I started physical therapy today. It was not at all what I expected. I was prepared for a lot of bending, stretching, and lifting. That’s not at all what I got. It was closer to massage therapy than exercise…but still painful.
Think of it like this…
Imagine you are lying on your back and someone is poking their fingers on the most tender spots at the back of your head. The weight of your head is balanced on their fingers, sending jabs of pain searing through your skull. Then they say, “Relax!” Umm…I thought I was relaxed. Guess not. So, I let go even more. At first it hurts worse…okay that part seems to go on “forever”. Then something changes. I can feel the muscles release and my head sinks into those fingers.
Just when things start to feel good it’s time to move. I thought massage was suppose to be relaxing? OUCH! He swears he’s barely touching me, but the left side of my spine (yeah, I now know that’s the trapezius muscle) is screaming.
Just when I think I can’t take it anymore I get a break…sort of. I roll to one side and he grabs my arm. Again, he says, “Relax!” Duh, you’d think I’d learn, right? He starts moving my shoulder the “right” way, gently correcting me each time my “shoulder” muscle (actually the deltoid muscle in my upper arm) tenses up. He says, “Don’t try to move your arm yourself. Just notice how it feels when I move it correctly”. Then he makes some good-natured remark about my obvious need for control and that “another kind of therapy” deals with that. Yeah, yeah…a therapist with control issues…guilty as charged.
This “therapy” goes on for about 45 minutes until he finally lets me up and teaches me a few exercises to do at home. I never was any good at P.E. class. I’m just too clumsy.
“Use your abs.”
“Keep your neck straight.”
“ROTATE your arms back IN.”
“That’s it, 90 degree angles.”
“Don’t over do it.”
“Don’t try so hard.”
I will get the hang of this.
I don’t like to fail.
I want this to work.
Now let’s just see how much I remember when it comes time to do the homework each day.