Physical Therapy
I recognized the tall red office building the first time I saw it. It looked the same as it had when I'd looked it up on Google maps, street view. In fact, I'd already pulled into the parking lot, and was hurrying through the snowy drizzle to the front door before I saw the number on the building. This was it, though. I pulled open the front door with my left hand and walked in. On the wall to the right, next to the elevator was a directory. The office I was looking for listed, #227, just like it said on the paper in the folder clutched under my left arm. To the left was a staircase. I made my way up the stairs carefully, and soon found myself in a maze of offices. Should I take the hall to the left or the hall to the right? I wondered. I assumed that the hall went around in a circle, and that I'd get there one way or another, so I chose the hall on the left. I passed several doors, some with labels, others without, until I came to #227, and opened the door.
I had no sooner opened the door than I wondered if I should have knocked first. Was this the right place? The door opened on a single room. It was maybe 12 feet wide by 25 feet long. The door opened in the south east corner of the room which stretched out to left. Directly in front of the door, along the shorter east wall were two chairs, and then a desk covered with paper and a lap top. The rest of the room contained four exercise machines with springs and pulleys and straps attached to them in various places. There was also a lilac colored rubber ball about two feet in diameter. There was a small window at the far end of the room and another chair or two. The only decorations in the room that I noticed were several framed certificates hanging on the wall behind the desk.
There were two people in the room. At the desk sat a man of middle age with shortly cropped hair. On the exercise machine closest to the desk, a woman with long wavy red hair lay on her back with her stocking covered feet pressed against a bar at the end. As she bent and straightened her legs, her body rolled slowly forward and back along a track.
When I came in, the man at the desk greeted me. "Hello. Are you MaeLyn?"
"Yes." I told him.
"It's nice to meet you." He told me. he quickly got to business, asking for my insurance card and drivers license, and then for my referral paper from the doctor. I dug the cards out of my wallet, and the referral from my paper. I removed my coat and the sling from my arm as he continued to ask questions about how long my shoulder has been hurting, whether it was dislocated or disjointed, whether they surgically opened up my shoulder when they put it back. All the while he entered information into his lap top, and took pictures of my insurance card with his phone.
Finally he had me remove my shoes and come lie down on the next exercise machine down from the desk. This one was different from the one the other woman was laboring on. It looked more stable, like a bed someone might lie on to lift weights or something. He had me lie on my back and raise my right arm straight up and over my head so gravity would start pulling it down and help it stretch. I held it there for about ten seconds and then lowered it back to my side, rested for a second or two, and then raised it again. Once he got me going, he left me to it, returning to his desk, and continuing a conversation with the other woman, something about some sports team. I ignored them and concentrated on lifting, stretching, relaxing.
After a little while he had me change and move my right arm straight out to the side as far towards my head as I could bring it. After just once, that hurt, so he had me roll onto my left side and raise my right arm up towards the ceiling, again letting gravity pull it down over my head. That was easier, so I did that for a while, raising it up, holding it there for a few seconds feeling the stretch, then slowly lowering it back down again.
After a while of that, he had me stay lying on my side, but keep my right elbow at my waist and slowly raise and lower my hand, keeping it perpendicular to the rest of my body. I did that several times until it was very tired.
Then he had me stand up, and, while holding onto a post at the end of the machine I had been lying on with my left hand, lean forward slightly and let my right arm dangle in front of me. He told me to rotate it in tiny circles as it hung there. After a while, the arm seemed to relax and I could feel the blood coursing through it.
Next he had me stand up with my shoulders back against the wall, and he told me to raise my right arm and then lower it again, I did that several times before at last he told me I could stop.
Finally, he gave me instructions. I am to do the first two stretches at least 2 but no more than 6 times a day, the exercise with my elbow at my waist and the one standing against the wall once a day, and I can do the dangly arm thing as often as necessary. If I over use it and it hurts, I can take a day off, but I need to do it again the following day. I'm to come back next week, and probably every week for the next six weeks or so.
We talked a little more as I put my shoes back on and nestled my arm back in the sling and pulled my coat on over everything. Then I wished him and the woman (who was practicing walking without limping at that moment) goodbye. I'll probably see them both next week.
As I found my way back out of the maze of hallways and down the stairs and back to the car, my arm was tired, but not particularly stiff. It wasn't until later that evening, when I was supposed to be making dinner that I realized just how very hard I had worked it. It felt as though I had been lifting heavy weights for hours. It was totally, utterly exhausted, and I didn't want to use it any more. It was a relief to put it in the sling when we set out for scouts last night - I wouldn't have to use it; it could just lie there and relax.
