I haven't posted in three weeks, even though a great deal has happened since I started physical therapy. Having taken a turn for the worse and being back on my recliner, I started to write a travel memoir and writing two pieces seemed overwhelming. Also, and even more importantly, I was in so much pain that I didn't want to put down my thoughts until I knew my recovery took a turn for the better. My physical therapist, Stephen, gave me four exercises to do that were not challenging. He observed that I was walking with my right foot out, so he suggested that I concentrate on keeping it straight. I was given the green light for water aerobics, and was walking Zora twice a day. I was very happy. Walking was not without pain, but I was walking and the last time I did water aerobics I actually was able to walk and push off of the wall rather than doing the dog paddle, like I did the first few times. Then it all went bad. The pain came suddenly...
The first couple of times I asked my surgeon about physical therapy, he said it wasn't necessary. He was quite definitive: "You don't need physical therapy." At my three month follow-up, after telling him I was frustrated with my inability to walk correctly, he finally gave me a prescription for PT in order to improve my gait. My first appointment was today, and by the first five minutes I developed a crush on my therapist. It isn't a romantic crush (although he is very cute): it is a crush on someone who listened to me and responded to my concerns, hopes, and questions. Here he is in an introductory video on YouTube. ( Click on the name below the photo. ) Stephen Mills, PT, DPT After brief introductions, it was clear that he read my chart. He asked me if I walked my daughter down the aisle at her wedding (one of my goals before surgery). He told me how great it is that I travel. He was talking to me face-to-face without a comp...