(Physiotherapy, Ultrasound and IMS)
Blog 24
A word about therapy. Physiotherapy. I did my first session. Is it called a session? It doesn’t really matter. I have mixed feelings about the process. One is a pain the ass, and the other is just a pain.
As a side note, I received a notice this week from the fine folks at #Wordpress that this is my 4 year anniversary. Wow! I haven’t done much in 4 years. That makes me feel as good about myself as going to therapy.
Right. Physio. My first visit was… well….. let me tell you the story.
After I filled out the usual Q&A forms and signed a waiver, (I think I signed a waiver. It only makes sense these days), I sat down with my therapist as she went over my history.
She didn’t seem interested that I was once a star 5-pin bowler (when I was 10!) or a mediocre hockey player through my teenage years. She really didn’t care about my musical endeavours. She was, however, interested in my running career.
Right. Those blasted little words on the prescription my doctor gave me. “PT is a runner”. I knew that was going to haunt me.
She then proceeded to bend me and twist me just like my doctor had done. I should point out at this point, that walking into this first session, I was feeling pretty good. My hip… sorry, my hamstring, wasn’t giving me much trouble at all.
Well, she found that magic spot that my doctor had found. I could feel the pain coming on. She repeated the move again, just like my doctor had, for good measure.
“You definitely have something going on with your hamstring.” I think she was smiling when she said it. “I recommend a combination of Ultrasound and IMS as well as some stretching exercises.”
I was quick to agree with whatever she said. Partly because I want to heal whatever I’ve strained so I can begin training, and partly because she was still holding my leg in whatever submission position she found that was causing my pain to return.
Now, I am familiar with Ultrasound. I’ve seen it done before on expecting mothers to monitor the progress of a baby’s growth while in utero. I wasn’t sure how this would help me, but I leave the expertise to the experts.
IMS on the other hand… I had no idea what it was. IMS is short for Intramuscular Stimulation. It’s a form of Acupuncture. I’ve seen acupuncture performed on TV and it appears harmless enough. The patient gets needles placed in strategic areas for a certain length of time – relatively painless and comfortable for the patient. They can even carry on a conversation during the whole process!
“It’s the kind of thing that will get worse before it gets better,” she informed me.
When I asked her if there was something specific that I might have done to aggravate, or strain, my hamstring she simply said, “You probably just did too much too soon in your training.”
Did I forget to inform her that I hadn’t actually started my training? No need to bring it up now.
“Okay,” I said moving forward, “Let’s get ‘er done.”
First of all, the Ultrasound was not what I was expecting. There was no monitor showing the muscles and tendons in my leg. Thankfully, there wasn’t a picture of a little fetus either.
Instead, she ran the machine up and down my hamstring, sending little electric shocks down my leg. It wasn’t painful at all. Well, except towards the end, when the intensity was increased, but even then it was only a slight discomfort. It was completely tolerable.
Next up was my acupuncture. She showed me the little needles that she was going to place in my leg. I imagined that a little wire would be attached to each of them and my leg would twitch rhythmically in sequence. I was picturing the TV commercial with Dr. Ho’s Pain Therapy System.
This just might be kind of fun.
Of course I couldn’t actually watch what was going on because I was lying on my stomach, my head nestled softly into a pillow, but I believe I was quite relaxed when she poked me with the first needle.
I can’t be sure, but I’m pretty sure she jabbed it halfway through my leg. There was a jolt of pressure. It’s not easy to describe, but it was very uncomfortable.
The next needle was pretty well the same except I’m pretty sure she jabbed it through the other side of my leg. More pressure. More discomfort. I would have screamed like a wounded child in a playground, but my head was now firmly ensconced in the pillow, effectively stifling any expletives that came out of my mouth.
And so it went until she had used up all 5 needles. She placed a heating pad on my leg. I think she said it would help the muscle relax. I’m not entirely sure. I was still waiting for the electrodes to cause my muscles to twitch and move, but before I knew it, she was marching me out to an exercise bike.
I walked very gingerly and was very careful not to disturb the acu-torture needles protruding from the back of my leg.
As I cautiously sat down on the bike, I was expecting a sharp pain from one or more of the needles as it got caught on the seat, or my shorts, or some other thing.
I had to ask, “Is it okay to do this with the needles still in my leg?”
She laughed at me. “Oh, they’re not in there anymore.”
Apparently, they are only inserted long enough to cause discomfort and tears and then removed. There are no electrodes, no muscle twitching or any other hocus-pocus that would make me think something good is happening.
The amazing part of that magic trick was the simple fact that I could feel exactly where each needle was placed. I could touch each and every one of those little pricks sticking out of my leg… only there was nothing there. I was simply experiencing a phantom ghost feeling from the IMS.
After a 5-minute warm-up, my physiotherapist had me on my back doing a couple different stretching exercises. I should explain that although they were just stretches, I found them very difficult to do. It’s a hard realization that I am not nearly as flexible as I thought I was. Not only that, these stretches were more like a workout than a simple leg stretch. I broke out in a sweat. This wasn’t nearly as fun as I had told myself that this was going to be.
“Good job,” I’m sure she said that just to make me feel better about myself as I wiped some sweat off my forehead. “Come back next week, and we’ll do it again.”
“Right. Next week. See you then,” I said trying to feign my enthusiasm.
I picked up my ego and hobbled my way out the door. Her words of encouragement fell on my deaf ears. “Keep doing those stretches!”
Yeah. Whatever.
I’m pretty sure she was laughing at me as I nodded my head in answer. This was not the experience I was hoping for, but it was all in the interest of getting better so I could start my training.
The next day was definitely not pretty. The individual needlepoints in my leg were replaced with a very pronounced dull ache. I admit, therapy had beat me up pretty good. My stretches were harder than the day before.
On day 2, of recovery, there was something of a miracle going on. The leg pain had subsided. The tightness was indeed going away.
By the time I go back for my second session, I should be feeling pretty damn good. Just in time to go through it all again, I’m sure.
The road to recovery is not an easy one and indeed, it does have to get worse before it gets better.
I can’t wait to get better.
Until then, This is Me.
Wayne
thewaynereport 