When I made the appointment, I was asked by the very nice ladies in reception if I had a preference of therapists. "Somebody not perky," I growled.
After the giggling died down, they looked at each other and said in unison, "Josh."
So yesterday, I met Josh. He's a fairly pleasant fellow, and despite my fear that he is one of the dreaded Morning People, I wasn't filled with hatred and loathing. Well, not much.
After an initial assessment, in which I discovered that I really do not know how to "activate my quadriceps" without getting other muscles involved, Josh gave me homework.
[NB: If one wishes to skeeve out a physical therapist, one should bend one's less-that-well-behaved knees slightly until a loud popping or cracking noise occurs. Seriously. That's all I did. Josh looked like I'd just dropped a spider down the back of his shirt. Okay, not a spider. Maybe an ant. Heh.]
Now I have to go to physical therapy twice a week for four to six weeks. I can handle this. I think. No, I'm sure. I'm sure I can handle this. I'm just not sure I can handle...
See, Josh isn't available for all of my appointments. I'm fine with this. I'm not COTFU in this situation. Some of my appointments had to be scheduled with the PT assistant. I'm fine with that. But when I looked up the information on LaDonna, PT Assistant, I was less fine.
LaDonna is blonde and [shudder] perky-looking. She's a former competitive gymnast. She states in her bio:
I believe the most valuable gift I can give a patient is the knowledge and
tools needed to manage their symptoms and rehabilitation program independently,
at home. I also focus on caring for the whole person, not just a body part.
Gah. I have no idea if I can deal with this.
Damn perky people.