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Yesterday at 10 am, my friend picked me up, and I became an official member of the Physical Therapy Club. My husband made a joke about how this must be a sign of aging. I used to go shopping or dancing with my friends in high school; now we go to physical therapy together.
I had no idea this world exists! I walked into the building without crutches because my doctor gave me a flexible brace instead of the one I got the day of my injury at the hospital. (One week ago today.) The room where physical therapy takes place is huge — there were over 50 staff and patients altogether. Since I live in a small town, I saw half a dozen of my friends there.
“So, what are you here for?” we asked each other. Back pain, neck pain, recovery from knee injuries. One friend who is 7 months pregnant could hardly walk. “I ran in the Peachtree Road Race,” she admitted, which is a 6-mile marathon on July 4th. “I shouldn’t have done that, I guess.”
Except for the horrible pain I had to go through, I’m looking forward to my twice-weekly social visits in the next month. Aging is not so bad, when we go through it together.
LOL – you are hilarious! Humor in the midst of pain – it’s beautiful I tell you!
2127 days ago
[...] Instead, I’ve been banished from the fitness scene and have replaced my jaunts to Curves with our local Physical Therapy Club, a happenin’ social network that is most definitely a sign of aging. Are there any of you out there who are also getting one-on-one therapy for your aches and pains? I must admit, it’s nice to have someone ask about how I’m feeling — even though it’s my left knee that’s the subject of interest. [...]