Oh Therapy

My surgery was on a Thursday, and I reported for my first Physical Therapy appointment the following Tuesday. To say it was a bit rough might be the understatement of the year.

Needless to say, I literally wobbled into my appointment. I was doped up on Percocet, wearing a brace that went from my woo-hoo to my ankle, and I was on crutches. The scene was very reminiscent of when you spin a little kid around and around and then set them down and watch them walk. Only a little kid is far more graceful than I was.

I’m sure I was a vision in my stained t-shirt and my yoga pants. Not only was I wearing the same clothes that I left the hospital in, but I had been wearing them for 6 days straight. So, I’m sure there was an element of um, smell, that factored into the equation as well.

My bandage was unraveling, and was dangling out of my pant leg.

I wasn’t wearing any make-up, and I’m pretty sure my hair hadn’t seen a brush in weeks. I vaguely remember brushing my teeth, but I can’t be certain.

Just imagine a blonde Frankenstein/mummy, and well, you get the picture.

I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from my therapy since I could barely touch my finger to my nose.

And I certainly didn’t expect KEVIN.

It was right out of a movie. My therapist Brian walked into the room, and behind him walked in one of the most glorious specimens of the human male that I have ever laid eyes upon. I swear when he entered the room everything started happening in slow motion. He was bathed in a golden spotlight and the faint sounds of “I died in your arms tonight” by the Cutting Crew could be heard in the background. The subtle smell of Drakkar and khakis filled the room. When he smiled at me, the glare from his pearly whites temporarily blinded me. I’m pretty sure I may have even stopped breathing for a few minutes.

“Hey Mrs. P, this is Kevin, he is interning here, and I was hoping you would let him follow your case. This would be his first post-op patient therapy, and I think it would be great experience for him. What do you think?” Brian says.

Silence.

“Um, Mrs. P? Can you hear me? Are you OK?”

I shake my head to clear the fog, and I subtly wipe the drool from my cheek while simultaneously lifting my chin from the table. “Um, sure, that would be fine” I manage to stutter.

“Great, let’s get you started!”

I spent the next 20 minutes having my leg fondled by KEVIN. It was DREEEEEEEEAMY.

I don’t remember much after that point. I’m not sure how I got home. (But, I know that I wasn’t driving. Phew.)

I really think I am going to enjoy my physical therapy after all . . .