Physical Therapy or Medieval Torture?

You know that old saying, the bigger they are, the harder they fall?  It turns out it's true. When I fell, I meant it. My knee has been quite unhappy since the embarrassing crash I took at work over a month ago. I shall hereafter refer to that moment as "the incident."

As a result of "the incident" I have been ordered by medical professionals to attend weekly PT sessions. About 10 years ago I got whiplash and went to see a PT. Mostly they just massaged and stretched me. That PT never really asked me to do anything, and I was fine with that.

Not so with this new bunch. They work me hard. I have teased the PT Assistant mercilessly about putting me on the racks and locking me into stocks.  I asked her about the thumbscrews and, fortunately, she didn't know what thumbscrews were. (I encouraged her to chat with her Game of Thrones friends.)

My PT and her Jovial Assistant (aka J.A.)  not only force me to use various torture devices in their presence, they also want me to inflict myself at home with a regimen of exercises including one which involves looping a dog leash around my foot and pulling it vertically across my back and over my right shoulder. I have named this exercise the Ouchy Dog Walk. My book of physical terror games grows thicker after each visit.

In spite of rehab's discomfort, I appreciate how my PT and J.A. smile and lob words of encouragement as I suffer. Sometimes they even offer some praise when I get through something with only minor (although amusing) complaints.   J.A. even laughs at my torture related jokes. Even though she has probably heard them all before, she does a nice job of pretending that she hasn't. 

Health care providers can burn out. Personally, I often tire of seeing suffering weather it's a pet or the human family. I've had times in my career where I was pretty low after a what seemed to be a plethora of negative outcomes and grumpy people.  Most of  us have crossed paths with a health care provider or two who is tired and/or jaded by the system. 

I am fortunate to have some superior providers on my case who care about the outcome and can chuckle with me about "the incident." So the saga continues until this knee resolves or I see a thumbscrew and run. (Dang, I'm in trouble! I can't run!) 

Thanks to my peeps at Providence Rehab & Sports Medicine-Tansabourne for great service and support. 

No Sonic, we aren't going for a walk. I'm doing my PT. 

lw

Jaded at the Coffee House

Sometimes when I am tired or a little blue, I head across the street from work to the multi-million dollar coffee chain for a Frappucino. (I won't use this company's name since I fear litigation when I dis them.)  I don't frequent the place super often as the drinks are spendy and loaded with empty calories. They are tasty though, and the sugar and caffeine give me a shot in the arm for the afternoon. 

I thought I needed one today. I was indeed a little blue about something. So I headed over on my lunch break to get a lift. First, they didn't have the type of sandwich I wanted. I was okay about it and chose something else after checking with the clerk to make sure they didn't have one stowed somewhere. Then I ordered my fave s'mores frap and headed to the pick-up end of the counter. 

I was greeted by a nice young man who informed me that he didn't have all the elements needed to create my drink of choice. I know my face shifted from excited (about that drink) to super frowny. 

"I'm not happy," I said in a flat tone. "Really, I'm just not happy." That's the drink I want today. I needed that drink today I thought. Damn, it's not fair. What is wrong with this place that they would take this drink away after selling it to me? If they didn't have it, they should not have sold it to me. 

" I  can make it," he said, "but it won't be the same. Do you want something else?"

" Ok," I resolved, " I will have waffle cone instead."

" Oh, I'm so sorry. We discontinued that drink too." He was apologetic at least. 

I crossed my arms and flopped them on the counter. I am aware that my face was now extra frowny. I broke the eye contact I had with the man, and hung my head.

The Drink 

"Now, I'm not just unhappy," I grumbled. "Now, I'm upset." I was slumped over in disappointment like a kid whose scoop just leapt from the cone. I sighed. It occurred to me then that I was being a big baby over a frosty drink. It also occurred to me that I didn't care. I wasn't angry, just disappointed. I wanted a pick me up. I wanted to feel better, and go back to work stoked.

I finally picked out another drink. I, with great sadness, requested extras for which I had not paid and was rewarded.  I was handed the drink and the barista felt so bad that he also gave me a gift card for another drink. I thanked him for his efforts and tried to provide a half-assed smile. The poor guy wanted me to walk out happy and I couldn't do it. 

I drank  the hazelnut frap with banana and extra whip and was not happy about it. I was jaded by the multi-million dollar coffee corp. who had lured me in for something that was no longer there. 

Such is life, I guess. Aren't we all subject to being lured by a promise of something that isn't really there or wasn't what we thought it would be? There in lies the disappointment that often strips us down to our basic human-ness. We want what doesn't exist and mope when we don't get it. 

lw