Pray for my Friend

Okay.  I need everybody to pray for my Friend.  The Physical Therapist's Assistant Lady.  She's a dear little woman who has been doing deep heat massages on my injured leg the past six weeks.  She is always quite Opinionated about most everything.  She has it all figured out, even the stuff that hasn't happened yet.

She is very Free with her advice and knowledge.  About everything.  Raising children these days, cooking vs. eating out, Being Responsible, proper Care of a torn calf muscle, and various other sundry issues most of which you have never even heard of.

I am feeling rather Victorious this week because I am finally being able to walk in public without excessive Gawking and Exclamations from people whom I have never met.  For the past 5 weeks, I have walked with a very awkward and pronounced limp and not without quite a bit of Pain involved in the process.

The DOCTOR himself, whom I would imagine has had quite a bit more schooling than the Physical Therapist's Assistant Lady informed me early on that the position of the tear and the muscle involved was going to be most painful when my foot was flat.  Therefore, since the position of the tear meant I could not be fitted for a boot with a raised heel, my most comfortable way of getting from Point A to Point B would be in a raised heel shoe.  So, this I have done.  For the past five weeks.

MUCH to the chagrin of the Physical Therapist's Assistant Lady.  She did not agree with that assessment. And railed Loudly at me every time I went for an appointment until the Physical Therapist told her the doctor himself had told me to do that.

Well, would you just listen to this!  At today's appointment, the Physical Therapist was not in.  One of his substitutes was.  But my Friend, the Physical Therapist's Assistant Lady, was totally there.  Oh yessireeBob.  Never would she be absent from work, not that one!

So in a voice the substitute therapist girl could hear, the PTAL begin telling me that I had my heels on again and that it wasn't going to get well for months on end if I didn't stop wearing them.  I turned to her and very Quietly, very Politely, reminded her that the Doctor Himself had told me wear them.  She said of course he did because I wouldn't be quiet about it and he finally just gave in but it wasn't what he really wanted.

Can you believe that?

I did not respond.  I turned my face away and Prayed an Earnest Prayer for God's Presence to fill me Quickly.

I have six more weeks of therapy left.  So, somebody needs to pray for the Physical Therapist's Assistant Lady.

I am thinking of praying that she would experience something that would help her to better understand the Plight of Future Patients who may experience a torn calf muscle.  (There is nothing which helps one empathize any better than having been there yourself...)  Heretofore I have not prayed that, you understand, I just said I am thinking of praying that...

Better yet, pray for Me.