Showing posts with label physical therapy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label physical therapy. Show all posts

Saturday, February 22, 2020

What's goin' on: swimming lessons and physical therapy


I haven't had much time (or taken much) for the blog lately. It seems like there has been a lot going on, though it doesn't really take much for me to think there's a lot. It probably hasn't been that much of anything... other than a bit of physical pain, and mental anguish.

SWIMMING LESSONS
On the bright side, we have finished our 7-week swimming lessons! We missed one week, so it was really only six. However, I thought this a very worthwhile endeavor. I can actually say, my swimming improved dramatically in a month and a half!

While it's true we could have accomplished much the same without taking lessons, it's also probably true that we wouldn't have done it (without taking lessons). There's something about the commitment and discipline involved.

Other than the first night - when there was one other man - Jane and I were the only two students for the two teachers. So we basically each had private lessons every week.

I was finally able to get the front crawl/freestyle stroke down (and breathe at the same time!), as well as learn the backstroke, breaststroke, butterfly, and elementary crawl. And I/we can swim laps!!

My main goal in taking lessons was (1) to feel more confident that if I were somehow stranded in a lake I could keep from drowning (for awhile), and (2) to be able to lap swim. It is such good exercise, and I really want to start incorporating lap-swimming into my regular routine.

So, I was pretty happy about how this turned out. I can swim!

PHYSICAL THERAPY
On the not-so-bright side... there has been physical therapy. Ugh. For as positive as swimming lessons were, PT was at least that painful. Oh my gosh! I don't think I have ever experienced pain quite as intense as the scraping on my right foot, ankle and calf. I would literally break into a sweat.

I went every Monday and Wednesday for three weeks. Finally, this past Wednesday, we agreed that maybe I needed a break - if not to stop altogether. Not only was I not improving in the original areas I started therapy for (left knee, right ankle), but it seemed to be causing more damage elsewhere. Plus I simply couldn't stand the pain any longer.

I do have to admit, when she discovered the tender areas on my foot and calf, the therapy was effective in cleaning them up by scraping. It also helped that I started ice massaging my foot and ankle at home, and I learned a ton of good exercises which should help with running. That is, if I can return to running...

So the plan is, I am going to take a week or two off from therapy, and if I think I need to start back in again, I have an appointment already made. Otherwise, I am basically done with it. Whew!

I have to say, this was as mentally grueling as it was physically. I felt like a big baby writhing around on the table during the scraping. But I honestly have bruises in several spots on my right leg! I would dread every Monday and Wednesday because I knew it would not only hurt, but it would damage my pride. And... who knows if I will be able to run again regularly... So, it's a little depressing, and I'm a little stressed about the possibility of losing my identity and pretty much the only thing in life I felt like I could do. We'll see...

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So, that's pretty much all that's been going on around here...

Thursday, February 13, 2020

When it sucks


This is a picture of my right calf. At physical therapy yesterday they used suction cups. Apparently it's called 'cupping therapy.' Webmd says,
"Cupping therapy is an ancient form of alternative medicine in which a therapist puts special cups on your skin for a few minutes to create suction. People get it for many purposes, including to help with pain, inflammation, blood flow, relaxation and well-being, and as a type of deep-tissue massage."

My PT used a pump to attach the cups. It didn't hurt, but I guess these marks will be around for a few days. It's WAY better than dry needling as far as I am concerned!

Actually, PT did not suck yesterday. It was much better than Monday. I said I didn't want anymore needles, and didn't do as much scraping, but concentrated more on my posterior tibial tendon. This is what I told the doctor at FWO I thought my problem was. He pretended not to hear me (I guess). My PT seems to agree with me though, as it is one super sore tendon.


So, yesterday I got a calf and foot massage, the cupping, then I did a series of exercises to strengthen the foot, ankle, calf and glutes. I tried to pick up a towel with my toes for several minutes, did some balancing maneuevers, resistance band stuff, and jumped around a bit (plus a few things I'm sure I am forgetting). I was tired, and a little sore, but not near like my Monday session was.

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Our swimming lesson went pretty good last night too. Aside from the first class, we have still been the only two pupils. Last night the female instructor was absent, so the guy instructor kind of just let us swim laps. He gave a few pointers here and there, I suppose to justify his getting paid and all. I made every lap without stopping, and for the first time was able to do the front crawl (free style) and actually breathe! That's something I'd struggled with since the first night, and it felt good to finally find a rhythm.

The only bad thing is... I can't seem to fall asleep when we get home from swimming lessons. They don't get over until 8:15 pm (which is my normal bedtime), and then I take a shower, and it's after 9 before we get home. I feel plenty relaxed, but I suppose the physical exertion that late is keeping my endorphins going strong. I think it was after 1 am before I fell asleep. The alarm comes awful early at 3:50 am. It's not near so bad when I'm sober though. As Warren Zevon said, "I can sleep when I'm dead" (not really, because I need my sleep, but...).

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We had snow last night - just a couple inches - and it was pretty pretty this morning. It still is as I sit at work watching the flakes float to the ground in downtown Fort Wayne. Not a bad day again. So... I'm waiting for a catastrophe, ya' know.

