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.
