First of all, can I just say that being married to a Doctor of Physical Therapy definitely has its perks? For instance, when you’re just getting used to this new and wonderful world of pregnancy and trying not to toss your cookies every twenty minutes and suddenly this new pain starts radiating from your back down your leg every time you try to move and so you crip around like an 80-year-old until two days later you finally gripe to your husband about it, he gives you a simple exercise to do, and suddenly the pain is gone and you are sure that somewhere after that DPT in his name is “Miracle Worker” in fine print.

Or when you’re seven months pregnant and you wake up in the middle of the night screaming because of a dreadful Charlie horse in your calf that has somehow caused a tennis ball sized lump behind your leg and your DPT husband bolts upright in bed next to you and understands enough of your garbled screaming to shout, “Which leg?!? Which leg!?!” and then miraculously starts this massage business that brings a peace you didn’t know could come after such intense pain.

Or how about when you’re in the hospital in labor for the second full day, and you’ve finally gotten an epidural, and the nurses are moving you into different positions because your legs have suddenly turned to pieces of concrete that refuse to respond to the most basic commands, and something just doesn’t feel right but you have no idea what until the DPT starts expertly adjusting pillows, blankets, bed attachments, etc. and suddenly all is as right with your world as it can be at that particular moment; and the nurses look at him in awe and ask if he’s a nurse (because, no offense to MDs, but a physician couldn’t do that like that and make it better), and he smiles and says, “I’m a physical therapist.” and they just nod in understanding and give the woman with concrete legs lying in the bed a look of envy because she’s married to a DPT.

Now, being married to a DPT can have its drawbacks, too. For instance, physical therapists seem to think that every ache and pain can be fixed by just moving more. The other day we were having a conversation about some form of discomfort I was experiencing, and Read very kindly told me he could show me an exercise that would help with that. I shook my head and told him I didn’t want an exercise and asked if maybe he could just be a chiropractor for a few minutes instead of a DPT and pop and crack me back into perfection without me having to “do” anything. He gave me a patient look that said, “Just wait. You’ll be begging me for help eventually.”

Until that day when I beg him for another exercise to fix my malady or ask him to educate me in a certain area of pain science that I’m trying to wrap my head around, I will just continue to bask in the awe of being married to a doctor of physical therapy.