Having knee surgery is a precursor to this lovely thing called physical therapy. And by lovely I mean pain inducing torture by the happiest, cutest, most mellow creature known to man.
My first “let’s start it easy” session began with a simple background story as to the origin of the injury that led me to hobbling on a pair of crutches.
I’ve started leading with a very dead pan “Oh that. I injured the knee saving the life of a drowning child.” Not because it isn’t true but because I am since finding humor in people’s expressions when I say it. Since my overweight and slow appearance clearly scream of a more “I fell down stepping off the curb” type of story.
Story told and it’s time to get up on the table and reveal my wrinkly, starting to get hairy, weak leg. I might mention now that I am surrounded by elderly visor and track suit wearing patients clearly able to kick my ass should a battle commence.
Once upon the table it is time to bend the knee. You know. The knee that is now operated by some angel of heaven’s ligament? Yep. That’s the one. And we want to get that sucker to 90 degrees. And that excruciating pain you feel? That’s just right. You know you have fluid and swelling and the such.
I’m slightly entertained by the leopard print wearing elder of mine, who if we are being honest could not kick my arse in any kind of fight, being instructed on how to do a proper hip thrust by her physical torturist. (Up and off and hold for 5 if you are wondering)
So I get a bit offended when she starts smirking at me as I gasp and realize the electrodes attached to my thigh are now pulsating and firing up my muscle. “Does that hurt?” I am finding out is just code for “If it hurts it’s working.”
The best part of physical torture is having my leg out of the brace and feeling the sweet sweet freezing ice gel working to relieve some of the damaged progress we have accomplished in this first session.
The session they say is the easiest.
Live, Love, Teach 
How do you do this? I’m one of those people who shrink at the idea of anyone having to go through physical torture, so, you can imagine my surprise when I found myself smiling as I read about your excruciating pain. Trust me, it doesn’t mean I’m insensitive or don’t love you. It simply means you are a kick-arse writer.:-)
I feel for you, Kim. I had neurosurgery in 2007 and was unable to start PT immediately because I needed a few month to heal. Those sessions were the pits. Hang in there, Kim. You’ll get through this and will be stronger as a result.
I helped my mom during her recuperation from knee replacement when she was in her mid-seventies. She was one determined lady through that grueling physical therapy. She was so serious, I doubt she would have appreciated the humor- but since I inherited the same arthritis she had, I imagine knee surgery might be in my future, and I will have to find the humor. I just hope I inherited her iron will to go with it! Following the recommended schedule for using the “ice machine” she had was really key to making it through. Best wishes- know you will make it through with your good attitude.
Being a graduate of ACL reconstruction myself, I was cringing with you as your very descriptive piece reminded me of my Physical Torture, I mean Therapy, so long ago….the good news is that it isn’t forever…the bad news….that is the easiest appointment:(
You got this though…and in no time you will be running through the halls!
Is it weird that I really loved Physical Therapy? Apparently I have an inner desire for torturing myself. I love the Stim machine! I love the smell of Biofreeze and the tingling it sends through your injured parts. When you have to take an ice bath I will feel bad for you. That is the literal worst. It might be Hell on Earth, actually.
Kim, I do believe your will and humorous twist in writing about your physical torture will get you through this!! “I might mention now that I am surrounded by elderly visor and track suit wearing patients clearly able to kick my ass should a battle commence”…had me laughing! You got this Kim!
I can’t imagine having knee surgery and the recovery! Hang in there. And don’t underestimate old women in animal print. They’re usually the most feisty 🙂
Kim, I laughed out loud as I read this…and then I stopped because it felt wrong…so wrong. The wrinkly, starting to get hairy, weak leg. The physical torturist. The leopard print wearing elder. The falling down off the curb story. All funny stuff! I can’t imagine the pain you’re in, never having gone through PT myself, but I do think it’s a good thing that you are able to laugh in spite of it.