It’s Thursday! It’s time to share some doors! What did I capture this week? Let’s find out.
I was reluctant to try physical therapy. I’m gaining the use back in my wrist over time. For instance, two months ago, in a cast then just out of it, I couldn’t bend my arm/wrist to the left — to accept change in my hand in the drive-through, for instance. Now, I can. I can also tie my shoes and put a ponytail holder in. I will get my strength back, over time. I do believe Dr. Ortho is an impatient man. Me, I’m content for it to take as long as it takes as long as I’m doing my exercises and using my hand and wrist regularly.
But I went. Maybe it would make it easier.
The first visit was an evaluation. I learned to what degree (literally) my left wrist bends and moves in comparison to the other. I received a muscle heat treatment then a massage, then I used the hand bike for 13 minutes. The last part was a practical cryo-treatment — the ice for the cool down was Arctic.
The second treatment involved the same, but also a very high tech task: I had to dig in a 5-gallon bucket of rice. I contained my eye roll, but immediately contemplated stopping at Lowe’s to get my own bucket and the grocery store for my own rice and billing myself whatever it is they’ll bill me for this “treatment.” I also squeezed and released a rubber tube, turning it slightly inward and outward, three sets of 20.
The next day, I was sore. My hand hurt.
So the following treatment day, I told my therapist, who I’m now calling Gary Sinise, since he looks just like him. We were going to do some new exercises on the third visit, but my soreness meant that couldn’t happen. So I did the usual: heat, massage, hand bike, rice, and tube-y thingy twist.
“You know, it’s going to be sore,” he said, “and if it is, you need to put ice on it.”
“I’ll buy some more frozen peas*,” I said.
*Frozen peas in a bag are malleble and mold to an area like a wrist easily, plus it’s less messy than ice in a bag or towel.
Will I continue to go, despite the pain? Sure. No pain, no gain, right? Besides, this introvert was “invited” (via a doctor’s Rx) to go somewhere and she went, every time she’s supposed to. Perhaps THIS is how you get introverts to go to things — you have to prescribe it for them.
Also, the people are nice. Gary Sinise and I had some fun chuckles the first night about roller skating, falling down, getting back up, and his atrocious handwriting.
“The nuns used to hit my hands with a ruler because of it,” he said.
“It didn’t help,” I said. “Hey, maybe that’s why it looks like that — ruler hand damage!”
And there are patients that you become familiar with. All I’ve met have way more difficult troubles than me, so I can’t complain. And I didn’t know it, but PT is where the funny people like me are.
Two women were laying next to each other on treating tables.
“My daughter wants to put me in a home,” one said, and the other asked why. “Because she thinks I’m flighty in the mind.”
“Make up a math test,” the other said, “and both do it. Then you’ll see who’s smarter.”
“Oh, she’d do better on that one for sure,” the first woman said.
“Well, then you better start packing.”
The rice may work, and I still think it’s ridiculous to pay people for this, but hey, I know laughter is good medicine. As long as that continues, I’m more than sure I’ll be OK before I know it.
Here then is the door to my therapy place. Just me, Gary Sinise, some rice, and some funny people who make a not-so-pleasant experience much more fun: