My Legs Don’t Go That Way

Physical Therapy. Sounds like a good thing right? I mean it’s therapy. By definition therapy is “treatment designed to relieve or heal.” But I’m on to them now. Oh yes, I figured out their game. It’s PE in disguise. And I hated PE. This so-called therapy is all a facade to get you in the door. Once inside, they make your legs go in directions they were never meant to go.

A month ago I decided the pain in my back must be addressed. I started looking for a new desk chair since mine was apparently trying to kill me. Then a friend suggested that it may not be the chair, but the fact that I sit at my desk all day. Apparently sitting is the new smoking. So I turned to the allure and comfort of “therapy” figuring it couldn’t hurt to try it. #foreshadowing

The first visit was all roses and candy. Easy stretches and light pressure from “Pebbles”, the name of the machine they put me on. This is also a diversion tactic. They give the robotic machines nice names, especially the ones you meet first.  It’s all part of the ploy.

The second visit they introduced me to “Bam Bam” and made me bend, lift, stretch and contort in ways I was never meant to. Determined to not be beat by these tactics, I worked and worked to do what I was asked to do. I figured there was a piece of chocolate or something waiting for me as a reward. But no. The therapy master said, “Now get up and walk around a little bit.” HA! My legs feel like jello and I need a nap. I’m gonna walk out the door if I can get off this table. But I learned another one of their tricks. They have you put your purse (with car keys inside) in a cubby that is strategically located as far away from the front door as possible. Very smart on their part.

But I can tell I am getting better so I am encouraged. As an overachiever I keep working harder to be able to say I can do the exercises they give me each visit. But here’s another thing I learned. If you say you can do the exercises, they give you harder ones. Ah Ha. More tricks.

By now I think I have their game figured out. I’m smart. I learned how to avoid PE with stealthy ninja-like prowess. I got this. Oh nay nay. On Friday, they introduced me to traction.

What in the sam heck is this medieval madness? Oh just lie on this nice comfy table and hold on for dear life as we pull you apart. This should definitely help you, she says. It feels good, she says. I considered running. I considered pretending to have to go to the bathroom and jump out the window. But my dang car keys… The cubby… shoot…

Minutes later I find myself strapped in and feeling 80 lbs of pressure pull at me from the waist down as the size of my eye balls set a new world record. 20 minutes later and I was still alive and certain I was an inch taller. Hooray for a lower BMI.

But I’m not going back. Ok, I’ll be back on Monday. And the following Friday. And the week after that. But I’m gonna be sure I keep my car keys within arms reach.

I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength. Philippians 4:13

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11 thoughts on “My Legs Don’t Go That Way”

  1. Linda Gilchrist


  2. I remember telling myself just before Suzanne was born, and I was scared stupid, that if Dad could endure all the pain he had gone through in his lifetime, I could surely have a baby. And I did … all 9 pounds of her.

  3. Pingback: Step Into the Bubble | The Adventures of a Cape Wearing Mom

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