On why physical therapists are da bomb

Speaking of "da bomb", kids don't say that anymore do they?

It's like a recent Friday night, where bubs and i took our 16 year old niece and 13 year cousin bowling.

Afterward, i referred to something as "sketchtastic". By their teenaged reactions, i gathered that this particular term was no longer "hip".

Laughing it off mostly, i turned shortly thereafter for solace to the Facebook community. i threw it out to my friends, asking them to back me up on the coolness of this word.

No one responded that they had even ever heard of it.

Sigh.

But i digress.

The bear (a derivative of momma-bear, bub's nickname for her) has begun physical therapy.

Thank and praise God for physical therapy!!

It was a suggestion by her doctor after protracted periods of complaining about pain.

See momma has degenerative disc disease, or arthritis, or whatever you want to call it, in her neck. This has led to neck and back pain.

Yet her doctor told us there was really no way to treat it except to a.) medicate for the pain and b.) have surgery.

Surgery is something i do not want to put momma (or us) through if it's not really important.

The doctor agreed with not putting her through surgery.

So the back thing is something we've been dealing with for at least a few years now. At mom's last appointment, when i broached the subject the doctor said the soothing words.

Physical therapy.

i was dubious at first. i took her the first day, and watched the young therapist like a hawk. i fretted over the way he was manhandling her head and neck. i asked questions about risks to her while trying not to seem like i was rudely questioning his expertise. i made certain to point out to him that she was breakable. i seriously considered asking the receptionist if this therapist was really good at his job, after he admitted to me that this was his first job after his graduation last spring. i mentally wondered if there was a way to request the other therapist without causing offense.

It's been nearly two full weeks later however, and i've relaxed a lot. The practice we are taking her too is close. The two therapists and the receptionist are superbly kind to momma, joking with her and rolling with inappropriate questions and repeated reminders of certain items. The therapist did undergo seven years of schooling, even if this is his first job (my sister reminded me). They are accommodating of her- after one session where she was fretful and freezing they began putting heating pads on her prior to working with her. There are various reasons why i'm grateful for physical therapy, and this practice in particular.

The thing is that it appears to be working. There seems to be an observable decrease in pain complaints.

God is good and cares even about the little things.