I know some people get good results with physical therapy, but I can’t say I’ve ever been one of them.
My first experience with PT was after blowing out my shoulder ten years ago. I could hardly raise my arm and instead of giving me a cortisone shot my doctor sent me to 8 weeks of therapy. When it was finished? I still couldn’t raise my arm and it hurt twice as much. On my next office visit the doctor shot me full of cortisone, which brought instant relief and no issues to this day.
My second experience with physical therapy was three years ago when my knee hurt so badly I could hardly walk. Doctor gave me a cortisone shot, which didn’t help at all, and sent me to therapy for 6 weeks. Lots of pain with no improvement sent me running (okay, hobbling) to the acupuncturist which was the only thing I ever found that helped.
So now I’m almost three weeks post partial knee replacement and have had two out patient physical therapy sessions. The first visit was an assessment where I had to perform tricks like a trained seal. There were no sardine treats at the end, but that’s what it felt like.
At the second visit we did some exercises, mostly the same ones I’ve been doing at home, and though I’ve already been scheduled for two visits a week for the next four weeks she said I was doing so well we could probably drop it to once a week.
Which makes me feel like this…
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If all we’re doing there are the same things I’m doing at home… why am I even going?
Other than to bill insurance for something I don’t seem to need.
The home physical therapist came this morning to remove my bandage.
He’s sweet and calls me a rock star.
And Super Girl.
And the ideal patient because I’m doing so well so quickly. Honestly, he’s amazed I’m walking easily, doing exercises and caring for myself without assistance ten days post surgery.
My pain tolerance leaves him speechless. Especially since the nerve block wore off and I didn’t reach for the narcotics.
Sadly most people are still suffering at this point but he was so impressed with my progress, he decided to discharge me early… even though my insurance would cover three more visits.
Yay me.
And now, the reveal.
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Ta da!
The purple permanent marker is what the surgeon uses to line up your skin after he cuts. They take forever to fade and it’s not like you can use anything to scrub them off on a fresh scar.
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The PT guy carefully used a few alcohol wipes to remove some of the outer lines.
After dealing with constant pain in my right knee for the past two years, I finally cried uncle and made an appointment with an orthopedist. Thankfully it was a different orthopedist than the one who told me “It will either heal or it won’t” two years ago when the injury first occurred. She diagnosed a deep root radial meniscal tear ( the worst kind, the kind that doesn’t heal) as well as damage to my MCL and told me I’d probably need surgery. Wanting to avoid that…. I tried everything else. Ice, heat, massage, exercise, even acupuncture. Nothing worked and instead of getting better, it actually got worse. Groaning every time I got up and coming down stairs one at a time like an old woman was getting, well… old.
The new orthopedist did tests, and told me what I already knew… nothing had healed, and to add insult to injury, I also have holes in my cartilage now. Yay me. The options were slim – have surgery to remove the meniscus which would alleviate the pain but hasten the road to total knee replacement.. to which I said no thank you… or start with a cortisone shot and try physical therapy. I chose door number two.
After an ultra sound guided cortisone shot I was a seriously happy camper. On day one I had 40% less pain. By day three I could take stairs normally and felt 70% less pain upon standing. Why had I waited two years!! It was a miracle.
But then…
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Then I had to enter the torture chamber.
The week after my shot, I met the man I would pay to hurt me. And that’s exactly what he did. After an initial consultation he put me on the table and gave me the most painful deep tissue massage imaginable. He informed me my hamstring had contracted over the past two years and it had to be pressed and stretched back into service. I limped out of the building with my hammy screaming, barely able to drive home. It’s a good thing they only scheduled me for once a week because it took that long for the pain to subside.
Week #2 he prodded and pressed and took me into the huge gym attached to the building. Physical therapy my ass, I felt like I’d been thrown into NFL training camp. A plethora of squats, band work and what seemed like 300 knee bends later he made me pull and push 90 pounds of some weird weighted contraption down and back the entire length of the gym. When I was done I must have looked pathetic because he let me sit down with a pressurized ice cuff.
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(If those things didn’t cost $3,500 I swear I’d have one at home.) And again, I limped out of the building, sore for a solid week.
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Did I mention the therapy room has an entire wall of windows so everyone in the waiting room can watch your torture sessions? Fun idea.
Not.
Session number three began with him asking how much better I was feeling and me answering not much. He did some manipulations, said my patella was aggravated and proceeded to smooth out the inflammation with some stinky gel and what looked like a miniature squeegee. Whatever, it didn’t hurt and I didn’t have to go back to the gym so that’s a win in my book.
I did however go home with a sexy new accessory.
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Is that hot or what?
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Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.