Tuesday, February 11, 2020

The losing end


One of my all time favorite album covers is from Neil Young's second studio album, Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere. I'm not sure what it is about the picture, but it was burned into my mind at an early age and has stuck with me. The album contains four of his signature hits: Cinnamon Girl, Down by the River, Cowgirl in the Sand, and the title track, all of which were written in a single day when Neil had a 103F fever. It was also the first album with his longtime backing band Crazy Horse.

This morning I woke up thinking of a lesser-known song from the album though: The Losing End (When You're On). It's a simple song with a country sound. There's really nothing spectacular about it. But... sometimes we can feel like that, can't we?
It's so hard for me now
But I'll make it somehow
Though I know I'll never be the same
Won't you ever change your ways
It's so hard to make love pay

When you're on the losing end
And I feel that way again
If you disregard the lines I crossed out... it's a refrain of mine right now.

I had my second physical therapy treatment yesterday and came home near defeated. Not only was I physically beaten (and my leg and foot bruised), but I was even more mentally and emotionally drained. I hadn't been that low in a long time.

I couldn't stand the pain of the dry needling. The fact that she hit a blood vessel or something didn't help. Apparently the PT was taking the scraping out on me for that. I have literally not been in so much pain in as long as I can remember. She honestly had to get me a sweat towel because I was perspiring so bad!

As I said, the mental anguish was likely worse than the physical pain. Therapy hurt worse than it did to run, and it seemed that particular identity is become more distant with each step.

So, after having surgery in December for this stupid belly button hernia... my blood pressure is out of control, my legs won't recover from the last marathon, we are yet to find a church home, I still have no inclination towards a different job, the situation with my parents continues to get more stressful, and... "...I know I'll never be the same..."

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This morning I read from 'Common Prayer: A Liturgy For Ordinary Radicals' something Bernard of Clairvaux (a 12th century Cistercian reformer) wrote:
"The first step of pride is curiosity. How does it show itself? Here is an example. There stands a monk who up to this time had every appearance of being an excellent monk. Now you begin to notice that wherever he is, standing, walking or sitting, his eyes are wandering, his glance darts right and left, his ears are cocked. Some change has taken place in him; every movement shows it. These symptoms show that that monastic's soul has caught some disease. One who used to watch over his own conduct now is all watchfulness for others."

I've never considered myself a prideful person. Though I suppose if I am the one defining it, I would never define it in terms of myself. Especially if I were full of pride.

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And so my mind meanders to Jesus' words in Matthew 16:25, "For anyone who keeps his life for himself shall lose it; and anyone who loses his life for me shall find it again."

Hmm... maybe losing isn't all it's cracked down to be. Perhaps, when you're on the losing end, you are actually on your way. To somewhere...

I don't know.

Wednesday, February 05, 2020

Let's get physical... therapy


I finally broke down and decided to give physical therapy a try. The first session involved an assessment, followed by Dry Needling, and then Scraping. Yes, it hurt as bad as it sounds!

After injuring my ankle last summer while training for my last marathon, and dealing with the lingering discomfort ever since, I decided it was maybe time to do something. I saw an orthopedic doctor in January, and he referred me to physical therapy.

I waited a couple weeks before starting therapy for two reasons. For starters, I was honestly just kind of bummed (maybe even stunned) by the diagnosis. Mid-foot arthritis sounded a little too ominous for me. I was hoping for something easy, with a clear path back to pain-free living and running again. However, I also wasn't too excited about the prospect of physical therapy in general. It doesn't have a fun ring to it as far as I'm concerned.

There is actually a physical therapy office right inside the Y where I work. So at least I don't have to travel far. I set up my first appointment for this past Monday. The next hour was... yowza...*- a little more painful than I expected.

My PT agreed with me that she wasn't sure about the arthritis diagnosis either. She also admitted she had no idea what was causing my ankle pain. She had me do some different exercises and stretches, moved my foot all around, felt around on my legs. Whether it is related or not, she determined - and I agreed - that my right calf was very tight (and quite tender). She kneaded my calf with her fingers for a bit, then got out the NEEDLES!

I had heard of Dry Needling, but never experienced it. This particular PT uses Trigger Point Dry Needling with Electrical Stimulation. It involves sticking needles very similar to acupuncture needles into the muscle, then connecting electrodes to each and running a slight electrical current between them.

I can't say it really "hurt" when she stuck the needles in. There was a definite dull sort of pain involved though. When the electrical stimulation began, it had my foot hopping about with each pulse. Again, not downright painful, but not at all comfortable either.

Then the scraping... Ugh! All I knew about scraping was how terrible it sounds, and literally everyone who's had it done says it is painful. After reading a little about 'The Graston Technique'... it does make sense. However, it still hurt like heck!

Anyway, the PT gave me some ankle exercises I am to do every day, as well as continued work with resistance bands that I was already doing to strengthen my glutes. I was plenty sore as I left the office, though I did walk another 30 minutes on the treadmill afterward. That night it was really sore. However, by the next afternoon it felt fine again.

So, that was it for therapy this week. Starting next week I am to go twice a week, maybe for three weeks. We will see. I'm not looking forward to going back. I do hope it does some good.