10 hours ago
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
My New Hell-Day
A few weeks ago I fell at work. One second I was walking along and a half second later my lips were kissing the carpeting (and not my preferred kind of carpet). I was able to get up and carry on for the rest of that day but my moment of klutziness resulted in my knee getting slightly fucked up.
Enter the workman's comp dog and pony show.
WC sends me to THEIR Doc. To date I've seen him twice. My knee isn't improving. Pain, swelling and mostly it's hampering my style of Mrs J's pursuit of happiness and I can't have that happening. Don't worry, the bum knee isn't stopping ALL of that activity.
The WC Doc prescribed 6 visits, twice a week of physical therapy.
The WC insurance lady must be a better doctor than their WC Doc because the prescription was changed to 4 visits, once a week.
Last week was my first visit to the physical therapist. I had imagined I was either going to get a large women with a uni-brow named Olga or a sweet young thing proudly showing her never ending cleavage. I got neither one.
My PT is middle age, shorter than me, within her optimum weight, nice lady and she fucking hurt me! First she checked the range of motion and was surprised at the fact that I couldn't swing my leg and foot over my head. Then while I was on my back on a cushy table she began to massage the affected area. Now that felt good for the first minute or so then she started to massage deeper and then painfully deeper. As her fingers burrowed around my knee I held back my tears by holding my breath. The therapist is an Olga in disguised.
After Olga showed me the stretches and exercises I'm suppose to do all week I thought I was done. Pffft, hardly! I was back on the table when she told a tech assistant to roll out the electrode machine a.k.a. the torture machine. Shortly after that announcement I was all hooked up and for the next 15 minutes electrical shocks (impulses) were searing through my knee. The tech ass asked me if she could get me a magazine to read. As sparks were shooting out of my eyes I politely declined her offer.
All week long I've seen and felt a big change in my knee pain and movement. I.can.barely.walk and I've begun hating Wednesday's with the same passion as Monday's.
Labels: shit happens