Therapy

I graduated today - or rather, I graduated again today.  After a month, 3 times a week, I have left my therapy.  For some reason my children laugh when I say I am in therapy. They have implied that I needed to be in therapy for some time.
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I suppose there is a need for clarification.  I have been in physical therapy for a month.  Yes, it was not fun.  Yes, I would go back if I were told.  No, it did not help my brain to be there.  I shall now explain.
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Last May or maybe June, my wife said to me,  "I'm going walking.  Do you want to come with me?"  The obvious answer for me is normally, "No."  But on this particular day I put on my shoes and dutifully paddled out the front door after her.  I wear my floppy hat on these excursions.
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As I have probably mentioned before, we live on a hill.  I have to walk up the hill to the road or down the hill to the lake.  They brought in 100 load of dirt to make us a pad for the house to live.  I walked up the hill.  About 3 steps down the road, my ankle had a pain.  I have normal pains all the time, muscle spasms, creaking knees, and all the typical bits that people my age endure.
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I continued down the road for a while.  The pain increased.  Maybe 50 to 100 yards down the path, I called it quits and went home to sit and ponder.  The pain in the ankle didn't go away.  Anywhere I walked, there was a sharp pain right under the left ankle bone.  Then, a few nights later that ankle pain reached up and grabbed me throwing me out of bed.  That was something.  At night when it kicked in, I rolled out of bed and stood on the foot, much like you might do if you have a cramp in your leg.  The pain would go away.
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You might be able to figure out why I blame my wife for my ankle pain.  No Walkie, no Painie.   She says I am the reason for the pain in her neck.  Suppose we are even.
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I figured out that if I laid on my left side with the left leg pulled up and the foot at a normal angle, the ankle didn't hurt.   I love that.  How often am I able to get "angle" and "ankle" written in the same sentence?  Prose must be my mistress.
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It became obvious that a trip to the foot doctor was in order.  I had seen him before about a tendon that needed stretching out.  Wore a nighttime boot for that affliction.
He looked at my swollen ankle and produced a hmmmmm worthy of any fine doctor.
Petty.  Did I mention it is Dr. Petty?   He must have a first name.  I forget.  He has great bedside manner, always smiling and informative.   It was decided that I would wear an ankle brace which had straps wrapping around the bottom of the foot.  I put on the brace - not accurate - his 12 yr old nurse put it on me.   Most nurse types in doctor's offices look to be 12 years old when you are my age.  Maybe she was 14.
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I wore that ankle brace from June until now religiously.   I even bought a 2nd brace online that was easier to strap on.  Every 2 to 3 weeks, it was back to Dr. Petty - pay the $10 co-pay - he would hmmmm and we would move on.   Then, something new, in September he sent me for an MRI on the ankle.  The MRI trip might be a blog all its own.
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The results came in.  There is a tendon that runs down the back of the leg and wraps around the outside of your ankle.  This tendon had split, vertically - up and down - not horizontally across.   It was taking its time healing.  But, now we knew what was wrong.   He showed me on the report where the tendon had already healed - but more was needed.  The pain had grown less as I started learning to ignore.   
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In October's doctor visit, the doc had been hit with the same problem.  He was wearing his ankle brace.  We bonded.   By November, his brace was off; he was healed.   Not me.  Finally in February, it was decided that I should go to therapy.   This was after December and January's shots into the ankle.  That is fun.  They spray it with a cold stuff so you can't feel the needle inserting. . . I went to Therapy - uh, physical therapy.
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This blog ( or blug, for the older visitors ) has gone on too long.   Tomorrow, I may write a missive on the P.T.   Not know for my physical attributes, physical therapy is a new adventure for the plump of heart.  Stay tuned.   It may take a week to get back to this.
luv ya,
mtz