"C" is for Care

"C" is for Care.
Yesterday, I went to my physical therapy appointment.  (The short version of why I need PT is as follows:  I was born with profound Congenital Hip Dysplasia, left side only, a IV on the Crowe scale.  Surgeries in childhood got me into adulthood.  Hip deteriorated.  I received total hip replacement in 2008.  Because of the deformities present in my pelvis and femur on the left side, I struggle daily with issues relating to this, even after the replacement.)  The place where I go for PT is affiliated with a hospital where I have experienced some of the worst care I could imagine.  The nightmare that place put me through for years is not something I am willing to post about here this evening, so let's just say their services suck.  When I started PT at their rehab services, I was a bit apprehensive. 
The past few days, I have been experiencing some severe pain that was not the normal chronic aches I have around my hip joint.  It was so bad, I almost cancelled my PT appointment, because I did not want to ride the recumbent cycle, or work my legs on the shuttle machine, or hobble my ankles with what feels like giant pieces of balloon and walk sideways across the room while holding ski poles, all activities I actually enjoy on my better days, but did not look forward to doing while in this intense pain.  A small part of me thought that perhaps my physical therapist would be able to give me some pointers on how to relieve my pain, but the rest of me figured I would not be believed, and would be treated poorly, as the majority of the healthcare professionals at this healthcare establishment have treated me for the past two decades.
I went in, and I am so glad I did.  My therapist, a young man who looks so much like Kevin Bacon that I cannot ever remember his real name, listened to me, knew right away what was causing the pain I was experiencing (my SI joint), and set about trying to help ease my pain.  By the end of the visit, my pain was noticeably diminished, and I had a couple of stretches to do at home to help out, including an interesting thing where I stand up facing a wall, flush against it, place a pillow between my left leg and the wall, and stretch the correct muscles by trying to lift my left knee, a move that reminded me of trying to knee someone in the groin. 
As I left PT, I looked down at the instructions for the new stretches that my therapist had written on stationery with the name of the healthcare place I have come to loathe on it, and for the first time, I felt like the words "...legacy of care" were not the biggest load of crap I had ever seen.  I'm not sure if physical therapists take an oath to care, but yesterday, this one cared.  He could teach a lot to some doctors I know.