I have been going to physical therapy for about a month or so. My PT is a total mom. The way she talks reminds me of a special-ed kindergarten teacher. It is pretty funny because I am a grown man and she is saying things like "OK, now we're going to roll over on our tummy!" I might end up making a macaroni necklace for her when my program is complete.
The exercises are as painful as shitting out a chain mace. And make me feel super dignified, like waking up naked in a puddle of vomit on the bare hardwood floor of the hallway in an old, unheated house.
But they are working, and soon I will be lifting again.
