Current setbacks have been self-imposed, it appears.
I went to a physiotherapist this week to see if I could get some help for my legs.
“Best way I can describe it,” I told him, “is that my legs feel like the plastic ones on those cheap patio chairs. I can’t trust that they won’t give out on me.”
He put me through a few maneuvers, and found I was unable to feel the stretches.
“I’ve been trying to strengthen them by walking up and down a flight of stairs each day.”
For two years, I would not even attempt stairs – weak muscles being only part of the problem. Lately, I have given into the mantra: no pain no gain; impatient to get my life back.
“You are damaging the muscles.” He advised kindly. “The impulse is good, but doing less more frequently would be better.”
For now, I am starting with very simple exercises, minimal reps, to strengthen all the different muscle groups.
“Once you are stronger we will practice on half stair heights,” he added.
And to think, I’ve been doing full staircases, frustrated by continual setbacks.
“I just don’t want to slide back to where I was,” I confess, choking up.
“If anything is going to put you there, it will be your legs,” he cautioned.
It makes so much sense now, and I don’t know why I couldn’t see it on my own, but that is why we need others: an outside opinion (especially a professional one) is priceless.
Writer, avid reader, former educator, and proud grandmother, currently experiencing life through the lens of ME/CFS. Words are, and always have been, a lifeline. Some of the best adventures, I'm discovering, take place in the imagination.