PT magic

So far, so good. Doug, my new physical therapist, wrote that I am “progressing nicely” in my patient file yesterday -- my sixth appointment with him, post-spasm.

I’d been on medication for two weeks by the time Doug and I had our initial consultation and evaluation. Although I was pain-free -- for the first time since I can’t remember -- Doug said the offending muscle was still tight, something he set to correct with massage.

“I don’t believe in ultrasound. I’d much rather get my hands on you and work the muscles,” he said. And work them he did, very effectively. After my second visit, I successfully stopped taking Mobic, the anti-inflammatory drug.

During the past month, Doug has reviewed my home exercises, and gradually added others. If a new exercise targeted the same area as an old one, I adopted the newer version.

Massages focused in and around my right hip at each appointment until the muscles loosened to Doug’s satisfaction. By my fourth visit, I felt great. But, I didn’t know how much to credit Doug’s massages and the new exercises, since I was still on Amrix. And although I hated taking the muscle relaxant, I was afraid not to.

“Let’s stop the Amrix the night before your next appointment,” Doug suggested. “Then, if you’re in pain that morning, we can take care of it.”

Now, I’m coming up on one week, drug-free. No spasms. In fact, I feel pretty good! I still have some stiffness in the morning, but it’s nothing compared to the low-back pain I had accepted as my “new normal” within the past year.

My posture and gait have improved, too, if only my muscles would remember that. It’s strange how the body adjusts to chronic pain and discomfort. For awhile, I’ve been aware that my stride resembled a modified waddle -- like I was negotiating tires in an obstacle course – to accommodate my arthritic hip. With Doug’s help, I now feel more flexible and able to walk normally, something I need to consciously remind my muscles, lest I start quacking!

The next challenge is…[drum roll]…yard work. I have avoided doing anything remotely strenuous to prevent a recurring spasm, but Doug wants me to take the plunge. “I’d rather you go about your normal business so we can address any problems, rather than your calling me in pain after I’ve discharged you,” he said.

So, sometime between now and late next week, I’ll be donning my gloves to break up the weed "kegger" that has been taking over my garden. Wish me luck!