Come on in, the weather is beautiful, so the fire is low, perfect for cooking, and the skins are pulled back to let in all that wonderful fall air. I got some left over dry ribs for the folks that don't feel like cooking.
So here's the thing. In case I've never explained this, I've got an unbelievably high pain tolerance. I don't know something is hurt until it stops working. Like my shoulder. Which is completely jacked. I'm pretty sure I've done something inhumanly nasty to it. It's been limited in motion for most of the past year. It doesn't look even, the muscles in my shoulder don't look right. Overall it's just a bad situation. It started with some football. I was helping the kids with blocking, picking up blitzes, using my body as the blocking dummy. Someone caught my shoulder in a bad way, and it felt funny. But that didn't stop me. Cuz I'm still that tough 18 year old that can heal from anything in an instant and am relatively indestructible.
So I keep using it normally, it gets hit a bit more, I do push ups with the guys, and then later that night, I go play dodgeball. Throwing the ball full tilt at people. With the right arm that has the fucked up shoulder.
And I continue like this. Because it doesn't really hurt. And I can still use it. Until one night after dodgeball my arm just wouldn't lift. Couldn't go up at all.
So I've done some physio, and tried not to use that arm. I'm quite competent with my left hand anyways, being ambiconfused. And it's more than a year later and while it isn't fully mobile yet, it's still way better. It moves almost in a full circle and I can use it to lift stuff again without any issues. So I'm on the long road to recovery for my joint issue.
Until this last Friday. Playing dodgeball. See I tend not to throw. I'm quite good at catching, and dodging, and will sacrifice myself so someone can get somebody else out, and so we can keep the balls on our side, so y'know, I'm still useful. but with increased mobility and my own mistaken belief that I am somehow still 18, I get a guy right near me on the line, and a ball in hand and I just whip it at him.
And feel like something inside my shoulder suddenly burst into flames. Then the arm went numb. And I couldn't lift it for the rest of the game. Sure some other guy on the team went all wussy and quit when his elbow started to hurt a bit, but me, I kept playing. And kept making catches. And was still useful. And it actually hurt. I know it's a bad bad thing when I can actually feel the pain, and it makes me nauseous.
And now, every single muscle group that makes up my rotator cuff is locked up and my arm barely moves again.
I'm a fucking idiot.
2 comments:
This is why I don't go into moshpits anymore. The last real pit I went into was nothing like Slayer in '88, but it was pretty intense nonetheless. I felt a little beat up sure, but none the worse for wear.
Then I woke up the next morning. It was all I could do to lift the phone to call in with a severe case of "What's the fucking use?"
Ah, to be 18 again.
The fun part for me now is watching my kid jump into those same moshpits and come out sweaty, tired, and maybe a little bruised up, but wearing a shit-eating grin all the same.
I know your pain.
I went skiing last year. New skis. (My old ones were from 1988, so you can imagine how much the tech has changed since then.) I flew like the wind.
At one point in the morning, I caught an edge and almost fell - but I caught myself. 'Whew,' says I, 'that could've been bad.'
Three hours later, I catch another edge - and this time, I'm going too fast and there's no stopping the fall. A couple thousand dollars in physio bills later, I'm just starting to be able to run again, but I'm nowhere near healed.
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