Therapy pictures

First of all, I'll show you a picture I took here at home today of my scar, which is fast disappearing.  Today it's been four weeks since surgery.

The new knee is bigger than my other one, and as I understand it, always will be.  The therapist is very proud of how loose my kneecap is for some reason.  Cliff couldn't believe he could move the thing around like he did.  Whatever.  At least it didn't hurt.

As soon as I arrive at the Serc Therapy location, I warm up for five minutes on the exercise bike.  This is probably the easiest thing I do while I'm there.  I walk in without a limp, but I'm usually limping as I exit.  

Today I had to stretch this big elastic band as far as possible in all directions, not only with my surgical leg, but also the other one.  This wasn't too bad either, although it worked me pretty hard.  
My therapist's main goals are to get my knee to bend as far as possible, and to get my leg to straighten out as straight as possible.  I have the bending part pretty well handled, and Micah, my therapist, barely tortured me at all today on that score; instead, he let me torture myself.

  There's a stretchy piece of inner tube (OK, a piece of rubber) attached to my ankle, and my job is to pull the ankle as close to my buttocks as possible.  Micah threatens me to pull as far as possible, or he'll have to hurt me more.  Seriously, doesn't it seem like this would break a new artificial knee?    

After doing a few choice exercises, I lie with my ankle propped up on a towel and a weight above my knee, forcing my leg to straighten out.  Last week this hurt immensely; today, not as much.  

This HURTS!  I dare any post-knee-replacement patient to keep from groaning while the therapist leans all his weight on her knee, forcing the leg flat on the table.  I told Cliff the pain is comparable to childbirth in its intensity.  Thank goodness it doesn't last as long as giving birth.  

This is the guy whose appointment is just before mine.  I've known him longer than I've known Cliff, from the church my parents and I attended in the 60's; and Cliff worked with his wife, Joan, for many years at the Country Butcher Shop.  He told Cliff, "These guys will make tears come to your eyes."  
Amen, brother John.