Over the last couple weeks, I've been hearing about the misery of physical therapy. I understand now. It wasn't the therapy at the office that was hard, it was afterwards. This morning, my arm is still a little sore. I've done the stretches I'm supposed to do. I've done the dangly thingy that is supposed to help relax it. I'm wondering if this achiness is going to be a constant feeling, if it will ever feel really good again. I'm hoping that over time the muscles and ligaments will strengthen or relax or whatever it is they are supposed to be doing, and that I will be able to move it again as I'd like to.
I had no sooner opened the door than I wondered if I should have knocked first. Was this the right place? The door opened on a single room. It was maybe 12 feet wide by 25 feet long. The door opened in the south east corner of the room which stretched out to left. Directly in front of the door, along the shorter east wall were two chairs, and then a desk covered with paper and a lap top. The rest of the room contained four exercise machines with springs and pulleys and straps attached to them in various places. There was also a lilac colored rubber ball about two feet in diameter. There was a small window at the far end of the room and another chair or two. The only decorations in the room that I noticed were several framed certificates hanging on the wall behind the desk.
There were two people in the room. At the desk sat a man of middle age with shortly cropped hair. On the exercise machine closest to the desk, a woman with long wavy red hair lay on her back with her stocking covered feet pressed against a bar at the end. As she bent and straightened her legs, her body rolled slowly forward and back along a track.
When I came in, the man at the desk greeted me. "Hello. Are you MaeLyn?"
"Yes." I told him.
"It's nice to meet you." He told me. he quickly got to business, asking for my insurance card and drivers license, and then for my referral paper from the doctor. I dug the cards out of my wallet, and the referral from my paper. I removed my coat and the sling from my arm as he continued to ask questions about how long my shoulder has been hurting, whether it was dislocated or disjointed, whether they surgically opened up my shoulder when they put it back. All the while he entered information into his lap top, and took pictures of my insurance card with his phone.
Finally he had me remove my shoes and come lie down on the next exercise machine down from the desk. This one was different from the one the other woman was laboring on. It looked more stable, like a bed someone might lie on to lift weights or something. He had me lie on my back and raise my right arm straight up and over my head so gravity would start pulling it down and help it stretch. I held it there for about ten seconds and then lowered it back to my side, rested for a second or two, and then raised it again. Once he got me going, he left me to it, returning to his desk, and continuing a conversation with the other woman, something about some sports team. I ignored them and concentrated on lifting, stretching, relaxing.
After a little while he had me change and move my right arm straight out to the side as far towards my head as I could bring it. After just once, that hurt, so he had me roll onto my left side and raise my right arm up towards the ceiling, again letting gravity pull it down over my head. That was easier, so I did that for a while, raising it up, holding it there for a few seconds feeling the stretch, then slowly lowering it back down again.
After a while of that, he had me stay lying on my side, but keep my right elbow at my waist and slowly raise and lower my hand, keeping it perpendicular to the rest of my body. I did that several times until it was very tired.
Then he had me stand up, and, while holding onto a post at the end of the machine I had been lying on with my left hand, lean forward slightly and let my right arm dangle in front of me. He told me to rotate it in tiny circles as it hung there. After a while, the arm seemed to relax and I could feel the blood coursing through it.
Next he had me stand up with my shoulders back against the wall, and he told me to raise my right arm and then lower it again, I did that several times before at last he told me I could stop.
Finally, he gave me instructions. I am to do the first two stretches at least 2 but no more than 6 times a day, the exercise with my elbow at my waist and the one standing against the wall once a day, and I can do the dangly arm thing as often as necessary. If I over use it and it hurts, I can take a day off, but I need to do it again the following day. I'm to come back next week, and probably every week for the next six weeks or so.
We talked a little more as I put my shoes back on and nestled my arm back in the sling and pulled my coat on over everything. Then I wished him and the woman (who was practicing walking without limping at that moment) goodbye. I'll probably see them both next week.
As I found my way back out of the maze of hallways and down the stairs and back to the car, my arm was tired, but not particularly stiff. It wasn't until later that evening, when I was supposed to be making dinner that I realized just how very hard I had worked it. It felt as though I had been lifting heavy weights for hours. It was totally, utterly exhausted, and I didn't want to use it any more. It was a relief to put it in the sling when we set out for scouts last night - I wouldn't have to use it; it could just lie there and relax.
Over the last couple weeks, I've been hearing about the misery of physical therapy. I understand now. It wasn't the therapy at the office that was hard, it was afterwards. This morning, my arm is still a little sore. I've done the stretches I'm supposed to do. I've done the dangly thingy that is supposed to help relax it. I'm wondering if this achiness is going to be a constant feeling, if it will ever feel really good again. I'm hoping that over time the muscles and ligaments will strengthen or relax or whatever it is they are supposed to be doing, and that I will be able to move it again as I'd like to.
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