“I hate my physical therapist.”
“My therapist hates me.”
“She is a sadist.”
“Just watch and see.”
“She loves to see me grimace in pain.”
“She says my torture is my own gain.”
“I hate my therapist.”
“Can’t you see?”
“Because of this punishment, how can she love me?”
Alright, I know what you’re thinking: “Oh my goodness, that poor Aimee! She hates her therapist? What are they doing to that poor child?”
The above is a brief glimpse of a typical moment of rehab. I must add one important factor: Aimee loves her physical therapist.
During each of her physical therapy sessions, Aimee does two hundred crunches in seven minutes. Every ten crunches, Aimee is required to say a complete sentence with each repetition. Hence my rhapsodic poetic rendition, which is basically my take on what Aimee says, based on my discussion with Aimee herself.
At this point I have to pause and ask a simple question. How many of you can do two hundred crunches in seven minutes?
No, making two hundred crunching sounds while eating a bag of Cheetos does not count.
Wait, that’s not all. Aimee also has to do four hundred leg lifts in seven minutes, an untold number of pushups and something else that she calls “planks” and “sideplanks”.
I always thought sideplanks were something you put on your plate to keep the food from falling off when you visited the buffet line. Not the same.