For those who want the Cliff’s Notes version or an alternate ending, scroll to the bottom. ‘Kay, for everyone else…this one’s for you. 

When last we left, Greta was meeting with Chad, the physical therapist and fireman in training. She has exacerbated her thoracic outlet from years of bad blogging posture.

After my first meeting with Chad, I was still doubtful of his ability to help me help myself. After all, I’ve spent a lifetime finding reasons not to work out. If he thought he could change my hardened habits with a wink, a smile and an ultra sound wand, he was sadly mistaken.

Still, somehow, when he called me the next day to see if I was sore from our last session, my knees melted just a little.

“What about setting up your next couple of sessions?” he asked.

It would be easiest to walk away now, I knew. I could tell him I was busy. The kids have soccer, ballet. I have to work. I’ll call him in a couple of days when I know my schedule. Then I just wouldn’t call. Sure, he might call me a few more times, maybe even chide or guilt me into coming back. But we’d both know it wouldn’t work. I’m sure I wouldn’t be the first client he’d ever had who disregarded doctor’s orders and blew him off. It wasn’t personal. There would be no hard feelings.

“How’s tomorrow at 2:00?” I found myself saying. Ha. Perfect. No way he could fit me in on such short notice.

“Great!” he said. “See you then.”

Dammit.

The next day, I found myself in Chad’s capable hands. He warmed the ultrasound jelly again and I’d like to believe he did that just for me.  I asked him how fireman training was going. I don’t remember his answer because I just kept thinking of this…

Lenny (the 86 yr old WWII vet) was there too, in the background doing the “Monster Walk” with a rubberband between his legs. Today, he sported green shamrock pajama pants that said, “Rub Me for Luck.”

“We’re going to take it a little easier today,” Chad said. “It sounds like you were pretty sore yesterday. Let me show you some easy stretches. They’re great for getting more range of motion in your shoulders. You can do them in bed even.”

Lawsie mercy!

“Great,” I said. Chad had me roll to my back and gently took my wrist in his hand.

“Up and over your head and all the way around,” he said, carefully rotating my arm. His grip was both soft and strong. “Ten of these then we’ll switch to the other side.”

“Ok.” At this rate, I thought I might do anything for him. Carefully, patiently, Chad took me through my shoulder exercises and we moved to some light crunches to help me strengthen my lower core. With each stretch and hold, I felt more at ease. This could work. He doesn’t make me feel stupid or uncoordinated. I think he really wants me to get better. He cares about my pain.

It was time to work the other side.  Chad waited, I slowly shifted on the massage table. The blanket underneath me fell a little and Chad was there to right it.  In an instant, everything changed. For days afterward, I found myself wishing I could have done it differently. Willed those next few seconds never to have happened. But they did. As I lowered my legs and struggled to a sitting position, there was a momentary lull in the PT room. Oh why couldn’t Lenny have picked that moment to ask Mrs. Pietrzak if she was wearing a bra?

*brrrrrggghfffft*

There was no mistaking the sound that came out of me. Yes people. It was an air biscuit, a backdoor breeze…a toot. I could have blamed it on the vinyl table, but I was wearing track pants. It wasn’t my fault. There was stretching and holding and flexing and yoga!

I don’t remember the rest of my session. I got through it somehow, I know. Would Chad ever be able to look at me again? Would it ever be the same between us? Would Mrs. Pietrzak feel lucky?

To be continued…

P.S. If you prefer an alternate ending…I also met Chad’s assistant, “Melissa.” Melissa put me on this contraption. I have no idea what the therapeutic purpose was, but here you go.

*Again, we pay homage Pioneer Woman