Dougs

In my life I've known several people named Douglas. My best friend in junior high school, Doug Darling (isn't that a great name? I'll have to Google him and find out what he's doing), was part of the Neilson television ratings system. I didn't realize the power his family had at the time.

Another Doug was my good friend who died in 1992 of a massive heart attack. He was a gentle man, and I still miss him. A third major Doug is my godson, who now lives on the East coast and whom, sadly, we never see.

The current Doug who is having an influence on my life is my physical therapist.

Before I went into PT, while I was still in a cast, I heard nothing but horrifying tales about physical therapists. They were sadists, they were Nazis, they lived to torture their patients.

Nothing could be further from the truth. Doug - and all the PT's at the group I go to - are kind, concerned, and especially competent. "We don't believe in 'no pain, no gain,'" Doug told me when I started. He did a careful, thorough evaluation before we did any kind of exercise or stretching. He pushes me to do more than I thought I could, but he doesn't want me to hurt. He stretches muscles so they won't react as if they were going to be re-injured, but he doesn't hyper-stretch them. That would be counterproductive at best and could cause irreparable damage at worst.

Because of Doug, his expertise, his pushing, his encouragement, I can walk easily with one crutch, and without one at all for short distances around the house. That's today.

By the end of next week, I expect to be without my crutches all the time. I will probably need more therapy to strengthen the muscles that atrophied during six weeks immobilized in a cast. But I hope to be dancing again soon.

Thanks, Doug!