Working out the pain is its own pain

Today is “Hump Day” and like Caleb the Camel, one of GEICO’s most recent animated animal spokespersons, I am enthused the week is over the hump. My reason for enthusiasm though is that I now have only 10 of 12 physical therapy sessions left. By this time tomorrow the number will hit a reduction to nine.

A visit to my orthopedic specialist yesterday found me halfway hobbling into the examining room. I had arthroscopic work completed on my medial and lateral meniscus of the knee more than a month ago. I guess getting the fed workman’s compensation folks to deal with helped slow the process down to a crawl.

I have been restricted by my physician to standing for no more than two hours per day each day now for two months. That is something I am sure my work supervisor has tired of as much as me. Maybe not. I am most assuredly sick of it. And now I must complete physical therapy before I can return to full duty at a part-time job that seems as if it is full time. Ah, but thou dost complain too much!

Not really. The people at physical therapy are all nice, or at least so far. And they are patient, or at least so far.

I have not yet been asked to do anything that would make me cuss out anyone or throw up on them.

Maybe though, the one concern I have is my continuing bothersome pain in my operated-upon knee. I didn’t think it would be perfect right off the bat. Although, the doctor did shoot my knee up with some kind of pain killing substances when he did the arthroscopic surgery and I was pain free in that knee for a few days. But continual pain in the knee is no good. The reason could be arthritis, or it could be overwork of these body parts. It might be something else.

Hell’s bells.

I suppose I have a lot to be thankful for. But a wholly healed knee is not one of them. So I bitch and moan. And I tick off the time until physical therapy is finished in 10 days spread out through the next three weeks.