On the Other Hand ...

Some of my readers may have noted that it will be my birthday, September 23, when I next go to see my physiotherapist at Toronto Rehab.

When she proposed the appointment, I said so to Mariam.

She said, "Oh, we can reschedule. People never want to have a physio appointment on their birthday."

Mariam's take is that people hate physiotherapy, and, especially on their birthdays, would really rather not do it.

I didn't reschedule, but Mariam has a point.

The morning's the worst. My body's had a whole night to rest, but also to stiffen up and grow sore where the muscles unaccustomed to such treatment have had time to lodge their complaints.

So I procrastinate. For example:

• I'll take a very long time to make my bed. Gotta get those hospital corners on the sheets just right. And arrange the pillows.

• If it's a nice day, I'll open all the windows.

• I now have blog readers in Pakistan, so I'll check and see if they have visited the site in the last four hours.

I do eventually get around to it. I do the easy movements first to warm up. Once I get going, I'm committed to doing the whole set. But some of the exercises are tough.

So I give myself little pep talks. Out loud.

• "Keep the weight in the leg!"
• "Tuck that right hip in!"
• "Good job!"

When the physio session is over -- seven different exercises, which now take about twenty five minutes to do -- I write it all down in a chart. This feels scientific.

The midday and evening sessions are never as tough to get started on as the morning. I make them harder: I hold the poses for ten seconds instead of five. I lift my arms over my head instead of holding onto a support like I'm supposed to. I pretend I'm in yoga class.

At the end of the day I decide whether I will increase the next day's repetitions. If I waited 'til the morning to decide, I'd still be doing 5 of everything.

Thanks for reading.

Karen