Physical Therapy today was wretched. I am not laughing anymore.
First off, I'm not laughing because I am no longer surprised by how ridiculously painful it is. I only started chuckling at one point when he gave me an extra unexpected push.
"What? What was that? WE HAD AN AGREEMENT I COUNT TO THIRTY THEN YOU STOP."
"Five second penalty," he shrugged. "You made a face at me; you get an extra five seconds."
"You stuck your tongue out at me. Five second penalty."
So I'm done being quiet and polite. I shrieked and yelped and was the noisiest person in the room.
He pointed out that when he extends my arm over my shoulder, I include the teens and the twenties and end at thirty, but when he bends my arm in the "L" of Agony over my head, I count from one to ten three times.
"I am in so much pain I cannot count like an adult. I can only count like a toddler."
On top of all that, I have taken to lying in a fetal position while they give me the electrode treatment. Soon I will drool and wet myself, see what they think about that.
On the positive side, he measured me and I can get to 175 degrees out of 180 when it comes to reaching my arm over my head. So there's that. And is that worth it? I can raise my arms up over my head and snap my fingers, and that's all Mom ever wanted.