I'll be honest with you - I have a tendency to over think matters. I like to amass as much data about a subject as I can and sift it for about 14 years before committing to a course of action. Also, having a basic working knowledge of a subject allows one to fool oneself into believing one has some control over this capricious circus turn we call life. Usual fanciful male guff.
In some regards, this completist mindset is a boon. Knowing how to fix a bicycle has come to my rescue at the roadside many many times over the years for example. But it quickly and unhelpfully spills over into paranoid inaction. One vacillates until aficionado status has been attained, but by then the decision horse has bolted to Poland.
As I've reported in these pages recently, I'm "under the physio". My knee (my good one, mind you) has been giving me gyp. The physio gave me some exercises to perform, and the errant joint is little-by-little pulling its socks up. But as it gets better, I've grown bored with blind faith in the physio's regime and have started reading-up about this fascinating joint. (Yeah, I know).
And it is a fascinating subject. I know I'm wielding the weak anthropic principle with abandon here, but indulge me for a mo. It's so elegantly and effortlessly fit for purpose, the human knee. It really is a triumph. Forget your Dyson cheese grater or your iPhone, the knee knocks them both into a cocked hat. And you've got two knees dangling out the bottom of your underpants. (Apologies to those of you who have less than the usual complement of legs. No offence intended.)
But there's a problem. As one's knowledge of the workings of the knee increases, one becomes dangerously self-conscious while using them. This is bad. I find myself constantly assessing the biomechanics of my gait as I mince across the office to the printer. This over-analysis causes me to walk like Godzilla in desert boots. Not a good look for your middling office Johnny, comme moi.
How on earth do physios cope?
No comments:
Post a Comment