#acl rehab

[ineedfairypee]

When your anxiety convinces you that it’s been so long something must have gone wrong but you can’t check if something’s gone wrong cause if it has then the people who could tell you something’s gone wrong would need space 😩😭💔

(She was absolutely fine and came out wearing the hilarious T-shirt I made her)

[americarept]

AmeriCare is here to meet your needs, and help you achieve your functional goals!

The team of therapists at AmeriCare Physical Therapy pride themselves in providing you with the highest quality of care. Their primary goal is creating positive therapy sessions through clinical excellence, as well as to give amazing customer service.

Our mission is to provide quality care for a better quality of life.

Since 2006, AmeriCare Physical Therapy has remained a trusted cornerstone of the community, transforming lives and restoring mobility to countless individuals. From injury recovery to chronic pain management and athletic performance enhancement, AmeriCare‘s team is dedicated to empowering patients to reach their fullest potential. 

AmeriCare Physical Therapy is dedicated to serving you with a goal to maximize your body’s potential — they care for and listen to your needs, providing consistent evidence-based therapy to maximize mobility and function, getting you back on the road to recovery at the earliest possible time.

[medifact]

After you regain muscle control, it's time to build strength. This helps you put full weight on your leg. For best results, warm up and stretch before starting. If your injury is recent, wait until swelling and pain decrease before doing this exercise.

[thankyouforthememoriesworld]

Another lost Azzi Fudd podcast from April 2020! You gotta get through a bunch of intro stuff to get to her and the sound cuts in and out but it is still great! The hosts love her and seem to know her.

Lol she mentions that when she comes back from FIBA tournaments, the three point line in high school is like a pull up for her. That made me laugh.

She talks about Paige during that first tryout at USA basketball in a bit more detail.

As the hosts say, she's just so well-spoken and poised.

Hardest quote for sure was: "I don't count shots I take, I count makes." And she makes 500 shots a day.

Enjoy!

https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/BallNGems/episodes/2021-Top-Prospect-5-11-PG-Azzi-Fudd-ec8lo0

-🔎

I think this is my favorite podcast of hers, the hosts have fun and really highlight her personality and what an incredible player she is. Plus, her voice is crystal clear, which makes me want to ask Azzi to do more podcasts and interviews; I could listen to her for hours.

Of course, she had to bring up Paige and how great she is but I guess they did ask a related question so I'll let it pass.

And my fav quotes: "And also getting to compete against the boys, getting to shoot against them and beating them is also a lot of fun 😏".

However, this one like you said was cold af:

[queenkevindays]

scoups and jeonghan on hiatus is literally a taster for when they enlist 😭

[ishikawayukis]

why do some carats think that coups is faking his injury just because he can walk....... you have internet you can search how physical therapy works

[dr-aashish-arbat-pune]

ACL Tear Exercises Without Surgery

Learn here all about: ACL Tear Exercises Without Surgery. Know about, Long-Term Effects of ACL Tear Without Surgery. Grade 3 ACL Tear No Surgery. Complete ACL Tear Treatment Without Surgery. ACL Strengthening Exercises. ACL Tear Without Surgery Recovery Time… from Dr. Aashish Arbat… Top Orthopedic Doctor in Pune. Top ACL Surgeon in Pune.

[akuasucc]

neymar whackings all on my tl yasss

[docphysio]

Embrace Your Unique Journey with Psoriasis

[drrahulbada]

Do’s and Don’ts After Surgery

After knee surgery, there is no doubt you will encounter challenges and pain on the path to recovery. While it will seem difficult, and maybe even impossible at times, try to remember that what happens after your surgery is just as essential to the overall success of the procedure as the surgery itself. Here are some do’s and don’ts to help you along the road to recovery:

DO take rehabilitation seriously

When you return home after surgery, it’s important to follow your doctor’s instructions carefully. This includes performing all exercise prescribed by your physical therapist – even when it’s uncomfortable. While you may experience some pain and frustration, keep in mind that some experts say 50 percent of a positive outcome is dependent on the patient’s willingness to work hard in physical therapy and rehab. So try your best to stick with it! The end result will be worth the effort. Taking medications as prescribed and getting plenty of sleep are also important to help your knee heal properly.

