Day thirteen

Twelve physical-therapy sessions down, six to go, and I'm really starting to wonder if the projected bite exceeds my potential chew: while I'm getting the exercises done, generally with half again as many reps, sometimes twice as many reps, as when I started, I don't feel much better, and this persistent limp isn't going away. (I joked last week that it took me two years to learn how to walk, and I wasn't going to relearn it in a few weeks; it occurs to me now that perhaps it was no joke after all.)

Still, I persist. And even if I still do a bad imitation of Hopalong Cassidy across the parking lot, the additional physical activity is probably good for me — even if it doesn't feel like it at the time.

And I wonder: would this have worked out better in some month other than cold, dreary January?

Posted at 7:24 AM to General Disinterest