Physical Therapy

You how you sometimes obsess about something, imagining the worst, expecting it and then ... nothing comes true at all?

That is how the first of the PT visits went.  I was imaging the worse all weekend long, that muscle bound goliath of a woman was going to wring my ankle like a chicken's neck.  I was unsure how I could endure it - without my old nature.  Yeah, old Kris could be hurt but pain was completely ignorable, if I wanted it to be.  Very handy when having a root canal and the nerve killer had failed to take.  Eh, whatever, it is only pain.

I even had practiced my mooing so I could be a reasonable smart ass when the chicken started to die!  Okay my sick demented mind, I know ...

But, unexpected was that the treatment was nothing more than the creation and fitting of a foam brace to support the foot, ankle and leg to the knee.  Then layered with six bands of varying strengths of pull.  In all a big nothing.

Oh make no mistake, it is painful but I still seem to be able to manage that pain's existence out of my mind.  So, no worries right?  Well tomorrow we do this all over again with the added enjoyment of wring my foot, ankle and knee out - then back into the foam cast again.

I really hope this works, she believes that the foot should almost be normal sized once the excessive fluid is dealt with.  Well normal is relative - how many have Sasquatch size feet after-all as their old size!

Yahoo, there might be a real shoe in my not so distant future!