Due to insurance purposes, I switched physical therapy places. Why pay out the nose when you can just drive a little farther and go for free? Even when you factor in the cost of gas, it's still a better idea to go the extra mile...or ten. There's a big difference between free and $75 a visit.
My new physical therapist is some tiny lady that I could easily put in my purse. We sat down and I brought her up to speed on my recovery thus far, and the problems I'm still having. She did a strength assessment of my legs. Not surprisingly, my right leg still sucks. She tried to move my right patella around and it wouldn't budge. She surmised that I hadn't been doing patella mobility exercises, and I looked at her as though she was an Alien Booger for the planet Nose. Apparently, part of my PT regimen should have included such exercises to prevent the same thing from happening that caused me to have surgery in the first place.
Now, I want to go park a Ryder truck in front of my old physical therapy office. Bastards. Working out with the 70 year olds seemed like a good idea at the time. I should have known something wasn't right when part of my physical therapy involved an empty coffee can and a deflated beach ball. Reconditioning with common household garbage!
Fortunately, not all is lost and I have been given new instructions on what to do to get me back on the correct path to recovery. I still hate physical therapy, though. Today, Tiny Lady had me doing some sort of exercise with one lonely stair. It hurt, and I cursed her with the rage of an angry Muslim extremist. In my head, of course.
Whatever it takes to get me 100% in time for my cruise this fall. I don't feel like gimping around the ship, getting run over by some old person on a Rascal. Once was enough.