Sore. Soar.

I am sore.  Capital S-O-A-R.

Let me go back to the beginning.  A couple weeks ago, I became frustrated with my physical therapy.  I felt I was in a rut.  I’m not progressing.  The routines were always the same.  I wasn’t seeing much change.  I know that plateaus happen.  I am prepared for that.  But it seemed I was in a PT rut.  My parents came down to take me to a session.  The session started off with my therapist trying to put leg braces on me for 25 minutes.  No joke.  25 minutes.  Then I walked one lap around the room (about 60-70 feet) and then I was done.  She ended the session 15 minutes early.  I was frustrated.  I’ve been really pushing myself in pool therapy and seeing great results.  But then I have a session like that, and I’m frustrated.  There’s also the fact that I felt my therapist didn’t really get me.  She’d put a brace on and ask “How does that feel?”.  That’s hard for me to answer since I have no feeling in my legs….

I’m the type of person who lets things go.  I will just put up with things.  I put up with these sessions for months, because I just figured that’s what it was supposed to be.  And I didn’t want to say anything to upset my therapists, cause I really like both of them.  It’s definitely nothing personal.  My mom is like a pit bull when it comes to me and my health.  She will fight and protect whenever she feels that I am threatened.  She witnessed this session and she lost it.  She sees how hard I am fighting to get mobility back and was beyond livid that the therapist would be so nonchalant about the session.  She wanted me to call the boss and ask for a new therapist.  I don’t like awkwardness.  I decided to try to find a new place.

Keep in mind, I was spoiled by having the Drill Sergeant during my acute rehab.  He was seriously the best physical therapist ever.  He pushed me.  Made me work.  I hated him.  And I want to find someone as similar to him as possible.  Call me a glutton for punishment.  If I didn’t live 2 hours away from him, I’d still be going to him.

I was referred to a new facility by the pool where I do my swimming.  I looked them up and they seemed young but very educated and qualified.  I made an appointment for the evaluation with the head of the group.  He was probably about my same age and full of energy.  He seemed to know what he was talking about.  But what struck me the most, is that within an hour after my evaluation with him, he’d already contacted a prosthesis guy on my behalf.  This guy is going to make my bionic legs.  I’d been trying to get them made by a company since early December 2013 but they were giving me the run around.  I told the new therapist that and he was outraged.  The fact that he was willing to help me when he had known me for 50 minutes meant a lot to me.  That’s when I decided to break up with my therapist for good.

I’ve had 3 sessions with my new therapist now.  Each time, he has pushed me beyond what I think I can do.  He also explains the mechanics behind what I need to be doing.  He wants me to struggle and fight and do things the right way, versus sloppy movements just to get something done.  This is just like the Drill Sergeant.  With the DS, if I did something sloppy, I had to repeat it until I did it right.  This new therapist makes me do that.  With DS, I was sweaty by the end of the session.  My shirt looked like I had been doing pool therapy.  The new pt pushes me until I have broken a sweat, and then makes me continue even further.  DS was sarcastic and hilarious.  The new pt isn’t quite there yet.  But, maybe soon.  I warned the new pt that I would always try to argue and convince him to go easy on me and that he can’t let me get away with anything.  He said he never does.  So while he’s not the Drill Sergeant, he seems to be the closest I will get to having DS out here with me.  And as long as I progress and have someone who keeps me working, I’ll be ok with that.  And that is why today, after yesterday’s hour long session, I am sore.  And soaring.

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