JUST 36 HOURS earlier, my
finger had gone through
surgery to install three screws and clean up damage from a collision with a basketball.

That's why, on a recent Friday morning, I was in a physical therapy office telling my troubles to a pleasant, professional and pretty occupational therapist named Grace Weber.

Still unsteady from the whole surgical swirl, trying to take in all the neat machines and gizmos in the gym-like facility operated by Fredericksburg Orthopedic Associates, I was a stranger in a strange land.

But as Weber slowly and reassuringly talked me through the exercises and treatments I'd get, I slowly began to relax.

At least I did until she gently took my hand and started peeling away the surgeon's bandage.

"We'll get this off, see how it looks and try to get this finger moving a little," she said in the most reassuring of tones.

"Sure," I croaked, failing to feign either bravery or composure. "No, um, problem."

Until that point, I'd been so freaked about the finger surgery that I hadn't tried to move it, much less take off the bandages.

But Weber did. And from then on, she's helped me back on a slow, steady climb toward normalcy.

My visits there have offered an interesting look at the physical therapy my doctor and others believe in.

It ranges from simple, repetitive body movements to high-tech treatments that strengthen the body and soothe the soul.

The first thing I noticed: Most of the other patients had problems much more serious than mine.

Sure, my sluggish finger makes it hard to button shirt collars or shoot marbles.

But others coming to this office on Fredericksburg's Fall Hill Avenue were struggling to regain use of legs, arms, backs and other body parts needed to get about.

Not that all my exercises were what I'd call easy.

You see, this finger I'd dinged had decided its new natural state would be lazy and stiff.

That's where Weber came in.