DO use ice and heat

According to the American Academy of Orthopaedic Surgeons, swelling after knee surgery can last for three to six months after surgery. To help reduce inflammation and pain, it’s generally recommended you use an ice pack three to four times a day for about 10-20 minutes during the first few days after surgery. After the initial swelling has gone down, you can alternate between ice and heat to relax the muscles and ease stiffness. Speak to your doctor or physical therapist if ice doesn’t help with swelling, or if you think you might benefit for longer periods of ice or heat.

DO strive to be your healthiest self

Keeping your body healthy will encourage faster healing after surgery. If you smoke, make an effort to cut back or stop; smoking shrinks your blood vessels, which makes the healing process slower. Avoid drinking alcohol if you are taking a blood thinner or narcotic pain medications. Keep your weight down, as extra pounds put greater pressure on your knee and can slow your recovery. And finally, strengthen the muscles in your legs and improve overall blood flow by participating in low-impact activities such as walking, swimming or peddling a stationary bike once your doctor gives you the green light.

DON’T put unnecessary stress on your knee

Avoid lifting heavy objects, and when you turn to face a different direction, make sure you turn your entire body and avoid twisting your knee. To help you be mindful of your form when you bend down, kneel and sit, it’s a good idea to review these movements with your physical therapist so that he or she can help you learn how to do them safely.

DON’T schedule other surgical procedures while you’re recovering

Consult a physician before scheduling dental work or other surgical procedures, especially on your bladder or intestines, as these may lead to infection in your healing knee.

DON’T give up!

Remember, all individuals and surgeries are different. People progress at different rates and heal on their own time. Be patient with yourself and give yourself praise for the accomplishments you make along the way. If you are experiencing problems during recovery, be sure to call your doctor as soon as possible to ensure proper healing and prevent further health issues.

[orthopedicsurgeon2]

Meniscus tears

Meniscus tears are among the most common knee injuries. Athletes, particularly those who play contact sports, are at risk for meniscus tears. However, anyone at any age can tear a meniscus. Three bones meet to form your knee joint: your thighbone (femur), shinbone (tibia), and kneecap (patella). There are two pieces of shock-absorbers between the thigh bone and the leg bone. These are called meniscus. They are tough and rubbery to help cushion the joint and keep it stable.

[radianmobility]

Know the Features of the Radian App | Radian Mobility

With in-app exercise prescriptions, smart notifications, patient logs, and data reports, patients and physiotherapists are in communication throughout the recovery journey.

[kneehab]

six and seven months

Wow, I’ve been really slacking on ACL updates! I think that’s probably okay because there is not significant to share. At this point, slow or no news is good news, I think!

Everything is great. I never think about my knee except when I am squatting deeply at heavy weights (my left quad shakes sometimes) and in physical therapy. The other thing is, my left knee creaks and cracks a bit when I do plies in fourth or fifth position (oh yeah, I’m taking a beginner ballet class as cross training for aerial silks!).

I think the general pattern is that it’s noisy still during newer movements and the quad shakes and is generally still weaker than my right quad. I’m working on that, but if I’m being honest, motivation to hit the ACL-recovery specific gym exercises has waned a bit.

At this point, I’m doing aerial silks twice per week, a beginner (truly, so beginner) adult ballet class once per week, strength training two-three times per week (two being personal training), and running every other day at 3-4 miles each time. So it’s a lot of activity and that makes me so happy! But because I’m not really missing anything from my life anymore, I feel a bit less motivated to get to 100% leg strength symmetry.

But I know it’s important and I am trying to hit at least the knee extension machine and squats 2-3 days per week. Last time we tested it was a bit over 80% symmetry, I would imagine it’s a bit higher now.

Very excited to get to that 9 month mark, after which re-tear risk drops off even more significantly. I’ll try to update this post later today or tomorrow with some photos of my quads. There’s definitely still a visual difference in size/muscle tone but I think it’s less so, and when I flex my left quad there’s totally muscle there. And to be fair, my right quad is getting stronger too, so my left quad not only has to get back to previous normal, but also catch up!

