Today was my first day of physical therapy on my now healing broken ankle. I must say, I approached it with much fear and trepidation. After being immobile for almost 8 weeks I just knew that first movement was going to be excruciatingly painful. I also knew that enduring this pain was my only chance of finally getting rid of "the boot"; that ugly, heavy, uncomfortable, and by now very smelly knee high boot that kept my ankle immobilized.
Now don't get me wrong, I am no wimp when it comes to pain. I pride myself in having a very high threshold of tolerance and I have the battle scars to prove it. For years I have dealt with pain on a daily basis because of degenerative disc disease, five spine surgeries and multiple forms of arthritis. All that aside, I still dreaded this physical therapy.
Since I can't drive until I get "the boot" off, my niece took me to the pt office this afternoon. That has been the toughest part of all this, being stuck at home and not able to drive. I hate losing my independence, but that's another story. Back to the pt office...
First, the therapist took off "the boot" and my sock; then proceeded to evaluate the extent of the weakness and stiff muscles in my ankle. So far not too bad.
Then he began to massage and work out the stiffness - a little worse, but still not too bad.
Then came the exercises...and that was...still not too bad! I was expecting it to be much worse than it turned out to be. It was a pleasant surprise.
I anticipate that as the sessions continue they will get a little more intense. That's the necessary cost in order to regain my mobility and freedom. No one ever said life would be easy. But who knows, maybe I'll be pleasantly surprised.
Until next time...that's my view.