I'm not generally a wimp; but this last couple of weeks my ankle has been really sore and I've been back in work; consequently I have rested when possible, meaning a respite from physio exercises - in any case Easter Monday meant I missed a session. The pain was so bad at the end of last week I went to my GP anxious that the surgery was failing. He doubled my pain killers and told me to ask the physios for their opinion on Monday.
Limping into the Physiotherapy Department on Monday morning I anticipated sympathy, foot massage and maybe a reflexology session (perhaps from the cute physio with the auburn hair). What I got was Phil the Physio - who in his spare time, is the physio for Oldham Rugby League Club:
"Ahhh, you've just got a touch of tendonitis, it's sore but you've just got to stretch through it" Said Phil in that sort of masculine tone that says 'you won't mind a bit of character building pain now will you' and I, of course, being a man at home with my personality, self worth and not subject to gender stereotypes, acquiesced and toughed it out whilst secretly wincing inside.
So, passers by my office have been intrigued by the hourly groans of pain and relief from behind my office door as I stretch my calf and tendons five times each hour. And do you know what? It actually works: when the pain is bad, you s-t-r-e-t-c-h and get that delicious combination of pain and ecstasy - like when you have cramp: on the one hand the stretch is agony, but on the other it is blessed relief.
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