PT Graduation Day

Me and my shoulder are winging it after today. I graduated from physical therapy after making my last visit this afternoon. No, my shoulder is not perfect. But the two of us are ready to go it on our own - exercising at the YMCA and at home - working to strengthen my wienie noodle arm.

I'm going to miss Christine Young-Denny MPT and the folks at Penn Physical Therapy. It's not a fancy place. I picked it two years ago when my right shoulder froze because it's close to my office - right across the freeway, near Lutheran Hospital. The people there are very friendly - especially Tammy at the front desk. She reminds me of Pat Barkalow who I had the pleasure of working with at First National Bank in Creston. A total sweetheart. And Tammy remembers everyone's name - it's amazing.

I've had a closer relationship with Christine, my physical therapist, than with most other people these past couple months. We've gotten to know each other - chatting about our lives during my treatment. Sometimes she was applying an ultrasound device to my shoulder - a comforting touch to an area that was screaming for help.

I think she also tried to distract me with chatter during times she was torturing me. It was what my surgeon called "aggressive" treatment designed to prevent my shoulder from freezing up again. I'm afraid I was a wimp at times - less than a stiff upper lip. Christine handled this situation with grace.

And sarcasm. We share a birthday and that personality trait. I enjoyed hearing stories about Christine's family. Her son is a frosh at ISU and is a former high school hockey player. Her daughter is fifteen years old and sounds like a sweetheart. I shared information about my cherubs Amy and Jud - like how happy Paul and I were to hear that Amy and Jud saw each other every week when they were both at ISU during 2007/8. Then we found out Amy was Jud and his friends' booze connection. #siblinglove

Christine has helped see me through a really tough time in my life. She was calm, caring - and funny. She made sure that I didn't get shuffled off to other PTs, keeping me to herself. I thanked her today for her care and she simply said, "I love my job." What could be better than that! Hats off to all my relatives and friends who are Physical Therapists. Our nieces Karen, Annette, and our friend Stormy - the work you do is so important to those of us in need!


Karen - a recently scanned pic from a special day

Another recently scanned pic from a Gsmith Christmas - Annette & fam

Stormy - wedding pic

 

Now the work is up to me!

Gone girl

AKA Hormones you're failing me now.

Christine, my PT (Physical Therapist) says many of the frozen shoulders she's seen are connected to menopausal women. Damn hormones.

I didn't want hormones when they took off in my body at puberty. And just when I was getting used to them - they up and quit, causing me a world of hurt. My girl is gone.

I started PT a couple weeks ago. It's been a long two weeks. Adhesive Capsulitis - frozen shoulder - means scar tissue builds up along your shoulder joint. And by scar tissue I mean razor blades that refer pain down your arm all the way to your hand. The surgeon I see suggested PT would break up the scar tissue. So far all it's done is cause me pain.

Therefore I'm not much fun these days - thus boring blogs about me, me, me and my hormones and shoulder. WooHoo good reader.

How about we ride the wayback machine - back to the first day I realized I couldn't hold back the hands of the evil hormones. It was 7th grade - I was getting curves and Mom had suggested I get a bra. We'd made the trip to Graham's Department Store to buy the bra in the box with the pink kitten on it. Thank God Mom hadn't insisted I try it on at the store. I was mortified enough as it was! Dad came home that weekend and proceeded to "snap" my new bra - throwing me in to a crying fit. Mom was forced to chastise Dad...

You know those girls who are dying to grow breasts? Um...I was not one of them. I would have bound the damn things if I could have. I wish they would have had sports bras back then - that would have been perfect for me. Alas - born decades too early. My prayers not to have breasts were granted though. Thanks boob gods! Not. You could have at least seen your way to allowing me B cups...

The good news was that mini-pads were invented by the time "Aunt Flo" came to visit the first time. Now that was a traumatic event - I remember it like it was yesterday. I bet every girl does. There is something about blood flowing out of you that is scary! And gross.

All the fifth grade girls had seen the film about this mysterious event. And Mom had showed me where the supplies were. After I told her I'd gotten it that first time we didn't discuss it. But back then I didn't wish to speak of it. It was "the curse". I would write "tampons" on the grocery list. Mom would buy the kind with the crinkly cellophane wrappers - if I had to use one in a public restroom I would try so hard to open it silently!

