physical therapy session #5. my physical therapist is concerned that i can only bend my knee 40 degrees or so, even though it's been 10 weeks since the accident and 6 weeks since surgery. this is probably because of scar tissue that has adhered to something - i'm not sure what. i might have to have another surgery ("manipulation" where the doctor would bend my knee while i'm under anesthesia or arthroscopic surgery where he would go in with a camera and remove the scar tissue). this scares me b/c surgery feels big. but if this will allow me to bend more without the immense pain that i feel now, that would be a relief. it would also reduce the feeling that my non-bending is my fault b/c i am determined to find a way to blame this - the accident, the healing, anything - on myself.
i'm lying on my stomach bending my knee backwards which always makes me sad b/c it's the position that reminds me of dhanurasana and whenever i'm in that position i wonder if i'll ever do dhanurasana again when i hear: "somebody run over me with their car or shoot me right now" from the woman lying next to me, who is taking a break from doing her exercises. i say, "oh, please don't say that." i know from my last session when she and i spoke that there is unevenness in her spine and when it rains the pain is horrible - "rain is pain." today she tells me that she is also recovering from breast cancer surgery and her insurance just cut her off. she could not afford the $25 that she was supposed to pay upfront at one of her doctor's visits. it is only with her church's assistance that she can stay in her apartment - otherwise, she would be homeless. a burst of perspective.
as she continues with her exercises, she says, "something else is lifting my leg right now b/c i'm not." what is it that kicks in and helps us do what we don't think we can do? "you have incredible strength" i tell her, just as earlier, another patient who i knew from the last session called me a "trooper." i surely don't feel like a trooper just as the woman next to me had said earlier that she isn't strong.
in the midst of her own pain, she gives me tips on how to ease my pain. and everything feels circular. all of us encouraging each other, exchanging looks - winces and painful expressions and supportive smiles. the therapist makes us laugh: "as long as you're laughing, you're ok." all of us broken, if we put all of our bodies together, we would probably be able to function. like me and the woman at the grocery store, holding our single crutch with opposite hands, opposite legs injured. she said, "between the two of us, we are ok." or the elderly man in the wheelchair who looked at me - and the big brace around my leg - with a big smile and said "sorry."
i am able to lift my leg for the first time and i tell my PT "i didn't think i would ever be able to do that." he says, "that, i knew you would get to. bending, i'm not so sure." oh god, please don't say that. as long as he believes, i believe. if he doubts, i doubt.
post-therapy the tears make an appearance from the pain and effort and disappointment. and then a childhood friend treats me to a decadent lunch from the waffle truck that we eat in riverside park and everything is ok for awhile.
i'm lying on my stomach bending my knee backwards which always makes me sad b/c it's the position that reminds me of dhanurasana and whenever i'm in that position i wonder if i'll ever do dhanurasana again when i hear: "somebody run over me with their car or shoot me right now" from the woman lying next to me, who is taking a break from doing her exercises. i say, "oh, please don't say that." i know from my last session when she and i spoke that there is unevenness in her spine and when it rains the pain is horrible - "rain is pain." today she tells me that she is also recovering from breast cancer surgery and her insurance just cut her off. she could not afford the $25 that she was supposed to pay upfront at one of her doctor's visits. it is only with her church's assistance that she can stay in her apartment - otherwise, she would be homeless. a burst of perspective.
as she continues with her exercises, she says, "something else is lifting my leg right now b/c i'm not." what is it that kicks in and helps us do what we don't think we can do? "you have incredible strength" i tell her, just as earlier, another patient who i knew from the last session called me a "trooper." i surely don't feel like a trooper just as the woman next to me had said earlier that she isn't strong.
in the midst of her own pain, she gives me tips on how to ease my pain. and everything feels circular. all of us encouraging each other, exchanging looks - winces and painful expressions and supportive smiles. the therapist makes us laugh: "as long as you're laughing, you're ok." all of us broken, if we put all of our bodies together, we would probably be able to function. like me and the woman at the grocery store, holding our single crutch with opposite hands, opposite legs injured. she said, "between the two of us, we are ok." or the elderly man in the wheelchair who looked at me - and the big brace around my leg - with a big smile and said "sorry."
i am able to lift my leg for the first time and i tell my PT "i didn't think i would ever be able to do that." he says, "that, i knew you would get to. bending, i'm not so sure." oh god, please don't say that. as long as he believes, i believe. if he doubts, i doubt.
post-therapy the tears make an appearance from the pain and effort and disappointment. and then a childhood friend treats me to a decadent lunch from the waffle truck that we eat in riverside park and everything is ok for awhile.
No comments:
Post a Comment