We move throughout our entire lives, but accidents can and do happen, and if we ever stop moving, it is very difficult to start moving again.
That is the place for physical therapists. They seem so kind and caring, but in my experience, the more they smile at you, the more pain you will feel! As a writer, a crafter, a part-time jewelry buff, and mom, I need both hands. Several years ago however, I had a devastating accident that changed my life.
As a child, I loved to go ice-skating, so as a middle-aged woman I thought nothing of attending a roller-skating party, and turning in the skates for rollerblades. I was feeling proud and capable, when a small child skated into my leg, tumbled, and hooked my skates to bring us both down. I foolishly tried to stop my fall, but shattered my right arm in the process. The pain thrust me spinning on to my back.
Off to the hospital, with X-rays, surgery, lots of meds, a metal plate, five screws, two metal pins, and several weeks of rest before my doctor finally removed the cast and pins and ordered me to start therapy. However, I had no movement, and I was told I would never even type again! I was petrified!
I never felt so much pain, nor experienced as much fear, as in those thrice-weekly physical therapy sessions. I was determined though, exercised every waking moment, at the table, in front of the TV, even Sunday mornings in the church pew. Results came slowly, but I kept going. It kept hurting, and I became addicted to therapy.
Actually that was probably the healthiest addiction possible. The painkillers had wrecked my stomach and dulled my head, so I quit those, but I kept exercising. Slowly, I realized that therapists were measuring my performance and progress. I was not satisfied, and I was frightened that they would quit me before I quit them!
A frank discussion with my doctor resulted in my demanding that he remove all the hardware he had left inside me. I knew it was hindering my progress, and I wanted my arm back. I wanted to use all five digits, to be able to touch my shoulder, and use my hand and arm to its fullest. A second surgery wound back the clock to start all over again.
However, my strategy worked! My performance improved, and after five-and-a-half months, I finished therapy. I was crestfallen, and, at the same time, elated. My hand could do everything it once did. Although my good wrist could flex a complete 180 degrees, my wounded wrist was limited to only 178 degrees. Still, that is pretty darn good, if I do say so myself. However, I was not done. I was just starting. I exercised all the way home. I kept working and did not quit.
Now, several years later, I still exercise my arm. I can do push-ups, paddle my kayak, carry my grandchildren, repair tiny jewelry pieces, and type stories! All things my doctor had told me I would never be able to do again! Meanwhile, I meet so many individuals who choose to give up, give in, or give excuses, asking their doctors to release them with less than the best results.
Physical therapists can work our bodies hard, but it is ultimately our choice how we respond. Through it all, I learned that I never want to give up or give in. I want to be the best I can be, and do the most I can do throughout my life. I hope being your best is a goal you would choose, too.
Barb Nadeau is the community relations manager for the Voluntary Action Center of DeKalb County. Barb has worked in television, radio, and print media, as well as in volunteer coordination and networking amongst non-profit social service agencies. She is a freelance writer and television host. Contact Barb at bvnadeau@gmail.com.