We started regular PT on Monday. PT to Hannah does not mean bending her knee or moving her ankle, it means squeezing two-inch princesses into pink, purple, blue or green plastic dresses and sending them all off to a ball while her new best friend (aka cute, twenty-something, spunky, female physical therapist) Sarah watches. She told me on the second day of PT that Sarah offered her some juice and she took it, but from then on she wanted to take her own water bottle. In her words: "I didn't really want to take the juice. It kind of made me feel like how I feel when I meet a new person." How did I pass this down to her! Dang it!
Anyway, today was the day we started pool PT. In the basement of the medical facility, just across from the "land" PT room is a twety by twenty foot therapy pool that sits above ground. There is a window all around the pool so you can watch them like Hippopatmuses or Polar Bears at the zoo. Since going up steps is a challenge for Hannah right now, she gets to sit in a motorized chair and get lifted and then dropped back down into the pool. Her brother was sooooooooooo jealous (ooo). She grins and giggles the whole way up and down. It makes me all tickly inside to see her sitting in that white plastic chair higher than my head with that I'm-a-special-girl look on her face. I giggle right along with her. For the forty-five minutes of pool therapy she was in her happy, cageless land where little girls have nothing hard to do and no pain to feel. I could spend the whole four months there and I think she could to. But then we have always been a little partial to a pool.
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