PHYSICAL THERAPY: PART ONE.

About six weeks after surgery, my surgeon said it was time to start physical therapy. I had been done some basic leg stretching exercises given to me by the home health physical therapist, but this was the big show.

I did quite a bit of research about where to go. I wanted to go to a clinic that had Pilates equipment; my last round of PT three years ago included Pilates and it was extremely effective (until I stopped). I also wanted to go to a clinic that was privately owned by a former physical therapist - these clinics tend to be more patient focused and more invested in your treatment and recovery than PT clinics that are operated by large health systems focused on volume. Just a personal choice.

I was fortunate to find just the clinic I was looking for, even though it is a 30 mile round trip. I started PT in January when temperatures in Las Vegas hovered in the 50s. My sessions always began with 1o minutes on a big heating pad (my favorite part of therapy!) The PT would then come over and do some mobility exercises, then assign me various exercises to do in clinic. Each visit started with heat and each visit built on previous exercises along with new exercises. I noticed that some of my stamina and energy was returning and that I was feeling stronger. At this point, I was faithfully attending PT three times a week while still doing exercises at home and 20 minutes of the elliptical at the gym.

About four weeks later, my PT recommended I start the physical therapy version of Pilates, a thirty minute session using a Pilates reformer to further strengthen my core. As the physical therapist described it, I want my abdominal core muscles to form a corset that will hold my spine in place and prevent it from moving when I move. All of my movements should engage those core muscles whether I am emptying the dishwasher or braking when I drive. I was pretty excited to get started.

I arrived for my first official session and met Shane, a lovely former Las Vegas showgirl who has been a dancer since she was two. After tiring of dancing on the strip she delved into Pilates study and became a certified instructor. The combination of Shane's knowledge of Pilates, her understanding of the limitations of my condition, and her incredible personality was an instant match.

I cannot stress the importance of finding physical therapists and other people involved in your recovery that you click with. These people will see you on good days and bad, and need to inspire and motivate on the bad days and celebrate the good days - if your preferred method of motivation is bootcamp style, know that, and the same goes for those who prefer a more nurturing form of motivation.

Do what works for you - a good relationship with your "partners in recovery" helps you get to the clinic on days when you want nothing more than to settle in on the couch with a couple extra pain pills; days where the pain is worse than it was yesterday and you distinctly remember being told you would feel "so much better" after surgery; days where you just don't have any extra energy to face your recovery and would rather reflect on life before your body became your worst "frenemy." Shane has been that person for me and I owe much of my recovery to her. Her optimistic attitude and wonderful sense of humor made me commit to never complain during therapy and to push through the soreness and fatigue. I was lucky to be here so this is a No Bitching Zone.

We started off with very basic reformer exercises and the importance of breathing, scooping the belly button into the spine, and pulling in your pelvic floor (which has other benefits, ahem, I might add). These movements train you to stabilize your core, that all-important cluster of muscles, with every movement. Although the sessions were 30 minutes three times a week, it was a quick thirty minutes. I realized I LIKED this kind of exercise! And I felt muscles I didn't know I had after each session, slowly feeling stronger and more aware of my body, a body that had turned its back on me (for lack of a better word) a long time ago, a body that was finally deciding to call a truce.