[p0orbaby]

It Doesn’t Get Any Easier

summary: you’re the new physio, tasked to help leah one on one with her recovery; but lines start to blur the longer you spend with one another

warnings: none

a/n: i enjoyed this one. also trying out a slightly different style so let me know what you think

word count: 2.8k

-

Leah comes in every morning just after 7:30, always a little earlier than the rest of the team—well, what’s left of the team—who roll in around 8, give or take. You start noticing her patterns by the second week. It’s not intentional. It’s just that she’s hard not to notice. The way she slips into the room quietly, moving like a shadow, like she’s trying not to be seen even though she’s Leah Williamson and there’s something impossible about Leah Williamson going unnoticed. You’re not sure she’s aware of it, or maybe she is, maybe it’s part of the act, something people like her learn over time—how to balance being seen and unseen simultaneously. Either way, she always acknowledges you. It’s a brief nod or a soft “Morning” that comes out like a sigh. But it’s there. And you nod back because it’s professional, it’s polite.

You’re the new physio, brought in because someone higher up decided that ACLs are the new pandemic, and Arsenal’s hit hard by it. One by one, players dropping like flies—tears, rips, stretches that aren’t supposed to stretch. Someone needed to focus on rehab, on these slow and tedious one-on-one sessions. So, here you are. Your life has become a revolving door of knee braces, resistance bands, ultrasound machines, and cold compression therapy. A strange, repetitive kind of intimacy.

Leah is assigned to you. "Take care of her," they say. She’s a captain. She’s the face. There’s an unsaid urgency that comes with her, an invisible asterisk by her name. You feel it in every briefing, every passing mention of her progress. Everyone’s waiting for her return. Waiting for her to be fixed.

Your first session with her is awkward. Stilted. You’re overly conscious of how she sits, her knee elevated, her eyes on the ceiling, like she’s counting the tiles instead of looking at you. The air smells faintly of antiseptic and that weird plastic-y scent that medical equipment always has. You ask her the standard questions: pain level, range of motion, any stiffness. She answers with one-word responses, tight-lipped. There’s a distance between you that you can’t quite figure out if it’s professional or personal. Maybe both.

-

Weeks pass, and the routine becomes muscle memory. You know when to push and when to pull back. How to make her laugh, how to coax her into stretching just a little more without her getting defensive. You start to notice the little things about her. Like how she always wipes her hands on her shorts after you adjust the brace on her leg, or how she clicks her tongue when she’s frustrated, a soft noise that barely registers unless you’re paying attention, which you are. You’re always paying attention to Leah.

It’s in the middle of a session that things shift. You’re guiding her through a series of exercises—balance work, stuff that’s boring but essential—and she’s sweating, biting her lip as she focuses on not wobbling. You’re right there, hands out, ready to catch her if she stumbles. She doesn’t, but the proximity is there. Too close, maybe. Your fingers brush her waist as you correct her form, and she inhales sharply. You freeze, but she doesn’t move. Neither do you.

"Is this okay?" you ask, your voice lower than usual, and you’re not sure why. Maybe it’s the weight of her stare, those sharp blue eyes locking onto yours.

"Yeah," she says, but her voice sounds strained, like she’s not sure it’s the right answer. She’s not looking at you anymore, her focus now on the floor, her hands gripping the sides of the bench like she needs to anchor herself. The room feels smaller, the air thick.

You pull back, step away, putting space between you, but it doesn’t feel like enough. You can still feel the echo of her skin under your fingers, the heat of her proximity. You clear your throat, force a smile. "Let’s take five”

She nods, doesn’t say anything, just grabs her water bottle and takes a long drink, her throat working, a bead of sweat rolling down her neck. You turn away, pretend to be adjusting something on the ultrasound machine even though it’s perfectly fine, just to give yourself something to do, something that isn’t thinking about how her skin felt under your hands.

-

The next time around is more tense. There’s an unspoken tension now, like a line has been crossed, or maybe it hasn’t, but it’s close. You’re hyper-aware of every movement, every brush of skin. Leah doesn’t mention it, but there’s a change in her too. She flirts, subtly at first—offhand comments, jokes that land just a little too close to something more. You laugh, play along, because it’s harmless. It’s nothing. Except it’s not.

You catch yourself watching her more. The way her muscles ripple under her skin as she moves, the way her lips part when she’s concentrating, how her eyes flick to you when she thinks you’re not looking. You wonder if she notices you doing the same. You wonder if she feels it too—this thing simmering between you that’s becoming harder to ignore.

One day, after a session, she lingers. The rest of the team has filtered out of the gym, and it’s just the two of you, the hum of the air conditioning the only sound.

"Thanks for today," she says, her voice soft. She’s sitting on the edge of the bench, her knee still wrapped in the brace, but she looks more relaxed than she has in weeks. There’s something in her eyes, something you can’t quite read, and it makes your chest tighten.

