The Cane

Dad is in pain.  He wanted physical therapy for his shoulder, got it.  Then after that was over, he wanted more for his shoulder so they extended it.  Then when that was over, he wanted more therapy.  And he got it extended.

His back started bothering him, so he went to an orthopedic person.  That doc suggested therapy.  Dad went to therapy.  He likes therapy.

Cheerfully, he went to therapy for his shoulder Mondays and Wednesdays, his back/hips/legs on Tuesdays and Thursdays.  He said it was good.  Shoulder therapy stopped.  Back therapy continued.

Then last week, Dad said, "Ahh, Jeez, I can't even walk."  We heard that one night after he and Mom came home.  He was walking.  This happened before, and that's when he went to the orthopedic person.  He said exactly the same thing.

So, silly me, I asked, "Did you call the doctor?  Prewitt?"

"I'll call him tomorrow."

Dad got an appointment, went in, doc says stop the therapy, they "overdid" it.  Dad stops the therapy, doc says it's not his back.

He goes to a "rumertologist" today.  Not his bones, but his nerves (I could have told him that!!).  Tomorrow he has an MRI.  I asked him (silly me!), "When will you get the results?  Thursday?"

Dad says, "All the doctors are off because of the holiday."  Last I knew there were doctors who were not Jewish, but all right, I'll play.

"So you'll get the results on Thursday?"

Dad says, "Yeah, yeah, they'll call me on Thursday.  I don't want to wait till October."

October is next week.  Again (silly me), I ask, "Wait for what?"

"Dr. Prewitt's trying to get me into the orthopedic earlier."

He's walking with a cane (leftover from previous back surgery), but still doing the up and down stairs every night to get his ice cream.

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