This morning I awoke to a painful, swollen knee.
Today was the start of my third week of physical therapy. My knee is supposed to get better, not worse. And it was getting better.
The therapist and I reviewed my weekend. We could not pinpoint anything for certain that could have caused it. My stretching exercises may have been performed a bit too exuberantly, perhaps. Maybe I should not have moved that loveseat to vacuum behind it on Saturday. Yes, I did go out Friday night with friends, but no, I did not wear high heels. Never do I wear high heels. And yes, I have done the ice massage twice a day as prescribed.
Grr. Taciturn thinks the PT is a waste of time; he is not persuaded that PT works at all. He has encouraged me to quit going, especially after he heard that my knee was swollen again. But what is the option if I do? Limp the rest of my life?
I refuse to roll over that easily. Walking, hiking and other exercise is a huge part of my life and I’m not about to give it up without a fight. Although I am limping today, I’m reassured by words I used to speak to my patients quite a bit: “Tincture of time. Things usually respond to tincture of time.”
Tincture of time and PT. I’ll go back tomorrow.