Yesterday morning at quarter to ten, I had my first physio. appointment. It went a bit like this:
I was sitting in the little room in my jeans, tank-top and sweater, freezing to death when the physiotherapist came in and introduced himself. His name was Randall.
He asked me a few questions regarding where the pain is, and how I’d classify the pain, etc. No big deal. Then he asked me to stand up so he could have me do a few stretches.
I bent to the sides and to the back as instructed when he cut in and said, “Wow! Are you ever flexible!” and asked that I take off my sweater. I assumed it was so he could see my back better, and complied.
As soon as the sweater was on the chair, he asked me to face him and touch my toes. This is when I thought, “WTF? There is NO way I am going to stand here perky nipped and bend over so you can look down my shirt!” So, I turned to the side. His response, “Well, I guess we can do it that way.”
A few minutes later he asked me to, on my hands and knees, get on the table. Once up there he instructed me to arch my back, then sag it (sticking my butt in the air). The second time he asked me to arch, he moved around behind me and asked that I let my back, again, sink into the opposite. With this, he said, “You have got a great sag!”
The next thing he asked me to do was lie on my back. Once I had, he started stretching my legs up and pushing them torwards my face. I was wondering what relevance this had to what I was there for, when he said it had none. He just “wanted to see”.
Once done my contortion performance he got me to lay on my side. With his hand on my back feeling the movement of my vertebrates, he moved my legs up and down, ever so slightly rubbing them across his manliness.
I have to go back in two weeks.