They tried to make me go to rehab…
Physical therapy has begin in earnest on my big toe.
I showed up last week for my first appointment with Joe, who looked me straight in the eye and said, "Every minute we spend together is going to put you in pain."
I said, "OH, sort of like marriage counseling?"
I told him I will do everything he tells me to do. He told me I may never regain full range of motion, it may swollen for months, if not forever, and that I may have permanent pain.
Well then. He's a bit more direct than my doctor who simply said, "You won't drive for three weeks."
I mean, it didn't hurt this bad before the surgery. In fact, not even remotely so.
In any case, I decided it was time to lace up and get moving again, pain or no pain. So I picked up a new fitness gadet in the form of a Fitbit Flex. I'm a huge fan of Fitbit. My only problem is that I was tending to accidentally wash them. They only like to be washed once, apparently. This new wrist style FitBit might be the perfect fit, no pun intended. It'll be hard to throw that down the laundry chute. (The clip-on models were always on my bra, ergo, accidental washings galore.)
I set a modest step goal of 5,000 to start. It's crazy how little I was moving and yet how easy it was to hit that mark in one day of simply trying.
My present goal is back to 10,000. I have a number to aim for and every step is good for my rehab efforts.
I realized how gadget-oriented I am. I love the idea of tracking steps. Every little bit adds up, especially when you've been in any sort of forced inactivity.
That, and I love hot pink. And $10 from the sale of each hot pink Fitbit Flex goes to the American Cancer Society.
I know we are heading straight for holiday season central—Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas—but right now, I'm just feeling really grateful for the opportunity to get this middle-aged bod moving again.
Now I'm off to see Joe for my bi-weekly dose of pain. Wish me luck.