Long story short, physio was completely ignorant and gave me the boilerplate “End Of Physio Course” speech that I’d already had from C3, and seen my best friend get given twice from C1; “So, that’s a big improvement – If we discount [all the things that have worsened] and focus instead on [single episode of something which wasn’t literally torture] then this has been a big success!” whilst giving themselves a nice big pat on the back and talking over the patient.
In this case, he asked how often I’d been swimming since last I saw him. “Once or twice” I said. And he responded “See, that’s really good, more than you’ve done in the last six months!”
I took a long look. I twitched.
“I’ve been swimming. Three times a week. Since March. You based everything you’ve said to me in our last two sessions around this fact.”
“Ohh.” he said “I forgot.”
“And the Positive Care Programme – That was all pseudoscience.”
“Well, it was just a suggestion!”
“And the health trainer thing – Didn’t operate in my area”
“Oh well. But you went swimming! So one out of three isn’t bad!”
And he smiled the smile of someone who was incredibly happy to take the credit for someone else’s progress, when what he’d actually done was destroy their self-esteem and ruin their enthusiasm for keeping in shape.
Anyway, that was my last physio session. I’ve handed a copy of my London letter, and my Rheumatology letter to my GP, and I’m going to focus on getting in shape for Stanmore. And continuing my rampant autodidactism on all things physiotherapy.