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Physical Therapy IV

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Today, more than three months after I broke my collarbone, I began my fourth round of physical therapy. The first time was when I had hip replacement surgery in 2000. Then I broke my right shoulder in Argentina in 2006 and my left shoulder in front of my apartment in 2016. And now it is for the latest fracture (right distal clavicle) in 2026.

The reason for the delay is that my orthopedist felt that the bone should be healed before I started putting pressure on the joint. So I made an appointment for mid-September at Athletic Physical Therapy in West Los Angeles.

I am a great believer in physical therapy. When I was a high school student in Cleveland, in volunteered in the physical therapy department of Highland View Hospital, where my mother worked as an occupational therapy assistant. My boss was the late Beth Fowles, who was probably the best boss I ever had in any of my jobs. I wasn’t involved directly in patient care, as I was not a certified therapist, but I helped inventory the equipment and do any odd jobs that needed to be done.

After I had my hip replacement surgery, I went through my first round of physical therapy. When I was finished, I walked without a limp. My landlord had the same surgery, with the same orthopedic surgeon, a year or two later. He decided that doing exercises post surgery was a waste of time. The result: He not only still limped, but fell down frequently.

After the exercises today, I feel a slight tremor at times in my right arm. That’s okay. It shows that something is beginning to happen. I know that within a few weeks, I will be able to wash under my left armpit, hitch my pants up behind my back, and tie my right shoelace without pain.

Discharged

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I Was Expecting Something Much More Demanding

If you’ll remember, I was hospitalized in November for two days and a night at UCLA’s Ronald Reagan Medical Center for losing consciousness in the bathroom in the middle of the night—either from a lack of adrenaline (my pituitary was removed years ago) or low blood pressure. If not, you can read about it in my post entitled “I Dodge a Bullet.”

Although I had been hospitalized for roughly similar reasons three times before, this time I also had an ugly hematoma on my left forehead and a broken eleventh rib.

Apparently, this qualified me for a higher level of care than previously. Also, I am now 78 years old; and the good doctors probably thought I was a shut-in. So I had eight weeks of visits from a nurse, occupational therapist, physical therapist, and even a social worker. The last official visit was today from the physical therapist, a stunningly beautiful young woman from Ecuador.

Back when I was in high school, my mother worked at a Cleveland hospital for the terminally ill. During the summers, I volunteered in the hospital’s physical therapy department—not working with patients, but mainly inventorying and storing the materials used by the therapists. Most of the department’s patients were paraplegics and hemiplegics.

Three times before, I had benefited from physical therapists who had worked with me when I had a hip replacement in 2002 and two separate broken shoulders, one from a fall in Argentina and another (on the other shoulder) closer to home. As a result, I have always respected the profession.

The home visits from the therapist sent by UCLA were likewise helpful to me. The balls of my feet have for several years been tingling from diabetic neuropathy. The exercises the therapist had me do were relatively simple, but have mitigated the neuropathy to some extent. That’s good, because I remember one of my former physicians had the same problem and had to retire when they had to amputate his feet, which exhibited a severe case of neuropathy.

So I have now been discharged from the home visits, which have been extremely helpful in transitioning me to what is to come.

An Improving Broken Shoulder

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How I Looked Before Physical Therapy

How I Looked Before Physical Therapy

Well, it looks as if I no longer qualify for that bellringer’s job. Before showing up at UCLA Rehab last week, I looked like the character above. But thanks to the skill of my physical therapists. aided and abetted by blasting caps and a jackhammer, I am able to move my arms almost as well a monkey in the trees.

This is hardly new to me. In 2002, when I had a left hip replacement, I had my first experience with physical therapy—with such success that my surgeon had to check his records to see which hip he had operated on, so natural was my walk. Then, in 2006, I slipped and fell on the ice during a blizzard in Tierra Del Fuego and cracked my humerus against a high concrete curb. Again, the PTs brought the affected limb back to life. Now, I broke the other shoulder on Saturday, March 14.

I am almost convinced that there is little that physical therapists cannot do. Well, not quite. They weren’t able to do much for the right arm of the guy in the picture below.

A Really Challenging Case for Recovering Full Range of Motion

A Really Challenging Case for Recovering Full Range of Motion

So my hearty thanks to Lynn and Prachi and their colleagues at UCLA Outpatient Rehabilitation and the miracles they accomplish.