Ya’ll know my history — my back from Hades — the new journey to physical therapy (especially if you read my recent posting on Cruella De Vil) — visits with my adorable Agador again for the entire month of May, 3 times a week, in the hopes of getting me walking again more than a block without limping like I’m 189 years old. The cane simply is not an option. There, I said it.
As part of my physical therapy evaluation appointment last week, I was given the Wedgie thing (you already saw that picture I won’t bore you by posting it again….it’s nasty-looking anyway) and a list of specific exercises I must do several times a day with specific time frames to “hold” the exercise and the amount of reps to do. Sounds easy enough. Some of these exercises I already do, having picked them up from the last go-round of physical therapy. Oops…found out I wasn’t doing them correctly. When you do them my way they’re easy. When you do them properly it hurts. Ow.
So Wed evening I skip the exercises…I had somewhere to be and by the time I got home I was just so tired I had to go to bed. Thurs would be time enough to start this exercise regimen and lay on this stupid pink Wedgie thing. Ick.
Thurs morning Devoted Spouse had gone to do his volunteer work. It was just me and EmmaLou, Golden Destroyer, in the house. I took my exercise handout, my cell phone (to time myself), my yoga mat, and the infamous pink Wedgie thing into the living room and I proceeded to get down onto the floor to do the exercises. That was my first mistake. Getting onto the floor means I am on the same level as EmmaLou and when I am at her level she interprets this as play time and what did she see as the closest toy available? Oh yeah…my pink Wedgie thing.
EmmaLou is running around the house with the pink thingie in her mouth and I am following her yelling “Treat!” “Treat!” like a lousy piece of dog kibble is going to get her to spit out the pink Wedgie. No, this has become her favorite new toy and I am toast. So I do what any smart fur-child mom does….I head for the sterilized bone and the jar of peanut butter. EmmaLou drops the pink Wedgie in trade for the bone stuffed with peanut butter. Whew – a tragedy is averted — I have my little exercise helper and off I trot back to the living room to start those exercises.
I hate to get personal here, but I was following the instructions and they bluntly say to place this thing at the top of the crack in your butt with the narrow end facing toward your feet. Now that doesn’t sound difficult — but I’m here to tell you this is easier said than done. You have to be on your side to begin with, with your legs bent — get the stupid thing placed properly, then roll onto your back AND onto this teeny little piece of foam that fits under the wedgie. Four times I tried…four times I missed the foam completely. In total frustration I held the wedgie thing AND the foam piece together, placed them the best I could and rolled onto my back.
Oh dear Gawd I thought I would die from the pain. Straightening out your sacrum is not a fun thing to do. By that time EmmaLou had returned, reeking of peanut butter — she thought since I was still lying on the floor, it was play time and proceeded to nudge me. “Stop it, I’m working with my wedgie.” Thankfully no one heard me utter those words. I made it through the 10 minutes, rolled over and got the infernal thing off my posterior and laid it on the coffee table. Guess who reached over and gently picked it up and took off like lightning? Oh yeah, EmmaLou. I struggled to get up off the floor and we went through the abovementioned scenario again ending up with her receiving another healthy dose of peanut butter.
I still had exercises to do so back to the yoga mat I went. I looked at the exercises and started doing them. The pain was tremendous – there was no way I was doing 10 reps of this stuff – I barely made it through 1 full session. But I am happy to report I got every exercise done. Then I read the instructions again and discovered I have to do these things not once but several times a day. This is going to be challenging.
Crap on a crutch – I think I’ll just duct tape the pink wedgie to my butt and leave it there – that way when it’s exercise time I’m ready and EmmaLou can’t run away with it. Might get some odd looks as I walk through the store though. sigh…
P.S. Crone and Bear It is gonna take a little technology break for a few days — I have too many irons in the fire, so to speak. I promise to return real soon. Hang on – you can live without me for a few days. Just think of me and my pink wedgie and that should keep you smiling until I am back online. xo