Last Physical Therapy Appointment (Or Not)

Yesterday, I went into what I thought would be my last physical therapy appointment for my knee with Evan. God forbid I have to go back into PT in the future for a bad back or shoulder, but if I need to go, I will go. I've seen first hand the miracles of physical therapy, and I am sold on its value to humankind.*

It has been a year since my surgery, and I've skied twice. Not once--twice. I had to prove it wasn't a fluke that I skied, and that I wasn't afraid so afraid that I would do it once and then say "I'm done." In fact, I am inspired to go to Whistler. They have the best green runs. The runs are long, and there are several runs off the same lift for variety.

I digress. When I walked into my appointment, I saw the same handful of receptionists I've seen almost every week--often twice a week--since January 2016. I told them "This is my last appointment!" They cheered and shared my joy at my completion. I was so confident it was going my last appointment, I almost pre-wrote this blog post.

When I saw Evan, I told him I've skied twice since I was last at physical therapy two weeks ago. He winced a little. "Skiing is the highest risk activity of tearing your ACL. You have a big lever on your foot that can twist your knee." I know.

He had me repeat the jumping tests to test my leg strength. I passed the triple jump and the triple cross jump. For both of those tests, my injured leg was 95% and 96% of my healthy leg. The goal to return to sports is 90%. My problem was with the single jump. There, I was only 77%. While my single jump was better than my previous test a few weeks earlier, it wasn't close to 90%.

At my last appointment, Evan commented that this was an unusual set of jumping results. Most people are closest on the single jump, and further on the triple jumps.

"This tells me your balance is good because triple jumps require balance. The lower percentage on the single jumps tells me you need more strength. I wouldn't let you play soccer yet. I might let you go back to practice at a low level, but you aren't game ready."

I don't play soccer, so cool, right? I changed the subject. "What do I need to do to maintain my leg, so I'll be ready to ski?" I asked.

"I've been giving you skiing maintenance exercises all along," he said, smiling. "That was the goal." This was good news. I wouldn't have to start anything new--I would just have to maintain.

"I would like to see your strength improve, though," Evan said. "You really need to work on that."

"Do I need another appointment, or am I done?" I asked. My tone and expression showed that I hoped I was done. I don't know why I so badly wanted to be done considering I don't mind it. I figured my goal was to ski, and I skied; therefore, I should be done.

And yet... I have a friend, Daphne, who stopped physical therapy after a few months after she tore her ACL. She could walk, so she thought she was fine. She went cross country skiing a few weeks ago, and her injured leg pooped out and gave up. It was a cautionary tale for me. Not having a fully functional leg scares the crap out of me. After I started running, I started using physical therapy more as training to get me in shape for skiing, dancing, yoga, running and whatnot. The Sports Medicine clinic's goal is to return people to sports, not just walk without a limp.

"It is your choice," Evan said. "If you think you can build up the strength on your own, you are done. If you need the pressure of not disappointing me, then you probably need another appointment."

Dang. After a year of working with me, Evan knows me too well. He knows I need the push, the check-in, the reporting back to authority. While I waffled, he gave me a new printout of my exercises.

I am not a person who is naturally or intrinsically motivated to be physically fit. I don't dislike exercise, but I was never a person to stand in front of a mirror and admire my tight buns and buff legs, or likewise to dismay at my flabby arms. I don't think I'd be comfortable if I were so overweight it impacted my ability to participate in activities of daily living, but I am not uncomfortable settling into my middle-aged spread. I'd rather read a book or work on a project than exercise. I'd rather eat good food than being hungry all of the time. Would I be happier if I were in better shape? Possibly, but I am not going to sacrifice chocolate for it or spend all of my free time at the gym. I am happy living inside my head.

Which is all why I need a second physical therapy appointment. I wouldn't do it on my own. Now, I do barely enough. I can make it to the YMCA to run, bike and use the elliptical several times a week, but doing my home exercises every other day becomes once a week if that.

So I have another appointment in a month. In the meantime, I will have to adjust to keeping up with these exercises, doing it on my own without a weekly or every other week check-in, where I am the only person who knows if I am doing my exercises or not.

When I was a kid, I took ballet classes. I loved the flow that would come after a long workout. I loved moving my body to the music. I remember one dance class when I was about ten years old, where I asked myself if I could dance forever, make it my job. Did I want to pursue being a professional dancer? It was as if the Sorting Hat from Harry Potter was placed on my head. Instead of asking which house I wanted to be in, it asked did I love dance enough to do it more than anything else?

The answer was no. Even though I loved it, I wondered how I could live an intellectual life and be a dancer. I couldn't imagine my life without going to college, without having a strong life of the mind. Even though now I daydream about being a professional dancer, I don't think I would have traded away my college degree for going to ballet school.

This question I asked myself when I was ten years old is relevant to me now. I know myself well enough that I'd rather sit down and pound out a blog post before I would choose to exercise. That when I am hungry, I'd rather eat than workout beforehand. Yet, I know keeping my knee in shape is a priority. Not being able to move would also be untenable. Given the choice of exercising when my knee is "good enough" and reading a book, I'd probably pick the book nine times out of ten.

So I am going back to physical therapy in a month. I know I need to do it, but I know myself that I need someone to hold me accountable for myself until I can develop the habit to do it myself.

* I can't say mankind. I am feeling down on the patriarchy lately.