"It’s my job," you say, but the words feel hollow. You’ve been telling yourself that for weeks now, trying to convince yourself that this is just work, that this is just another injured player, another knee to fix. But it’s not. You’re not sure when it stopped being just that, but it has.

"Is it, though?" she asks, and her voice is lighter now, teasing, but there’s an edge to it. A challenge.

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry. "What do you mean?"

She stands, slowly, her movements careful, deliberate. She’s close to you now, too close again, and you don’t step back this time. "I think you know what I mean," she says, her eyes locked on yours, and you feel like you’re standing on the edge of something dangerous.

You don’t have an answer, or maybe you do but you don’t trust yourself to say it out loud. The air between you crackles with something electric, something that feels inevitable.

She leans in, just a fraction, and you freeze, your heart pounding in your chest. You could close the distance. You could kiss her, right here, right now, and no one would know. It would be easy. Too easy.

But you don’t.

Instead, you step back. You force a smile. "We should stick to the plan. Don’t want to push the knee too hard too soon”

It’s a cop-out, and you both know it. The shift in her expression is almost imperceptible, but you catch it—the brief flicker of disappointment before she masks it with a shrug.

"Right. The knee," she says, her tone casual, but the tension is still there, hanging between you like a thin thread ready to snap. She doesn’t push it, though. Instead, she grabs her bag, slings it over her shoulder, and heads for the door. But just before she leaves, she glances back at you, her eyes sharp, like she’s trying to figure you out, trying to decide if this is a game or something else entirely.

You stand there for a long time after she’s gone, the gym feeling too big, too empty. You can still feel the weight of her gaze, the heat of her body close to yours. You tell yourself it’s just work, just rehab. But deep down, you know it’s not that simple.

It’s never that simple.

-

The sessions after that are different. There’s a push and pull now, a tension that neither of you acknowledges but is impossible to ignore. Flirting turns into something sharper, more pointed, like you’re both testing the limits, seeing how far you can go before something breaks. But nothing breaks, not really. Not yet.

Then one night, you cross the line. It’s late, the training ground is empty, and Leah’s the last one in the gym. You’re both exhausted, worn down by weeks of slow progress, of frustrations mounting. The conversation starts off innocuous—something about her recovery timeline, how she’s feeling. But it shifts quickly. There’s an edge to her voice, a sharpness that cuts through the usual banter.

"Why do you keep pulling back?" she asks, and there’s nothing light in her tone now. It’s serious. She’s serious.

You blink, thrown off. It’s late, the harsh fluorescent lights above cast everything in this sterile, washed-out glow that makes you feel like you’re in a hospital, or some kind of waiting room where nothing feels real, nothing matters. Leah’s standing in front of you, close but not too close, not like before, but close enough that you feel it—the weight of her presence, the space she occupies, the air between you vibrating, charged with something neither of you is willing to name but it’s there. It’s been there for weeks. Maybe longer.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say, but it’s a lie and you both know it. You’re tired, too tired to come up with something convincing, and it’s the way she’s looking at you now, like she’s seeing through every excuse you’ve built up, every wall you’ve thrown up between you because you know you have to, because you’re the physio, you’re supposed to be the professional, the one who stays detached, clinical, objective. You’re supposed to care about her body, her knee, not the rest of her. Not this.

But the truth is, you do care, too much, and it’s bleeding into everything. Into the way you touch her during sessions, the way your fingers linger just a little too long on her skin when you’re adjusting the brace, or the way your pulse speeds up when she leans back on the bench, sweat glistening on her forehead, the tendrils of her hair stuck to her neck, and you wonder what it would feel like to brush them away. You know you shouldn’t, that it’s a line you can’t cross, but the line’s blurred now, so faint you can barely see it anymore.

Leah narrows her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s wearing an old Arsenal training kit, the fabric worn and soft, the logo faded from too many washes, and you notice that she tugs at the hem of her shirt when she’s frustrated, twisting it around her fingers like she’s trying to keep her hands busy, like she doesn’t know what else to do with them. “You’re not stupid,” she says, and her voice is sharp, but there’s something underneath it—something vulnerable, like she’s exposing a part of herself she doesn’t want to, but she can’t help it. “You know exactly what I mean”

She’s right. Of course she’s right. You’re not stupid. You know why you’ve been pulling back. Why you’ve been keeping your distance. It’s because this—whatever this is—is dangerous. It’s complicated. It’s wrong in a way that’s hard to define but easy to feel, like a low hum in the back of your mind that you can’t shake. And yet, the more you try to stay away, the more you find yourself drawn to her. Like gravity. Like something you can’t control, no matter how hard you try.

