Today, I drove myself in to PT because my husband went in the senior van to Portland for the follow-up on his foot that was operated on May 16.
It's just a mile into town. What a nice day and I felt kinda good, you know? Like someone kind of free and able to go where I wanted to go.
Well, I didn't WANT to go to Physical Therapy, but I did. My history with PT has been such to create an avoidance within me to this sort of thing. But Dr. B in NY wanted me to have this, so I'm doing it. Or trying it.
We live in a small town. I just picked up our new phone book, all 12 pages of it, plus 16 pgs of yellow pages/businesses. It's nice to be just a mile from nice medical types in our little hospital, everything very low key. The PT place is a room inside the hospital and crowded into it are three curtained-off rooms for private consultations, I guess. A few stainless steel vats and tubs for icing, warm water, whirlpool, I don't know? One large, flat table/bed thing...a couple of large rubber balls, and one exercycle. All very high tech.
Rich, the therapist, is as nice as can be. Gentle and a great listener. I explained all of my weird stuff and he genuinely showed interest. Then, he began by giving me a few things to do, SO minor and low key, you would not think they could do any good whatsoever. Or any harm.
He worked a bit on my posture, and then asked me to do some rotating of my shoulders. OH, dear, that caused stabs of pain at about the C4 or 5 level. So Rich said, forget that, just lift your shoulders a few times.
Adjusting everything he suggested downward to my level, he told me to hold my chin level and then sort of glide my head forward, keeping my neck still. And back. Cue the music "Walk Like an Egyptian" here.
I did that twice.
Remember that. I did that little 1 inch manuever twice.
I liked Rich a lot, he really had some good points. I told him that I notice when I stand, that my hips sort of rotate forward and my belly sticks out. Then, standing with my brace on, my posture is very good. He said that is because without the collar, my body is trying to find the position that will balance and hold up my head, since I have no use in my ligaments. I thought this made a lot of sense.
Very honoring, gentle man.
Next, I drove to the post office, where I parked in the handicapped spot and checked the mail. Only got the electric bill.
Well, there I was in our big, exciting town alone in the truck, the world was my oyster! What to do? I drove a couple of blocks over the Senior Citizen's Center.
Wow, everything was 50% off! I got two shirts for summer, 4 glasses that will be so perfect to make lattes at home with; 2 glasses with wild birds etched into them with silver rims that I intend to frosty-up in the freezer and pour half an O'Doul's into sometime. A great find were two matching light fixtures, hanging type, leaded glass, older and very Craftsman style, both for only $2.50! A little dark green bud vase. Life was good!
But I was pooped from my big excursion, so I drove the one mile home, cinched up tight in my Vista brace. Passing the little trail along the river that I keep wanting to go for a walk down, but never have the oomph to do it. Didn't have it today, either.
At home, the phone rang from the dog rescue folks up north in the city where I'll be going tomorrow for my new Johnson CTO. We are going to adopt Mickey, a Dachshund mix, sweet little guy who had belonged to some fruit pickers but when they moved to another orchard, they left Mickey. The foster mom told me Mickey is bi-lingual. Hola, Mickey!
[Note, to those who follow this blog, we never did get a look at Speckles. He is still at the rescue, but we can't drive down there, and they would not lower the adoption fee anyway. At $150, it was too steep for retired, disabled folks. I think it was meant to be, Mickey is more the breed of Quincy. And Quincy really, really needs a buddy to play with!]
This evening, I started up with some yucky symptoms. My skull base hurts badly. It's not muscular, it's from whatever is misaligned and rubbing up against whatever it's not supposed to! And it hurts and is scary. I took a Percocet and am icing it.
But worse, the swallowing issue is very bad! This is, as you readers have heard me say before, brainstem compression stuff. And all because I did 2 little one-inch manuevers, which, by the way, I'm never going to do again.
Eating soft food for supper, the food sits at the back of my throat and isn't gagging me at all. What makes it down into the pharynx is moving very slowly, painfully slow. While at the same time there is that lump going microscopically slow, there is the sensation of the food up at the top of the entrance to the pharynx. I know what I have to do and just wait for things to move down to where they are supposed to. This has nothing to do with not chewing enough, nor with the consistency of the food.
My throat is sore like I have the flu. And jagged, lancinating pains light up here and there, like in a hand, or a foot, or my side. Compressed, angry nerves that are asking me, "What were you thinking?"
Also, the secretary from the PT office called me to say that work comp authorized me for ONE visit to the physical therapist. One visit. Well, maybe that's good of them to be so generous, it's already killing me anyway.
Tomorrow, or soon, I'll post some "Meet Mickey" photos.
And life goes on.
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