Turning a Corner

When I left therapy on Monday, I could barely walk. My knee locked with each step and refused to bend for the next. My therapist had to help me across part of the floor. At the beginning of the session, my therapist had smeared a mixture of beeswax and mineral oil over my scars and preceded to inflict the Graston technique.

Basically, he took a dull scalpel and rubbed it back and forth over the scarring as quickly as he could. I’m sure you’re wondering if it hurt. Well, none of your beeswax! I mean, of course it’s your business because you’re kind enough to be here, reading my blog.

Yes, it hurt! Then he instructed me to lie on my stomach while he scraped at the back of my knee. Apparently, this is a very ticklish spot for me. Despite the also-present pain, I could not keep the giggles in. I was able to keep from kicking him in the face, but that was about it. “Okay,” he said, “that’s not going to work.”

Hmm …. maybe I’ll laugh every time to get out of it.

So we did the normal workout after that and I limped home. But Tuesday I could walk almost normally. In fact, several times I would move without remembering I’d had surgery. Wednesday was even better! By the time I went back on Thursday, I was dreading the treatment while hoping he would do it again because the results were so amazing.

I warmed up on the exercise bike, he scraped and I tried not to laugh or cry, and we did the normal workout. Then he handed me a weighted ball and took me over by the trampoline. What??

I balanced on my “bad” leg, threw the ball toward the middle of the tipped personal trampoline, and caught it without touching the other foot to the floor. I was quite proud of myself.

Scott started sidling across the room. WHAT?? Next thing I know I’m scooting sideways from one end of the building to the other as if I was guarding someone in basketball.

But when Scott walked over with a jump rope, all I could think was DOUBLE WHAT?? Despite my body not jumping even once in the last seventeen weeks, I was able to remember how. After a few tries. Then he made me try again–this time holding the rope!

I grabbed those plastic handles, positioned the rope behind me, arced the rope around my body, and–I couldn’t jump. Ooohhhkkaaaay. I smiled, flipped the rope back again, and repeated the prep. But it hit the front of my shoes since they never left the floor. I wished I could have asked everybody to not look, but I decided to try again. This time my brain was able to put it all together!

From limping to jump roping! Thanks, torturous Graston!