Had my first in-home appointment with my physical therapist today. Nice young man. Likes animals, which is a good attribute to have when you walk into my house. Lives in the next town over, very pleasant and seems to know his stuff.
Although the precise historical date of the first use of physical therapy isn’t known, it’s thought to have been in use during The Spanish Inquisition.
After the small talk, the vital signs and a couple measurements … “All right Mr. Waterman, let’s see if we can get a better idea of where you’re at in your rehabilitation program. Nothing big or strenuous, I just want to get an idea of what we need to do to get that new knee and you, up and running. OK?”
Sure. Sounds like a plan. And by the way, it’s Glenn. No need for formality here. And since my dogs haven’t eaten you, they must like you too. Although we did feed them just before you got here.
“Ha – that’s good to hear. So great, Glenn, let’s start off with some stretching so I can get an idea of your range of motion.”
Let’s do it.
4:01 p.m. They say you learn something new every day. And I do believe it’s true. I never knew I had a group of freckles on the back of my right knee that, if you look at them quick, damn if they don’t resemble Teddy Roosevelt, mouth full of teeth and all. Fascinating.
Physical therapy, in the wrong hands, can cause some disastrous results.
Of course I’ve never noticed these birthmarks because I’ve never actually seen the skin on the back of my right knee. Until now.
“OK, Glenn, let’s see if we can determine the flexibility range of your hip flexor …”
I attempt to answer him but what I think is my left shoulder blade is blocking my mouth.
“Good Glenn, that’s very good. Now just hold it there, hold it, hoooooold it …
4:11 p.m. I’m not certain but I believe at this point I am beginning to see stars. Either that or the sun is glinting off of my fingernails. Which hand? I don’t know.
4:13 p.m.: At this moment, I confess that there is no federal deficit. I accidentally picked up the wrong lunch bag when I left the cafeteria at The National Treasury during a tour a few years ago and when I got out to the car, I found it had $14 trillion dollars in it. I was too scared to bring it back inside, so I buried it out in my backyard. Sorry, America.
“Very, very good! A few more weeks and I believe this leg’s going to be strong enough to help steady you when the other knee is replaced,” he chirps as he heads out the door and I struggle to regain consciousness. “See you again on Wednesday!”
They call me Mr. Waterman, kid, I mumble, a mouthful of elbow still stuck in my teeth.
Mental note: Don’t feed the dogs before Wednesday. Let’s see if they can determine this guy’s range of motion.