“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.
These workouts serve a great purpose for Aimee. She is conditioning her body to be strong enough to shift her weight so that she can maneuver in and out of her chair onto any surface. She’s getting pretty doggone good at it too.
A couple of weeks ago I had an opportunity to buy a nice van with a lift, at a reasonable price, for Aimee. It had a locking mechanism for a wheelchair on the right front passenger side. You want to know Aimee’s reaction?
“No way! I am not going to be chauffeured around town like a handicapped person.”
I was taken aback. I thought she would see value in the van, just as her mother and I did. Where we saw value, she saw dependence. She wants to come and go as she pleases. She wants to drive herself wherever she wants to go, preferably (according to her) in a Prius V.
I bit my tongue. The same young lady who totaled three cars (and a golf cart) when she was whole now wants to drive when she lacks hands or feet? I didn’t say that to Aimee. The simple fact is that between her ears, Aimee is 100%. She knows that she can accomplish anything she wants and that lacking the hands or feet to accomplish such tasks is only a minor inconvenience. She is learning to work around these inconveniences and she is determined that she will prevail. Who am I to tell her any different?
Needless to say, the van ai