“It’s not that simple,” you say, and your voice sounds hollow even to your own ears. You’re aware of how this looks—two people alone in a gym, the air thick with unspoken tension, the kind of tension that feels like it’s been building for a long time and is about to spill over. You glance at the clock on the wall—it’s almost 10 a.m.—and you wonder how it got so late, how time seems to bend around her, how hours slip by when you’re with her but still, its never enough. There’s always more, always something unsaid hanging in the air between you.

Leah uncrosses her arms, taking a step closer. You can see the faint scar on her knee, the way the skin’s still a little pink, a little raw, and it’s a reminder of why you’re here, what your job is, but all you can think about is the way her eyes are locked on yours, unflinching. “I’m not asking for simple,” she says quietly, and there’s an intensity in her voice that catches you off guard. “I’m asking for honest”

The word hangs in the air, heavy, and you feel something in your chest tighten. Honest. You think about what that would look like. What it would feel like to stop pretending, to stop playing this game where you act like you don’t notice the way she looks at you, the way your body reacts to hers. You think about what it would mean to cross that line, to give in to what’s been building between you. The consequences. The fallout. The way it would shift everything irreparably, and yet, the thought doesn’t scare you as much as it should.

You take a breath, slow, steady, trying to collect yourself, trying to find the right words, but they’re all tangled up in your head, a mess of things you can’t say, shouldn’t say. “Leah,” you start, but you don’t know how to finish the sentence, because there’s no good way to say what you’re thinking, no good way to explain the way your heart speeds up when she’s near, the way your skin prickles under her eyes, the way your mind drifts to her at night when you’re lying in bed, staring into the darkness, replaying moments in your head that shouldn’t matter but do.

She’s watching you, waiting, and you can feel the weight of her expectation, the way she’s daring you to say something real, something that matters. And maybe it’s the exhaustion, or maybe it’s the fact that you’re tired of pretending, tired of holding back, but something inside you cracks, just a little, just enough.

“I’ve been trying to keep this professional,” you say, and the words come out in a rush, tumbling over themselves like they’ve been waiting to escape. “Because I have to. Because I don’t know how else to do this without—” You stop, shaking your head, because it sounds ridiculous, it sounds like an excuse, and maybe it is. “It’s not just about your knee,” you say finally, and it feels like a confession, like something you’ve been holding onto for too long. “It’s about everything else”

Leah’s eyes widen, just for a moment, and you see something flicker across her face—surprise, maybe, or relief, or something else entirely. She doesn’t say anything right away, but she steps even closer, close enough that you can smell the faint trace of her sweat mixed with the scent of her shampoo, something clean and floral, and it hits you like a wave, overwhelming in its simplicity. You feel the pull again, stronger now, undeniable.

“You think I don’t know that?” she says, and her voice is soft, but there’s an edge to it, a sharpness that cuts through the haze in your mind. “You think I don’t feel it too?”

The words hang between you, suspended in the air, and for a moment, everything else fades away—the gym, the team, the world outside this room. It’s just you and her, and the weight of everything you haven’t said, everything you’ve been too scared to admit.

Leah reaches out, her fingers brushing against your arm, and the contact sends a jolt through you, a spark that ignites something deep inside, something you’ve been trying to suppress for weeks, months. You’re not sure who moves first, but suddenly, the space between you disappears, and her lips are on yours, and it’s like everything snaps into focus all at once.

The kiss is rough, urgent, like it’s been building for too long and now there’s no stopping it. Her hands are on your waist, pulling you closer, and you can feel the heat of her body against yours, the way her breath mingles with yours in the small, stolen space between kisses. It’s messy, frantic, like neither of you can get enough, like you’ve been starving for this and now you’re finally letting yourself have it.

You don’t think about the consequences, about what happens when this moment ends. You don’t think about the power imbalance, the lines you’re crossing, the mess you’re making. All you can think about is the way she feels against you, the way her fingers dig into your skin like she’s afraid you’ll disappear if she lets go.