Hitting the gym
Today I started physical therapy and I even drove myself to the appointment. The unlucky PT to have drawn my name turned out to be a cute 27 year old 2010 graduate. To his credit going over my medical history he didn’t flinch once. He kept a straight face even though his eyes were saying “Holy Hell!”. He seemed nervous with me so started off slow with him checking my heart rate frequently. My legs and arms are still weak from muscle atrophy from bed rest in the hospital. Now, I know that I may be checking in for another long hospital stay but I want to get as much strength back as I can while I’m on the outside. The PT asked me what my goals for therapy were. I told him that in March I was wearing 4 inch stilettos to work and running 3 miles in the evenings so I’d like to get back to that. He asked me how to spell stilettos.
We did leg lifts and arm exercises using a green band. Because of my shakiness he asked if I would consider aquatic therapy. I joked that he was just trying to get me in a bathing suit but he grinned surprised that the old cancer lady was flirting with him. Swimming is out for me because of the central line but I never miss an opportunity to be inappropriate.
I have a long way to go to get better and I may not get very far before I’m knocked down again but I have to keep moving forward, despite the unknowns.