The Hell panel, from Heironymous Bosch's The Garden of Earthly DelightsPT doesn't stand for "physical therapy," but rather, I have discovered, "preternatural torture."
I wouldn't have thought it possible to completely exhaust my entire upper body in a mere thirty-minute session, but, boy, was I wrong. See, you can't really get full range-of-motion for the shoulders without using the chest and arm and other back muscles, plus the PT guy wanted to make sure I got some low back work, so there were the hyperextensions, while doing flyes ...
Just to see, I started counting during the rubber band reps. After I got to a hundred, I quit, it was depressing me.
My torturer -- er, therapist -- added some new stuff this go-round, including a down-on-one-knee-throwing-the-two-kilogram-ball-
at-the-mini-tramp-using-the-whole-body that gives new meaning to the word "awkward."
Hey, you're doing pretty good. You want to use a heavier ball?
Whatever you think, I said. I'm just the victim here.
At one point, when my arms melted and fell off, clunking onto the floor, no blood because the wounds were internally-cauterized, he said, "You feeling the burn? I can lower the table a little."
If I'd had control of my hands, I'd have given him the finger. Well, if I could have moved my finger ...
I did ask about Steve VH's "tool." And after I heard what that was and what it did, I was glad I didn't seem to have any scar tissue that would justify it. It sounded like a cross between an electric butter knife and bamboo slivers under the fingernails ...
Remind me not to screw up my rotator cuff again, hey?