Slow Change

For the past six weeks, I've been working out some back problems with physical therapy.  I was in pretty poor shape when I started- my back muscles were guarding to such an extent that it was next to impossible for me to roll from my back to my side without grimacing in pain.

At that point, my only goal was to feel better by April 4- in time for Spring Break.  The student intern who saw me at my first appointment assured me that wouldn't be a problem.  I can't say I believed him back then, but I think that's just because I was in so much pain.

Who could have ever guessed how my world would change over the course of six weeks?  Certainly, not me.

Over the course of the last six weeks school has closed.  My student intern has left and will be one of those students who graduates without a graduation ceremony.  I'm no longer running to an appointment after school- with my wide-open schedule I'm more likely to be there around noon each day.  There are fewer people sharing the therapy space.  Just last week my therapist called to change my appointment so she could spread out her patients.  She used to see two people at a time.  The silver lining of the pandemic is that I am her only patient so I get a whole bunch of individual attention.

Over the last three weeks, I've often questioned if showing up for therapy was the wisest decision.  Every time I've gone in I've watched as my therapist disinfected anything that was touch by me or anyone else.  And so, I've continued going.

Today I walked in and found all the therapists, and many of the patients, wearing masks.  It was my last appointment and I was glad about that.

My back?  It feels good- just as promised six weeks ago.