ACL AGAIN

I went back to the surgeon for another follow-up recently. The appointment felt familiar — hopeful, cautious, and a little bit emotionally neutral all at the same time. Every time I go in, we both think this will probably be the last round of physical therapy.  And every time, it isn’t. This time was no different. Eight more weeks of PT. At this point, I don’t really let myself get my hopes up about being “done.” I’ve learned that recovery doesn’t follow the timeline you imag

I’m about a month out from my next appointment with the surgeon—and for the first time in a long time, that timeline feels exciting instead of heavy. I switched physical therapy offices recently. Translation: I voluntarily signed up to be tortured by blood flow restriction therapy. If you know, you know. It’s uncomfortable, humbling, and wildly effective. The kind of work that reminds you progress isn’t always pretty—but it’s always earned. What’s different this time is my mi

I really thought physical therapy might be winding down. That little spark of hope showed up quietly—maybe this is it, maybe I’m finally done. But nope. I saw the surgeon again, and he prescribed another round of PT. After two surgeries in a year, my quad just isn’t bouncing back the way it should. Muscle strength is still lagging, and apparently, we’re not done yet. To add another layer, I also have to switch physical therapy offices. My current clinic doesn’t offer blood fl