Therapy

Today was my first day of physical therapy to help with the hip/back/knee/foot pain that is me. It wasn't terribly impressive, but I'm not sure what I was expecting. Years ago I had to go to PT for a few months for the same reason, and I developed a and somewhat embarrassing crush on the physical therapist. I can't imagine that I was his only patient in that predicament. He was a 6'2" Adonis with blue eyes and blonde hair and an incredible vocabulary. Two or three years later I saw a female physical therapist. She was a world traveler with wild and beautiful long curly dark hair and a big beautiful smile. She always wore some combination of athletic and exotic clothing, and at any point you could see patients watching her just waiting to hear what she would say next. She was one of those people who made everyone feel as though they were the most special part of her day. My therapist today... well, he's a friendly enough guy I suppose. He didn't exactly exude confidence or competence, but he was friendly. Very chatty. Sort of too chatty. There was a moment that I found myself thinking that the appointment was more therapeutic for him than for me. I now know the type of car he drives, the style and location of the new house he is buying, the age of his child and the exact number of total children they hope to have, a description of both the granite counter tops and cabinet styles and retailer he is choosing, and his top three behavioral/parenting concerns. I'm pretty sure he knows that my hip hurts.

After checking out my range of motion and some strength tests, he decided that I really just need to stretch more often and gave me a pass to come once a week instead of twice. I guess we'll just wait and see how it goes. The stretches and exercises didn't feel like much at the time, but I can tell something was used a bit differently than usual in my legs, so I'll cross my fingers and hope my body follows his simple plan.