I'm taking some time out from my busy schedule of sticking my hand in hot water for three minutes, then cold water for one and a half, to not tell you about the faucet crisis I am experiencing right now. These subjects sound related, don't they? But they aren't. Let's open with a faucet pic, since pails of water are not nearly so beautiful:
This is a 'Campaign' faucet from Restoration Hardware and it's huge - a monster, really. Or it was, until they discontinued it after we bought ours at clearance pricing. (you can still buy the tub filler.) But I'm not telling you about how we have now discovered it may simply overwhelm our shallow counters, or about the other faucets we had to replace in a hurry today because the counters are coming in soon and we decided we really don't like the ones we'd picked originally.
Instead, we'll be talking about Going To The Physiotherapist.
Are you excited? I was, till I realized how much this is gonna hurt!!
I chose my physiotherapist based on two factors: location and location. I left out the traditional third location - the office is not a deluxe glam-decor relaxing space like my orthodontist's, which seems unjust because frankly I have less pain at the orthodontist's. But the first 'location' is important, since we are likely to be moving halfway through my treatment program and I want to be able to get there easily from both condo and house, and the second 'location' is pretty nice too - you can get there through PATH which means I can stay dry on rainy days like yesterday, when I went for the first time. I can live without glam.
(to be fair, the reviews I found online were also very positive.)
As an added bonus, the geographic location puts it just over the intersection that stands between Old and New City Hall here in Toronto and the view from the windows is AMAZING. I have never seen Bay Street from this angle, though I have walked it many many times over the years. The elevated view makes it looks SO much more beautiful and also, foreign and unfamiliar. It fascinated me to have the chance to see Toronto for the first time again even though I've been coming here since I was five and moved here more or less permanently at eighteen.
Somebody was skating on the rink in Nathan Phillips Square in front of new city hall as I waited for my appointment. It was raining, and surely the rink was mostly melted? but there was this guy, bundled up and gliding around with much finesse. Later I watched a Zamboni slowly moving around the ice to clean up all the shavings, like it wasn't rainy out and about 7 degrees Celcius. It was nice to be taken out of myself and the pain of my hand to see all that, before I had to lie down and try to breathe through having my fingers and hand bent into the positions they used to be able to achieve by themselves without consequence.
I would like to point out that I did not swear during all that. I was able to resist because I am pretty sure the pain was not worse than the pain from the eight needles I had to have before having the reduction in Emerg. for my two broken fingers, though I might be in denial, and since I didn't swear during that I wasn't going to cop out during physio. But it wasn't that I didn't desperately want to both times - I just didn't want to hurt the feelings of the guy who was creating agony in order to help me.
I mean, how much does it stink to have a job where you have to hurt people at regular intervals, even though you know it's helping them in the long run??
After the painful part, which came with tips on how to stretch out at home the tissues that shrank while I was in the splint, I got some ultrasound treatment on my two broken fingers.
And let me tell you, if I could have had that on all four fingers? HEAVEN. Because it really knocked down the stiffness, and even some of the swelling. I mean, after nine weeks of sausage fingers, you are really ready to have that extra fluid go somewhere else and give your skin and joints a break. Sadly, that wasn't allowed.
But the pots of hold and cold water are. I wish I'd known about this trick before because it's amazing.
First, you have to find two pails and a way to comfortably hang out with them for twenty minutes or so while sticking your hand into them. My solution is two stock pots resting in the sink at the kitchen, and boy am I glad the condo has a double sink and not a skinny single.
Then you fill one with water as hot as you can stand, and the other with water as cold as you can stand.
Then you stick your hand in the hot water, clenching a fist and then stretching out your fingers as straight as they'll go, over and over for three minutes.
Then you plunge your hand into the cold water and make fists and stretch all over again, for half as long.
For twenty or so minutes you go back and forth with this, and the idea is to trick all the gory stuff inside your hand to wake up already and start pumping out all the excess fluid because after nine weeks it's not like it can pretend to be doing anything more impressive than learning to play poker, which frankly isn't as helpful as letting me have the use of my hand back.
In addition to the water trick, I've got some exercises to do to strengthen my wrist again. I didn't realize how far out of commission that got until my physiotherapist checked to see how far it can bend these days. OW. (again.)
All these exercises take a ton of time and just the one session with the physiotherapist was so enormously painful my hand was sore the rest of the day and I couldn't face typing a Hugs post. I couldn't even tap out an e-mail to anybody and that's pretty unusual for me.
But then today, as part of the faucet choice/fireplace installation/garbage bucket hardware crisis, when I had to pick up the faucet and try to photograph it for Andy to see? WHOA. My wrist was really, really not up for that task. And if I can't pick up a faucet, how am I going to be able to pack to move back home? I just gotta do the physio, I guess.
And if I do the physio, maybe it will hurt less when I go back for the next session. We live in hope.
Hope you've been having a great week! I'd stick around and not tell you about faucets some more, but there are some buckets of water calling my name.