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8/24/2009 ok, so i gots me some knee issues. i had a lil basketball incident ~June 1st (i lost), hyper-extended it pretty good, and apparently did a number on it. i thought resting it for a couple months would help…but, then realized when i sit with my legs crossed, i still need to manually move my leg to stand up. i guess resting it wasn’t really do’n it for me.
i finally sucked it up...hit the dr…he thought meniscus tear…MRI said ‘no’…then sent me to PT. i’ve just started my PT appointments as of last week (need to go twice a week for at least 6 weeks). fun stuff. PT guy thinks it's a tendon tear that didn't show up on the MRI bc 2 months is apparently too long to evaluate via MRI(?)...whatev...either way, PT it is.
this is where it actually becomes interesting. i shall introduce you to Sam. he is my PT guy. he is the one driving me to get better…though, he has no idea how much he’s driving me…bc he’s super weird, super sketchy, super squishy (relevant later on), and i’m pretty sure he’s hitting on me…i shall elaborate with some of the conversations we had during my 2nd appt this past week…
- Sam: “so, i was thinking more about you last night…i mean about your condition…not about you…but, about your knee specifically...which is actually about you...” <my internal monologue: “ewww…make the awkwardness stop.”
- Sam: “ever play 20-questions?” me: “nope.” Sam: “ok, there’s a guy eating in a restaurant on the pier – he orders condor. the meal shows up, he takes one bite…spits it out…runs out of the restaurant…jumps into the water and drowns himself. what happened?” me: “seriously?” Sam: “ok – i'll tell you the answer bc this is a hard one. the guy was trapped on a mountain with his wife and friends. his wife died. they were all still stranded there a while, so the friends decided to catch a condor that was flying around so they could have something to eat. so, now that the guy is no longer stranded...he's now in the restaurant, he ordered condor for dinner, he realized that’s not what he ate while on the mountain…instead he realizes he ate his wife, so he then decided he had to drown himself bc of the guilt.” me: “um, that’s disgusting. you tell people this story?” Sam: “oh yah, it’s a good one, eh?” me: “dude – that’s not right. you realize that’s not normal, right?” Sam: “ok – i got another one for ya…” me: "i think people need to be drunk to listen to these." Sam: "ha! so, here's another one...think comic book with this one..." <my internal monologue: "if only someone would come stab me in the ear drums so i don't have to listen to anymore of these stories.">
- Sam: “your husband got lucky and scored what most guys want, right?...the athletic girl?” me: <in my uncomfortable, awkward way> “he scored somethan aiiight.”
- Sam: “most people look at me and can tell i’m athletic, which i’m sure you can obviously tell…but, i’ve had a couple injuries here and there, so it has been tough…"<my internal monologue: “keep it together girl…nod and don’t look shocked that mr. squishy is trying to pretend he’s a pro athlete.”
so, anyway…that's what i got after two appointments…and i've got at least 6 more weeks to go! why do people need to be so weird? i've decided this guy traps people there...they can't leave for an hour...he tortures them with these stories. it's debatable which is worse - the actual PT or being trapped by Sam, right now i'm leaning toward Sam. if i wasn’t motivated enough to get better on my own…i now have the motivation of getting away from weirdo Sam to thank for what i expect to be an exponentially speedy recovery. stay tuned for more nail-biting 20-question stories...ga-vomit.
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