Brief update on the shoulder business

I’ve tried to be good & only mention my recuperating shoulder in passing, but before I post another gem from my past (not a poem this time – an essay) I decided to slip this in here. I started my physical therapy last week. I’ve had three sessions now. Last week I learned from my therapist that what I had is a SLAP tear (an injury to the Glenoid labrum, whatever that is). Apparently this type of injury has to be corrected with (arthroscopic) surgery most of the time. So I guess this was all necessary – which is good since I already had the surgery! I’m not supposed to lift my arm over my head for the first six weeks (so the little biodegradable pin they put in doesn’t come loose – eww!). Four down, two to go. And you know, not looking forward to physicial therapy after that sixth week. Ouch! Last night I had a substitute therapist & I thought she would kill me. Really! She looked nice & we had a lovely conversation about books on tape, and all the while I was thinking can’t she tell I’m dying here? I’ve been told by many kind & thoughtful friends that it’s only going to get worse.

 

I’ve never been a “no pain no gain” kind of gal, but I have a goal here & I plan to slog through until I reach it. I’ve already mentioned this goal to you guys and to my boss’s wife. I told my therapist that was my goal & he was not the least bit surprised or dismayed. He said that he’d had another client with the same goal. Apparently she had multinational underarms (American on one side & European on the other). So, although I’ll continue to keep the whining at a minimum, I will probably be posting on my progress to my goal. Maybe I should have one of those counters on my blog – maybe a butterfly on a ruler that moves closer to the goal each week…

Class, Thy Name is Bug

Yesterday my boss’s wife called & as usual I answered his phone. I’ve never met her, but I really like her a lot. We dish about his foibles (of course, he can hear my end of the conversation so I dish gently). She asked about my surgery & had a horror story about a coworker who took six months to recover completely (thanks!). I told her that I would consider my recovery complete when I am able to raise my arm straight up in the air and shave under there. Yes, indeed, I told my boss’s wife that my goal is to shave under my arms.

Because I’m classy like that.