Back to therapy I go

Physical therapy for my sore big toe. Sounds crippling, right?

It’s really the ball of my foot. I should call it by its medical name: sesamoiditis, with a trace of tendonitis, caused by so much enthusiasm for step aerobics that I participated before I had a chance to buy the proper shoes, compounded with an inability to stop going to the good Zumba class.

Two months later, my foot still bothers me. Can’t even walk the dog. Although the pain is only about a 3 on the pain scale, I realized how debilitating it is when I filled out the questionnaire asking how my disability has interfered with my physical activity. Do you know how skinny I would be right now if I had been able to continue going to step and Zumba 3-5 times a week?

I had great success with physical therapy a few years ago when I had a neck injury caused by letting my heavy DSL camera hang around my neck all day at a clam bake. Seriously. That’s what happened.

I liked that therapist a lot. I had several weeks of sessions where I was ultrasounded, stretched and taught to do exercises. They had me do the exercises right there in their little gym.They gave me free exercise bands and had Halloween candy on the counter.

That therapist moved to a larger practice by the time I needed therapy for my tight-shoulder-induced headache. For various scheduling and insurance reasons, I wasn’t able to see that therapist at the larger place. They also didn’t have me do the exercises there. They just showed them to me and sent me on my merry way. I didn’t like any of the exercises, because I felt myself tightening my neck and shoulders to do them. So I didn’t do the exercises. Then I quit going. My shoulders and neck are still very tight, by the way.

I returned to this place today for therapy on my foot. I thought there was a stronger likelihood of getting massaged and ultrasounded than being assigned annoying exercises, because really, what can  you do to strengthen the sesamoid bones?

I lucked into getting scheduled with one of the Big Guys. He put a carbon-fiber insert under my orthotic and told me I should flex the ball of my foot as little as possible. He had a physical therapy student ultrasound me underwater (just my foot), ice me and hook me up to an electrical stimulation dealie that I couldn’t feel at all, but was assured was working. The Big Guy told me to come back twice next week before my trip to New York and “we’ll try to get the pain to stop before you go.”

I’m in good hands, right? Except, when I check out, I find out that my appointments next week aren’t with the Big Guy but someone else. I remember now that this is my problem with this joint, and it annoyed me during my last series of physical therapy treatments. No continuity of care.

Published by Kari Neumeyer

Writer, editor, dog mom, ovarian cancer survivor

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