Inquisitive.me

“But my doctor said I can.”

That sentence hits differently when you’re standing in a physio room.

Because technically?

He’s right.

But also… not really.

And that’s exactly where things get messy.

In healthcare, we often use time as an indicator for success. And to be fair—sometimes that makes perfect sense.

Tissues heal at different speeds.

Muscles? Roughly 2–3 weeks.
Bones? More like 6–8 weeks.
Tendons? Often times much longer.

That’s physiology. You can’t argue with that.

This is the time your body needs to heal and return to basic function. And no matter how good your therapist is, you can’t speed that up.

But you can slow it down.

So yes—time matters.

But here’s the problem:

Time doesn’t tell you what you can actually do.

Doctors often use healing timelines as milestones.

“After X weeks, you can return to running.”
“After X weeks, full range of motion is allowed.”
“After X weeks, you can go back to work.”

And medically, that’s correct.

But in physio, I use a different indicator:

Function.

Just because you’re allowed to do something…
doesn’t mean you’re actually capable of doing it.

Your doctor tells you what is medically safe.

I help you get there.

Because your body adapts to what it does regularly.

If you don’t challenge it with the movements you need in real life—it won’t magically be ready for them.

I had a patient recently where this exact situation came up.

I explained all of this. He listened, nodded… and then dropped the ultimate argument:

“But my doctor said…”

And what did I do?

I argued.

Which, in hindsight, was pretty stupid.

Because now I wasn’t helping anymore—I was just trying to be right. And from his perspective, it probably sounded like I was saying his doctor didn’t know what they were doing.

That wasn’t my intention.

But intention doesn’t matter if communication fails.

That day didn’t sit right with me. So I did what I usually tell my patients to do:

I stepped back and reflected.

Doctors have a huge amount of trust. And rightly so. They’ve studied for years. From a patient’s perspective, it makes total sense to rely on that.

But what most people don’t realize is this:

Diagnosing and clearing someone medically is not the same as guiding them back to full function.

Rehab isn’t just about tissue.

It’s about the human.

The fears.
The frustration.
The “Am I doing enough?”
The “What if I make it worse?”

Some people become overly cautious.
Others ignore everything and push through pain.
Some lose motivation halfway through.

Rehab lives in that messy middle.

And that’s where we work.

So instead of arguing, I needed something better.

Something objective.
Something we can both see.
Something that doesn’t rely on opinions.

Because it’s hard to argue with numbers.

Before I go into that, I had to fix something else first—my own mindset.

When I hear “But my doctor said…”, I now remind myself:

“I’m not here to be right—I’m here to help.”

That one sentence changed everything.

Because spoiler: the doctor is right.
And so am I.

We’re just talking about different things.

Let me show you what I mean.

Take a knee patient.

There are a few simple milestones I use before moving forward. Nothing fancy. No magic. Just clear, testable markers.

First: full knee extension—and not just lying on a table, but during movement.

Can you keep your knee fully extended while walking?
During calf raises?
While you raise your leg?

Because if not, people often walk with a slight bend. That increases stress, keeps irritation going, and reduces stability.

So we fix that first.

Next milestone: strength symmetry.

This is where most people overestimate themselves.

“My knee feels fine.”
“Yeah, but is it as strong as the other side?”

We test it.

Single-leg calf raises.
Single-leg sit-to-stands.
Step-downs.

Same setup. Same rules. Both sides.

And here’s the important part:

We define clear stop criteria beforehand.

For example:

• If you lose full range of motion → we stop.
• If your hips start rotating or hiking → we stop.
• If your knee collapses inward → we stop.
• If you start using momentum → we stop.

No guessing. No “one more rep for ego.”

Just clean reps.

And suddenly, something interesting happens.

The patient sees it.

Not my opinion.
Not the doctor’s opinion.

Reality.

If the injured leg is far behind, there’s work to do. Simple as that.

From there, everything becomes easier.

If a movement isn’t clean—we scale it down.
If control is missing—we train it.
If strength is lacking—we build it.

Step by step.

And the best part?

There’s no argument anymore.

Because there’s nothing to argue about.

We’re not discussing beliefs.
We’re looking at facts.

The patient knows exactly where they stand.
They know what needs to improve.
And most importantly—they know how to get there.

That’s when rehab really starts working.

Not because I convinced them.

But because they can see it themselves.

🧪 Let’s Experiment

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Feeling ready is not the same as being ready.

Your body doesn’t care what you think it can do—it shows you what it can do.

🎯 Try This:

Pick a test for your injured vs. healthy side
(these work great for the lower extremity—for upper limbs, you’ll need different tests):

• Single-leg calf raises
• Single-Leg-Sit-to-stands
• Step-downs

Set clear rules before you start:

• Full range of motion
• No compensation
• No momentum

Count only clean reps on both sides.

Now compare.

If there’s a noticeable gap → that’s your next training goal.

No guessing. No debating.

🧠 Final Thought:

Your body doesn’t lie. You just have to be willing to listen.

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Keep it simple, stay curious, and keep learning—you’ve got this.

Take care,

Carina 🦊