In love with your child’s physiotherapist: ‘I was terrified of this adventure’

Sheryl (34) stuck with her son Tycho (7)’s physiotherapist.

“Look, if you look at him from behind, you can see his legs are crooked above his feet.” Physiotherapist Patrick stood just a little too close to me. His arm against mine shuddered all over my body. Startled, I stepped aside. What if he felt this?

physio

Tycho had been walking for his freshman year, but had taught himself it the wrong way. Instead of rolling his foot from heel to toe, he started each step on his toes and then put his foot flat on the floor. Like he was sneaking around all the time. No matter what I tried, I couldn’t stop him. Patrick was the third physio we visited, and actually I had already given up hope when Tycho finally saw the light with him. A breakthrough, but it would be a long process, Patrick said. And so we sat with him every Thursday afternoon, with new exercises for home every week.

Wrists

Patrick always ended the sessions with five minutes of free play on the equipment in his room. There he started a personal chat with me after about six treatments. About what happened to Tycho, and that I was definitely busy being a single mom—something that was simply in Tycho’s file.

In retrospect, he was checking whether I was available, but I thought it was suspicious: was he afraid that something was going on in our home situation? The physiotherapy practice was linked to the GP; would there be concerns? Nonsense, of course, because our lives ran smoothly, but during the breakup with Tycho’s father I had been at the office a few times with bruises. My ex had been out of our lives for years, but I always remained a little suspicious, the threat of danger still fresh in my system.

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In the wild

Tycho and I were at a food festival when we bumped into Patrick ‘in the wild’. He was there with a friend and before I knew it Tycho was in his arms. I felt a blush rise as Patrick greeted me and I could see by his look that I didn’t leave him unmoved either. He looked very different without a company polo shirt. Tougher, in a leather jacket with his hair messy. We spent the rest of the afternoon together.

“He suddenly looked a lot tougher in the wild.”

“Give me your number and I’ll text you today’s pictures,” Patrick said. “Smooth move,” I winked—overjoyed he’d asked and terrified of this adventure at the same time. I had been single for years, and what if this man also turned out to be untrustworthy? But everything in me called out the opposite. And it wasn’t like I had a choice: my heart had already decided.

Private Therapy

It is, of course, not the intention for a pediatric physiotherapist to play chess with a patient’s mother. So we stopped the treatments after a few weeks of dating. Tycho has been getting his treatments at home ever since. He considers his private therapy to be the most normal thing in the world. ‘First we always went to visit Patrick, now he sometimes stays with us’, he tells anyone who wants to hear it. Logically, if Tycho has played with a friend a few times, he will also visit us afterwards.

My relationship with Patrick has never caused any awkward situations. Physical therapy was so disconnected from the rest of our lives that it doesn’t feel any different than if I had bumped into it elsewhere. However, there is one advantage: I have removed the extra physiotherapy from my health insurance. My new love keeps me flexible at home.”

This article can be found in Kek Mama 02-2022.

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