“To
join with my patients as a partner in the task of restoring dignity to a broken
spirit. This is the true meaning of rehabilitation.”—Dr. Paul Brand
Therapy of any kind is
hard, courageous work. It forces you to
confront your limitations, to come face to face with your vulnerabilities, and
yet I believe there is beauty to be found within the experience. This spring I was working with a physical
therapist to strengthen my hip flexor muscles.
The right side of my body seemed to respond easily to the motion; my
left was a different story. For what
seemed like a solid minute, I lay on the table and with every ounce of mental
energy I could muster, I told my left leg to move in a certain direction. It would not budge. Eventually, other muscles kicked in to
compensate and I moved about an inch. My
therapist recognized my struggle and said to me, “Is your left side a little
tighter than your right?”
“Yes,” I
responded. “I think I just met my
match.”
“It’s okay.”
I felt so dignified in that moment, like I had just
been given space to struggle without being judged. In fact, I felt like I had a cheerleader
standing beside me. In light of this experience, I asked
one of my former physical therapists to respond to this question: “What beauty have you discovered in helping
people who have encountered an injury or disability gain a greater sense of
movement?” Enjoy what Connie Bromaghim
has to share!
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“At first glance, I
thought the answer would be easy to write as I recalled patients I’ve had over
the more than thirty years in the profession. I remembered as a young therapist
in Duluth, MN, organizing “an old-time dance” activity for the post-stroke rehab
patients. The beauty came in their smiling faces upon hearing some favorite
polkas and waltzes as they tried harder to move their arms and legs that no
longer ‘danced” the way they once did.
Then, I recalled the
beauty in a young man injured in a motorcycle accident. After re- learning to
walk, we walked outside in the sunshine. He heard sounds he’d not recently heard
while in the hospital and he felt the wind blow. He bent down to feel the grass
and a smile lit his face. Finding that he had to get up from the ground in a
different way really didn’t matter because he was so delighted to be outside
again.
Pediatric patients like
Jenny were always especially fun because I always felt challenged to make
necessary exercises playful, if possible. Rehab can be daunting, exercises can
be tough, but less so if the focus is on a game that achieves the same outcome.
Beauty is found when helping a patient accomplish rehab goals with optimism,
pride, confidence, and feeling good with one’s “new-normal.”
I’ve spent most of my
years in physical therapy working with chronic pain patients. These individuals
often feel disabled because pain interferes with their lifestyle, perhaps their
every movement. Beauty comes when they learn, and are committed to doing new techniques,
to manage their pain because they find that their spirit feels better too. And,
that’s the key. For me, it is beautiful when I know I have found the right
connections and built a rapport that helps patients move forward with new strategies
to feel better, even if not totally pain free.
For the challenge is
not solely in accomplishing an exercise program but in developing the
understanding to want to change, breaking down tasks to simple components and achieving
small successes that eventually lead to bigger, more positive successes. When
that happens, there truly is beauty and grace in those new-normal movements because
they are done more confidently, with a spirit that moves more freely.”
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| Using my Gumby and Pokey toys as part of rehab with Connie 1989. |
