I have a new right hip. It’s a big improvement over the old one. It means I can take long walks again with my beloved labradoodle, Tinker. It means I can take to the dance floor.

And like anyone who has gotten a new joint or is recovering from a serious injury of any sort, my doctor ordered physical therapy. That’s why I am working with a wonderful physical therapist named John.

We meet twice a week, sometimes three times. John puts me through my paces. Specifically, he is helping me strengthen my hip socket muscles. He has me doing clam shells, so many clamshells. He has me doing one-legged bridges and squats.

And here’s my favorite, called the monster walk. This exercise involves putting a band above my knees and taking diagonal steps forward and backward. The name is apt!

John tells me the pain I am working against is important, that I won’t heal without it. At my last session, as I was straining through a set of abductor slides, John looked me squarely in the eye and said, “You know,........

© Psychology Today