When I got to college I finally relaxed a bit. I could rip those tampon wrappers open as loudly as I liked. In a dorm full of girls in the late seventies - nobody cared. My girl friends and I talked about it all - no topic was off limits. Even later - when I reached child-bearing years, menstruation became what it always should have been. Another biological process. Nothing to be embarrassed about.

Oh the things women go through. Men really don't have a clue do they?

And now this. Aunt Flo is piercing my shoulder with a dagger. I will see the surgeon again Monday - and will likely have my shoulder manipulated Wednesday. After that there will be plenty of hard work to keep the scar tissue from re-forming. But I'm up to it.

Pain and attitude

I had my first Physical Therapy appointment today for my gooped up shoulder. Adhesive capsulitis is the official term - or frozen shoulder. If you've been reading my blog a while you may recall me complaining about this same thing a couple years ago. Lucky me! Two shoulders, both freezing up for no particular reason.

Yep, I'm feeling sorry for myself. The damn thing is keeping me awake at night and now I can't dress without gyrating in pain. I make some interesting noises when the pain zings. Just ask my husband. And dog. The heating pad and analgesic stick on pads-are my friends. Those have the side benefit of clearing my sinuses.

So the surgeon set me up with the same physical therapy office that tortured my last frosty shoulder into submission. By the time they were through with me, I was buckling my bra behind my back like a pro. I'm aiming for that lofty goal once again. The buckle in front method is for novices! I showed up at the PT office today to start round two.

Reality check! People in wheelchairs, folks limping, greatly damaged were there. One guy described to someone else in the waiting room how he tore all the tendons in his arm keeping a motorcycle from falling on a young girl. I felt like a wimp. Suck it up Goldsmith! Stretch out that scar tissue. Rip!

spiderweb on the bridge - cool shadows on my walk

It was a beautiful afternoon. When I got home, I went for a walk. The temperature and time of year reminded me of school days back in Creston - when we lived in our first home. It was near what was then the Middle School. I'd hear the marching band playing (not so well). I'd round Amy and Jud up to sit on the front steps to listen. I'm sure that spurred Amy on to a short career on the saxophone years later.

Guess what town this was...with Angie and Scott

Monday I road tripped it to Louisa County to the town of Wapello. Then we headed to the Scott County town of Buffalo. It was a great trip - always nice to inform the good people of our state about ways to reduce trash entering landfills.

Bits and pieces

Ach! The hot, dry summer in Iowa is something else. It does remind me of 1988, back when I worked at First National Bank in Creston. That was the last time it was this dry and hot in the area. I would help stuff bank statements with Sandy Hysell, Cathy Lacina, Pam Grey and others. Cathy, whose former farmed, would talk about hauling water for livestock. We didn't even have Jud then! Seems so long ago.

The yards in Waukee are torched...this is Joan's

I had breakfast with my homegirls this a.m. It was nice to see everyone, though Diana and Bobbie were not there. Nancy, that stud muffin, rode her motorcycle (a Harley) with the Hells Angels (her husband Jim) to bike night in Winterset. She was very proud of herself - her longest ride yet, as she just got the two-wheeled cycle of death (as my mother called them) a few weeks ago. Paul has to report to me each time she drives by on it. It reminds me of his father George Goldsmith, how he used to enjoy keeping up on the neighbor girl's love life.  Nancy got coaching from Chuck, our waiter, on how to waive when one rides a Harley. Two fingers, ya'll.

My physical therapist took pity on me today and went easy. Oh I had to use the instrument of torture - otherwise known as "The Pulleys". When I bought it last week, I joked with Lori the receptionist that I had read 50 Shades of Grey and the contraption would be very useful...HA! Like I feel amorous with this shoulder pain.

My arm is bruised from the manipulation

I took a stroll - not a Deb Peterson power walk around the neighborhood tonight.

This was after I replaced the front right headlight in my car. That's right. I'm a motorhead. As I drove out of my garage this a.m. Charlene Dunphy flagged me down and told me I had a headlight out. Dang...not another one! I love my car, but it goes through lights like nothing else. Anyway after work I cruised to NAPA, thinking...well they'll put it in. Wrong! So I got out the instructions at Joan's. I had to take the air intake out. Holy Snikes! Good thing Joan came home to help me put it back in! But it works - let's hope it points in the right direction.

Joan and I just watched the end of Uncle Buck one of my all time fave movies. John Candy you left us too soon!