“This is definitely a half-circle rotator cuff tear. It would be best to have a specialist look at it,” they said with a beautifully done, precise diagnosis.

And, of course, a compress wasn’t enough to clear up the pain.

If you can’t take away the pain, you’re no doctor!

With that, I forgot about surgeons and went running to Eastern medicine: a judo therapist and an acupuncturist.

With a double treatment of judo therapy and acupuncture, within about 2-3 days the pain and swelling went away.

Ah, why didn’t I trust in the doctor back then?

Back then if I had let the surgeon examine me thoroughly, I might have avoided later absences from the stage!

It's no use crying over spilled milk. The me who was so joyful over being cured, cured! … was an idiot.

But why did that surgeon only give me a compress?

If he’d done a little more treatment, like stretching my knee, or massaging my knee, done anything, maybe I would have been more inclined to trust him.

* * *

In any case, that time I was able to finish out the run without being absent, and was in all of my scenes except for the Cossack dances.