Flying Poodles

More About Physical Therapy

I have a love-hate relationship with the process of physical therapy. While I acknowledge that it is helpful, I hate the time I spend doing it. It’s HOURS, twice a week. It takes almost two hours from when I arrive at PT before I leave. During that time, I do exercise after exercise aimed at restoring my knee to its proper function, have “manual therapy” (not massage, “manual therapy”) aimed at getting rid of adhesions and breaking up scar tissue, do more exercises, and have ice and electrical stimulation applied for fifteen minutes, during which I usually read People magazine (dare I admit that’s my favorite part of PT?).

BUT it takes HOURS and HOURS of my time, twice a week. And recovery is so slow. I still wake up every morning with a stiff knee that takes a while to work properly. I still limp when I walk downhill. Hell, I still limp when I walk, period, end of statement.

However, and this is GOOD, yesterday I realized that, properly loosened up, walking upstairs (alternating legs, even) is now less painful than it was  in the last month or so before the surgery. And, there was a moment while I was chasing the dog around when I realized that I was actually striding powerfully, not limping, in my fury. Anger is such a good painkiller.