Let me make this clear: I respect all medical professional’s work, experience and knowledge. I respect their diagnoses and I respect their opinions. Whether it be a doctor, chiropractor, physiotherapist or voodoo priest, I always take other professional’s opinion into consideration.
But I fucking hate medical diagnoses for painful symptoms.
I met with a woman recently looking to get stronger and improve her endurance. On the surface level, those are both simple tasks. Lift some things with various number of reps, and give her an on-her-own cardiovascular program.
After going through her injury history, I could tell that there was something more to her goals than she let on.
It’s no mystery that I love my job. Ask any of my clients, peers or friends and they’ll tell you how easily rambunctious I can get when I coach, talk about my systems, or discuss my clients’ progress. I live, breathe, and sleep on a bed of love for my field.
But, where does this love come from?
Let me make this clear: I respect all medical professional’s work, experience and knowledge. I respect their diagnoses and I respect their opinions. Whether it be a doctor, chiropractor, physiotherapist or voodoo priest, I always take other professional’s opinion into consideration.
But I fucking hate medical diagnoses for painful symptoms.
