Living History

Never saw it coming. The next thing I knew I was falling through the hot Jersey Shore air, landing along the roadside, feeling grit grind into my shoulder, forearm and calf. At 19, I popped right back up in time to see a car barrel down the road to Newark or some other God-forsaken grime town in New Jersey. The car behind the accident stopped to tell me I had been clipped by a car. I ordered them to go get the plate. I dusted myself off, examined the bike’s damage. It was a friend’s and I had borrowed it during the Fourth of July weekend.  That was 1973. 

Nothing ever came of this accident, but that was probably the first time I injured my right shoulder. I suspect my rotator cuff tear is a result of lifetime of injuries and use, aggravated last year when my job changed to the backroom. Heavy lifting overhead, and climbing ladders required.

Back in graduate school, 1984, I was playing pick-up soccer one September afternoon. I got clocked by some girl. Well, I think it was a girl. Felt like a truck when I was flat out on my belly arms splayed out mainly to keep my face out of the turf. Didn’t work. And a few days later my shoulder didn’t work. School doctor put me in a sling. Bursitis, he said. When it froze up a few days later, I had my first physical therapy experience. I faithfully did the exercises. Arm seemed fixed.

Smashed into a car eleven years ago while on my way to the pool. A passenger opened a car door on me. Boom. Right there in Kona, HI a few days before Iron Man.  I picked myself up, got no apologies from the foreign punk and went onto the pool after stopping by my hairstylist to get a few band aids. Figured I’d be sore for a few days so I might as well swim while I could.

And then last year my right shoulder just started hurting. Day and night. My sister Robin and my Dad were coming for a visit, so I figured a couple of weeks rest from work… didn’t improve it.  Outrigger canoeing with my sister didn’t help either.  When I returned to work I was using heat, ice, KT Tape, massage. Nothing stopped the ache.

I tried to get an MRI scheduled prior to my return to NY. Couldn’t make that happen, but I was able to see a Physical Therapist and she, in just a matter of a few days, got my range of motion back, eliminated the ache during the night and when I pulled myself up on ladders at work. A miracle.

Except doing the littlest things at the least expected times would shoot pain through my shoulder.  So when I returned to Hawaii, I scheduled an MRI. Finally, in April I was told I had the tear. A significant tear.  I remember the news. It was upsetting. I held back the tears as best I could as the doctor told me I should have surgery. Six weeks in a sling. Months of physical therapy. All I could think about was how would I ride my scooter with a sling on.  Later I wondered how I was going to wipe my butt. And a whole lot of other things began to cross my mind.