Thursday, there were tears after my therapy session. Darrell, my "regular guy," was booked solid, so my appointment was with another therapist.
He was abysmal.
No support, no motivation. Criticism. Criticism bordering on ridicule. Forcing me to push and pull my shoulder beyond points of comfort. By the time my session was over, I was physically whipped and emotionally drained. (You can offer help, you can speak without spitting "No, no, NO!" through your teeth.)
Yesterday, I cried because I was in pain from Thursday. My hurt feelings turned to anger. Thursday night, for the first time in several weeks, I didn't sleep well because my arm and shoulder kept me awake.
Today, I cry from the weight and the wait of all of this. Plus, I finally cast some knitting on. Mistake. Yes, I knew cotton was an unwise choice. Stiff, unforgiving. Yet I figured a dishcloth could bear more mistakes than something else.
2 comments:
I'm sorry to hear this. A good therapist makes all the difference. The Mister's office had only women and they were so caring and gentle that he still stops in to say hello to them from time to time.
My elderly Mom had a PT guy that sounds like yours---I told her it wouldn't be impolite to tell him to take a hike! She did. Just because they've had some training doesn't make them able to work with people! Sorry you had to have insult added to injury by a bad physical therapist!
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