Triggered

Inspirational song: Roy Rogers (Elton John)

It has been about two weeks since I started in with the new physical therapist, the one who makes me feel like I have a guest role on Bones. I have learned more in those two weeks with Mr. Smartypants than in the combined months from doctor visits and PT for both this leg injury and my other PT experience, when I tried to separate both shoulders falling through a roof (but that's a story for another day). The exercises he gave me for homework were small but difficult. As of today, I was finally able to do my least favorite one for the full five repetitions of thirty seconds each. All that just to be able to sit on my heels and bend my toes forward at the same time. But that still comes with pain, as does trying to stand on one foot on a silicone dome, and fifteen minutes of leg presses with almost zero resistance. So today, we agreed it was time to pull out the "dry needling" that he had threatened all along. It was the reason I was assigned to this particular clinic, because my man Bones is the only physical therapist in town who is certified to do this kind of treatment.

I had to google dry needling when I was told that it was authorized for my therapy. I had no idea what the phrase meant. I learned just enough to gather that it differs from acupuncture by placing the needle directly into the myofascial triggers, not just along "median lines." I have never had either thing done to me, so I didn't know whether to be concerned. He showed me the needles: impossibly thin, flexible, non-pointed, and non-hollow. He explained that they would go in as deeply into the trigger point as necessary, and once we found the locus of the block, he would tap the needle in and out a little, to release the tension all along the muscle. The first time he did it, it was almost no sensation at all. I certainly couldn't tell that there was a needle in my shin. The second time, he found the trigger point. It was just to the left of my tibia, three or four inches below my knee. But that is NOT where I felt it. It was like there were jumper cables attached to my ankle, and hot electric pain sent my foot dancing on its own choreography, not mine. It seemed to go on forever, while he tapped the needle all around, forcing the knot to give up its tension. But when I thought I couldn't handle it any more, he kept saying things like, "just 45 more seconds."

Eventually it ended, but I was warned it might be sore for four to twenty-four hours after. It has been thirteen so far, and I still feel like I twisted my ankle. But for all that it feels weird now, I am actually pretty hopeful that this will result in a big breakthrough. I've been having so much pain for so long, since last May, really. I'm ready to feel strong and athletic again. Or at least whole. I've spent a lot of time on the couch, buried under a thick layer of cats, wishing I felt like doing weight-bearing activities again. It gets old.