Are We Having Fun Yet?

So today was my first trip to PT and OT. I figured they would have me do exercises with my elbow and massage and electrical stimualtion on my back....I'm so naive.

So I start with OT on the elbow, I have ultrasound (tingling fingers and all), then she massages my elbow and then she does electrical stimulation...all this time I'm sitting there relaxing being pampered and thinking, "wow, this is the life, no exercises or stretching". I'm just doing a bunch of sitting and I have no problem sitting on my ass, in fact I'm pretty good at it.

Yeah, I should have known better. Now it's time for PT and I have the only freaking sadist in the building. I have a bum elbow and a sore back and they want me to start cold and do some stretching exercises.

Ok, lay on this big bed thing in front of God and every man and woman in the whole world (yes, this is a therapy place in a store front) and contort myself into a pretzel...and be sure to smile so the people outside don't think we're torturing you (physical torture/PT, coincidence, I don't think so.)

So first I do some leg lifts on both sides, then some pelvic tilts (I was wondering if I was going to work on kegels next) then lifting my butt all the way off the table at which point I'm wondering if you guys mentioned to the therapist I'm practicing for a new porn movie. Is it horrible I'm thinking, "hmm, what is this guy thinking right now?"

Unsurprisingly, I managed to blow the count somewhere in the middle of the pelvic tilts and I said, "we'll call that 10." At which point the guy gave me holy hell and told me I need to do the counting myself.

Between concentrating on not falling off the table, wondering if every guy in the joint is getting a good view of my big bippy while I'm doing the knee to the chest bends and trying my hardest not to 'toot' I have to say counting was pretty much the last thing I was thinking about. I was very nice and didn't tell the f*ckwad to make himself useful instead of sitting there staring off into space and count for me.

I must have some look when I get to the point right before I pass out because people always ask me, "are you ok?" You guys know me of course I said a snotty "yes" to the sadistic moron (yes, he's my favorite PT so far and of course all my appointments are scheduled with him).

So for all my troubles I get to ride a stepper...it's a recumbant, weirdest thing I've ever seen but I did manage to go for 10 minutes without a stroke or heart attack, yea me!!

Ironically, the doofus asked me, "Melissa, do you exercise at home?" Hmm, did you get a good look at my lard ass when I walked in? Exercise to me is walking from the family room to the kitchen to get a snack and back to the family room to land on the couch....and I do that as little as possible.

In all honesty, I'm in good shape for the shape I'm in (round is a shape), which makes me kind of happy with myself....now if this therapy just gets me to start working out again I will be a happy camper. Why can't I at least get some eye candy to oogle while I'm working out? You know besides the 80 year old man with an oxygen tank?

Oh and btw, I have figured out why they put those mirrors around the gym. It's so you can see the funny monkey faces you make while working out and then when you're at home you know your doing the exercise right if you manage to score the same face.

Only 97 more visits to go...but who is counting?