This week began with HRH waking us up at 5AM after having thrown up in her bed. After an hour of holding her hair back while she prayed to the porcelain gods, I knew I wasn't getting to PT. I wasn't able to reschedule, either, so I was only able to go once.
The good news is that the bruising from the Astym® was nearly gone by Thursday.
The bad news is that it's back after a fresh battering.
Today, I am sore and tired. I also had my monthly chiropractor adjustment, so while I am walking a little taller again, I'm just spent. It takes me over an hour to complete all my exercises at home (almost 2 if HRH is up and is inclined to "need" something in between my sets), and since I didn't get a great deal of sleep all week (hello, summer class), I'm considering skipping some of the routine in favor of getting to bed before 11PM.
Next week is the six-week mark, which is the extent to which my ortho prescribed treatment, so I have to call his office and go in to see him, although I have scheduled out PT appointments for the rest of June.
I know that six weeks is a completely arbitrary time period, but I'm hoping for good news, either from Stephanie or my ortho. I'm not looking to be at 100%, as I know that's not realistic, but some sort of progress will be encouraging. I've gotten to another point at which I just.want.to.run. Last week, I carpooled with a co-worker to a meeting, and we passed SO many runners and cyclists on the way there and back. I was shocked at my envy toward all of them, even though in the afternoon, they were out there in the already brutal Arizona sun. For the last week, then, I've been having a bit of a pity party, so some good news will surely refocus me on the positives rather than the can'ts.