Today was the last day of physical therapy at the Massry Pavilion, a total of 9 sessions. The fourth week ended up in limbo because the script, though written for 4 weeks, had an end date of Sept. 12, and I understand Medicare is fussy about those things.
The activities on machines have gotten progressively more challenging, but that's okay with me; today I did the weights on the leg lift machine with my left, weaker, leg, with 10 lb. weights, whereas I had been using both legs to lift 30 lbs. The step and lunge exercises seem simple, but are surprisingly challenging; it' s harder without a machine to rage against. Sandie measured the ROM at 118 degrees. My other knee was at 127 when I finished PT last year, and I think it's more now, so I still have room for improvement on the new knee. My next appointment with the orthopedist is in November, but I think he'll be happy with my ROM as is.
Today, from my vantage point on the exercise bicycle, which is my first task, I spotted a former co-worker across the room, I think beginning his PT. I don't know what for, probably for some chronic condition like post-nasal drip judging from his voice. As he crossed in front of me, he recognized me and said hello. I returned his greeting, but I have no desire to talk to him, or with anybody else from that employ either.
Today's physical therapy was active enough to take my mind off the remaining effects from yesterday's attack of the killer bees. So that was a good thing.
I was using the hose to water the few flowers in front of my house when I felt a sharp sting in my rear. I knew it was a bee, and I've been stung several times before, but never more than once at a time. I wasn't prepared to be covered with a whole bevy of bees. Fortunately, or not, I was close to the house so I opened the front door to escape. But as I started to enter, I knew I was not alone. There were bees with me and on me. Silent, direct, take-action bees. They stung me right through my clothes, maybe even leaving their stingers in me, I'm not sure. I closed the door behind me as I ran in, and trapped several bees in the space between the doors. I took off half my clothes inside the doorway and ran into the bathroom to remove the rest. I saw a bee stinging me as I took off my shirt, and brushed the thing away. I put on a housecoat, walked into the kitchen, and was stung again, on my shoulder, under the robe. Maybe in my hair? So back to the bathroom to bend my head over and brush my hair out. Now I see a bunch of bees gathering on the front windows. I go back to the kitchen and find a fly swatter, but I hesitate. I did close the side front window and enclosed 2 bees in that space; there are more on the large picture window. If I swat one, I wonder, are the others going to come get me. I take a chance, swatting the most isolated, and throwing its corpse, or body if it's still alive, into the toilet bowl. I do this a total of 8 times, for 8 bee bodies in the bowl. I don't see any more, but I know they could be there. I assess myself for stings, and count 7: 1 on my rear end, 1 on my shoulder, 1 on my right heel, 1 on my inner arm, 2 mid-arm and 1 on my arm near the wrist.
I try remedies to alleviate the stinging: dish soap, hydrocortisone cream, toothpaste, baking soda and vinegar. Somewhat soothed, I go to pick up my dropped clothes near the front door, and a bee flies out and gets me--for the final time, I hope.
The stinging is soothed, but through the night, the itching starts. I could scratch forever, but I go through the above regimen again, and finally find relief with ice. But in the morning, more of the itch. I take donated Benadryl after I drive home, and hope for the best.
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