Mark Time...March

From ROTC marching drills to the elite and flawlessly executed marching drills of Marines, marking time ensures a unit will mobilize simultaneously, or movements are synced with mental or verbal commands. Today's PT included an exercise straight from the archives of marching drills, so to speak. The sole purpose of any therapy, in my case physical recall, is to restore a delicate chain of command. Each muscle group associated with a simple movement requires coordination, which requires impulses of cooperation.

Here lays the present dilemma; the hamstring of the affected leg refusing to mark time with the opposite rising-bending knee. However, the brain being the HNIC will continue to feed the information until that particular squad follows suit. The good news is the uncooperative actions of the hamstring are temporary due to the knowledge of how to execute said action lays dormant awaiting that "ah-ha," moment.

With all the various drama involved in the recuperating, life still continues to introduce or reintroduce itself in the guise of zero balances and late payments, spouse medical emergencies and just the sheer gall of attempting to move forward with prearranged plans, interrupted by an unscheduled negative tantrum. Despite the positive and inspirational quotes one may store up for the roughest of times, repetitive reminders in the verse of a song, or a fav biblical quote sometimes surfaces after the meltdown. Such was the case today when I had to choose between rescheduling my session due to circumstances beyond our control or weather the storm while completing my commitment to physically recover like my life depends on it. With all the endurance involved in my road to redemption, there is still the self-care I must administer with courage and here's that subject matter again; timing. I was instructed to remove the surgical bandages after five days. Suffice it to say, my husband was a "no show," LOL! He and ninety-nine percent of humanity cannot stomach the site of countless staples tucked safely under bandages. The surgical site, of course, looked great; medically. No infection, and delayed affection from my husband made the bandage change perfect. Bless his heart.