My second round of physical therapy had the same effect as the first earlier this year: it made me worse instead of better. So I told them I wasn't coming back.
Tonight I'm discouraged but resigned. There is nothing on the horizon that will mitigate this peculiar kind of pain and evidently it will continue to dictate my level of activity, maybe for the rest of my life.
At times like this, I have to actively recite God's goodness, His blessings, and all the things I am capable of doing even when I can hardly move. Only this purposeful remembering separates me from real depression.
He is, and will ever be, faithful...