Wednesday, April 17, 2019 (Court Day #256)
I went to Ruby—the physical therapist my wife highly recommended—at 9:45 a.m. for my first ever physical therapy appointment. I’d never met her. She’s a stout middle-aged woman with blonde hair and a big smile. She asked about my arm. I told her about the tournament in mid-November, how it was my 7th or 8th tournament, how the elbow started hurting a day or two after, how I played through it until January 1 when it just got too painful and how I’ve been playing left-handed. How the foam roll for “Tyler Twists” was too painful to use. I also started to mention my right ankle, but at that she firmly stated, “I can only address what is on the referral.” (That is, only my elbow.)
She smiled knowingly as I told my story. “It’s not your elbow. It’s your shoulder. I could tell as soon as you sat down.” She tested my grip strength and my finger pinching power. The left grip was about 85 pounds. Right grip was a mere 5 pounds before it hurt and I stopped. After I pinched a different device she presented to my right hand, she said something to the effect of, “Remind me not to get into a finger battle with you!” Apparently, that reading was particularly strong. Bagpiping? Pickleball? Vises I use at work periodically at work? Genetics? Dunno.
She worked on my right shoulder for 5-6 minutes, saying it’s partially frozen. She said I’m compensating for my lack of shoulder range with more motion by my elbow. She said both were inflamed and I might also have some mild tearing in the elbow.
She had my lie on my back and Ruby ran the ultrasound machine over my shoulder for a while, then my elbow and forearm. She said this was to heat the deep tissues.
She then worked on my shoulder more with me pushing my elbow toward my feet while she provided resistance. She also worked on my right wrist a bit. Then she applied some tape to my elbow with the instruction to leave it for two days.
She provided several exercises/stretches, which she video recorded on my phone for me to reference. One stretch involved pushing my shoulder back using a doorframe via my arm. Another used an inflated ball held against the wall. Another, show below, used an inverted hand against the wall.
Just one example of a stretch explained by Ruby…
Palm flat against the wall.
Rotate the body away from the wall. Try to pull fingers away.
Repeat other side.
Rudy wrote up an order for four more sessions. She also gave me a couple sheets with the stretches I’m to do at least a few times each week. I scheduled the follow-up appointments at the front desk. It was now 10:45. As I had hoped, still time to play pickleball!
Derby
I got to Derby Park just after 11 a.m. All the courts were full on this beautiful day.
The view walking up to Derby Park.
I walked up to the court board and signed up in an empty box in blue, the color for “intermediate/advanced” players. I got skipped over and a few players signed up in a new box all in red, the color for purely “advanced”. (Officially, by club standards, this would be 4.0 skill and above.) There were no 4.0 players in that bunch. Tom B. (“Visor Tom”) also signed up in red in yet the next empty box.
A rarity occurred. I was mad—not at Tom in particular, more so at the other non-4.0 players that first skipped over my box. Like Wayne. (I love Wayne, but stinker!) I’m always polite, but, boy, was I complaining to Tom! “I’m better left-handed than some of these people signing up in red!” (Not my most humble moment!) I erased my blue name and rewrote it in red. “Tom, sign up in my box.” He did, erasing his name from the other box. Robin walked up. “Sign up in red in my box,” I suggested. I ducked inside the gate and Allan K. was walking up having just finished a game. “We need a fourth. Sign up in our box?” Bingo! We had a game!
Tom and I went on to win against Allan and Robin. And it wasn’t all Tom’s play that made the difference. Afterward, Allan said, “You’re playing well left-handed. When you go back to playing right-handed, are you going to play with both hands?” I told him I still play far better right-handed.
Later, in the last game, Wayne and I played against Robin and Allan. We lost. My serves fell apart a bit and I missed maybe 4-5 serves in that game. It’s that consistency thing.
About 12:30, work was “calling”. Home then to work.
Number of days on a court: 256
Number of total hours: 700.5
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