Let's Get Physical...Therapy, That Is

I have forgotten to mention that I have ten new friends.  We like to get together and work out, stretch and talk about our grandchildren.  We complain a lot about aches and pains and trade doctor referrals like Pokemon cards.  I'm talking about the ladies and gentlemen in my hip injury group at physical therapy.  I am the youngest "hip lady" by three or four decades, and I have learned an awful lot about Bingo, restaurants with early bird specials and how crappy the easy listening music from the 80s is for old people to listen to while they're working out.

"How do you kids listen to this stuff?"  Anne wrinkles her nose as the very hip and now sounds of Michael Bolton play at low volume in the background.  "Music these days is awful."

I really do like PT quite a bit.  Typically, I go in and do ten slow minutes on a stationary bike.  That's followed by twenty minutes of stretching and resistance exercises and then by some one-on-one time with my physical therapist, Joe.  This is typically how that goes:

"How are you doing today, Taryn?"
"I'm feeling okay, but that iliac crest thing is really hurting again."
"Hmmm.  Maybe if I hurt it worse, it will stimulate the muscle to fuse back to the bone.  Let me try poking at it with these metal tools. Then I'll attach electrodes to the muscle and give you shocks for fifteen minutes while you're covered with an ice blanket.  Sound good?"

I spend a good amount of time with my hip and butt pretty much exposed, which will be good if I ever want to get into the adult entertainment industry after all of this is over.  I have lost all shame.

The relationship between the patient and the physical therapist is an interesting one.  Things can get rather intimate, as seen in this picture I found on a US Government website for the public health.

If that purple-shirted guy goes any further up that thigh, this picture could be on a poster for "Gym Rats 4: Sweatier Than Ever."  And it looks like it would be a-okay with blue shirted guy if that went down.  I am not going to mention bulges in pants because my family reads this, but if you notice anything on your own, I can't stop you.

Anyway, it involves a lot of contact, rubbing, pain and tears as someone tries to bend your broken parts back into shape.  That's why it totally amazes me that many people at my PT place TALK ON THE PHONE as their physical therapist works them over.  I mean, seriously, if there's ever a time to call someone back, this would be that time.

See?  I've spent way too much time with octogenarians.  I'm complaining about the damn kids and their cell phones.  Next comes Bingo and 7:30 bedtime and admiring orthopedic shoes.  I can't wait!