Update

PT sucks. These people are canny. They know how to watch the opposite hand and increase the weight until I’m still not complaining, but am crushing all hell out of the handful of curtain I’ve grabbed. They tend to turn up the pain to “sheen of sweat on the forehead.” I’ve been warned that tomorrow we’re going to “turn up the workouts.” Lovely. If pain is weakness leaving the body, then I’m either getting strong, or I’ll be out of weakness soon.

The PT folks work in teams. Most of the teams appear to be made up of a male senior therapist and his team of buxom female assistants. Mine is a male senior therapist and his very intelligent, competent male assistants, all of whom have all done judo in the past. I have no idea of the competence of the other teams, but mine are awesome, and the other teams are welcome to work in the same space that we’re using.

redmed had a further medical adventure today, briefly incapacitating her other foot. This lead to my rapid return from Providence to Boston. Her grand-boss (boss’s boss) met me with my wife in a wheelchair in the lobby of the hospital.

We decided that the scooter makes an acceptable wheelchair, provided that someone is around to push / pull you around. It gets really funny if the person being pushed / pulled makes “VROOM” noises as you push her onto the elevator.

–UPDATE–

I had forgotten the abomination, the horror, that is commercials. They are interspersed, interpolated into my Battlestar Galactica.

I had previously been able to settle in and accept the raw suck of the fourth season … the random re-scattering of the characters and plotlines to support some contrived conclusion … the total departure from the coolest parts of the series and the embracing of the worst law drama aspects.

But commercials?