My Own Gold

For the past week and a half, I have had nothing on my to-do list besides “watch the Olympics.” Sure, I’ve had to get up and go to work in between some of my favorite events, but fortunately we have TVs at the bank. Customer service has gone out the window; I don’t want to talk to anyone who isn’t talking about the Olympics. You need a debit card? Too bad, curling is on! I just can’t get enough of this stuff!

Of course, I can’t (and wouldn’t) really say that to a customer; and unfortunately, the world does not stop for 16 days just so we can all stay home and watch the Olympics on TV. No, while the athletes celebrate their victories in Vancouver, we all have to go to work, do the dishes, walk the dog, etc.

I must also continue to show up at physical therapy twice a week (and they don’t have a TV in there). This is my twelfth week – out of eight. That wasn’t a typo. I’m a little disheartened because the process is taking so long, but I continue to work hard and press on because, after all this time, I really am making progress.

It was just a few weeks ago that I wasn’t sure I was making progress at all. Martha and I had been trying to get my wrist to bend downward for weeks, and it just wasn’t happening. So, during an early Tuesday morning therapy session, I told her how worried I was about this. (You may remember “Pushing It,” a Blog I posted on January 25.) Within the next three days, I had doubled my wrist motion from 15 to 30 degrees. Finally, progress! But the goal has always been between 50 and 60 degrees (60 is how far down my left wrist goes), so we weren’t there yet.

However, that very difficult and painful day seems to have been a turning point for me. After that particular session, my wrist began to improve more and more with each new day. I used to hold onto a two-pound dumbbell; now I use the four-pounder. I hold my hand out over the edge of a table and let the weight stretch it down. When I do that with my four-pound dumbbell, my wrist goes as far as it’s supposed to – 100 percent of the way.

It’s what I can do on my own that really matters, though. I get heated up and stretched out, and then I get measured. When I have a doctor’s appointment coming up, Martha prints a “report card” showing where I started and where I am that day. The initial reading of my downward wrist motion was only five degrees. My most recent reading was 50. And for that, I received from Martha my first-ever gold star.

No, it’s not quite a gold medal, but I think that, when I handed my report card to the doctor, my pride rivaled that of any Olympic champion. “A gold star?” he said enthusiastically. “You know, Martha doesn’t give those out to just anybody.”

Nope, not just anybody. Me. A champion physical therapy patient.

Now this champion will never win a gold medal, but that gold star is enough for me.